Await The Moon

Clara was still trembling, clutching the counter for support. Moonsly's abrupt exit had left a profound disturbance, like a stone dropped into a calm pool. He believed he already paid. The cryptic phrase echoed in her mind, pulling her attention back to the high shelf where 'Whispers of the Lycan' had sat.

She instinctively reached for the space it occupied. Her fingers brushed against the rough wood, but instead of dust, she felt something hard and cold. She pulled her hand back and stared. Tucked neatly into the space was a single coin.

It wasn't gold or copper, but silver, dull and strangely cold, no matter how long she held it. It was stamped with a crudely drawn symbol: a crescent moon, almost full, cradling a single, stylized wolf's head. It was ancient and beautiful, but what chilled her were the tiny, almost invisible scratch marks marring the smooth surface, as if someone had desperately tried to remove the symbol.

This was his payment.

A shiver of genuine fear mixed with her confusion. She ran to the cash register. The ledger showed no purchase, no cash paid, only the time: 12:47 AM. She picked up the discarded note Moonsly had written, the one with his name. The paper was thicker than normal, and when she turned it over, she saw the same faint impression-a shadow of the crescent moon and wolf's head, transferred from the coin.

A desperate need for answers overwhelmed her fear. She knew everything about the folklore section. She ran back, pulling down the thickest, oldest tome she owned, 'A Compendium of the Cursed'-the forbidden book.

Flipping through the brittle pages, her eyes widened at an illustration: a man, impossibly beautiful, marked with the identical Silver Mark on his hand. The accompanying text confirmed her rising dread: it was the tribal mark of the Lunar Clan, a pack of ancient, powerful Lycans.