Marked by the Moon Tyrant

By evening, the temperature dropped sharply. My breath puffed in the air as I trudged through underbrush thick with frost.

Ahead, a rocky incline rose sharply. I could climb it tonight or wait until morning.

But stopping meant cold.

Cold meant weakness.

Weakness meant capture.

I started climbing.

Halfway up, the hum under my skin sparked once more-stronger this time, but still not painful. A flick of warmth. A warning. A sense of... awareness.

I froze mid-step.

The forest behind me had gone unnaturally quiet.

No birds.

No wind.

No rustle of leaves.

Just the faint, distant echo of something moving... too large, too heavy to be human.

A predator.

I gripped the rock edge, heart thundering.

In my first life, I rarely encountered wild wolves-they avoided anyone carrying a scent tied to the Alpha King. But now, my scent was unclaimed. Ordinary.

And ordinary prey attracted attention.

Carefully, slowly, I pulled myself up the next ledge and pressed my body against the stone. My breath fogged the air.

The sound grew louder-soft pads on leaves, a low rumble of breath.

I closed my eyes.

Keep going, I whispered to myself.

Don't look. Don't run. Running invites the chase.

I climbed one more foothold. Another.

A sharp crack echoed below.

My blood froze.

The creature had stepped on a branch. Deliberate. Too close.

I clung to the rock, lungs burning.

Then-

A growl.

Deep. Warning. Near the base of the cliff.

I forced myself not to look. Not to scream. Not to slip.

The hum inside me flickered again-heat pooling low in my chest, bright and soft.

Not shifting.

Not awakening.

Just-fear sharpening my instincts.

The growl faded after a moment, replaced by the thump of retreating steps.

Only when silence returned did I let myself breathe.

I climbed the final stretch and pulled myself onto the plateau. My arms trembled so hard I nearly collapsed.

I lay there for a long time, staring at the sky turning purple with dusk.

"I won't die this time," I whispered to the fading sun. "Not by kings. Not by fate. Not by anything."

And the woods held their silence, as if listening.