Chapter 1 — Silhouettes in Moonlight

Ava

The Moonlit Glade shimmered like a vision pulled from a half-remembered dream, the full moon’s silver glow spilling across the clearing in soft, ethereal waves. Ava Harper stood at its heart, her chest rising and falling with anticipation so sharp it bordered on pain. Around her, the forest whispered in a language she could not decipher but felt in her bones, an eerie harmony of rustling leaves and lilting breezes that seemed to breathe with her. The air was cool and damp, carrying the rich, grounding scent of moss and the faint sweetness of night-blooming flowers. The world felt alive—watching, waiting.

She smoothed the hem of her emerald dress, the flowing fabric brushing against her boots with a barely audible swish. It was a departure from her usual practical attire, but tonight was different. Tonight, she wanted to be more than the Ava who hid her uncertainties behind quiet smiles and knit sweaters. She adjusted the wavy strands of auburn hair framing her face, her vivid green eyes scanning the glade for even the faintest movement. He would come. He had to.

The forest seemed to agree. The towering trees stood sentinel, their boughs swaying gently as if in silent encouragement, their shadows pooling and shifting across the moss like living things. The moonlight pierced the canopy in narrow beams, painting the ground in shimmering patterns that danced with an almost sentient rhythm. Ava crossed her arms, not against the chill but to steady the trembling that began to creep through her body. She thought of Rylen Blackwood—his stormy gray eyes, the quiet intensity that lingered in his every movement—and her heart quickened. Whatever doubts had plagued her over the years, she couldn’t ignore the pull, the invisible thread that had tied her to him for as long as she could remember.

Tonight was the night when hope would become certainty. Tonight, they would claim what had been written in the stars.

A faint breeze stirred the glade, and a sudden snap of a twig sent her pulse into overdrive. Her head whipped toward the sound, her breath catching as Rylen stepped into the clearing. His presence was magnetic, commanding, even under the pale glow of the moon. Dressed in dark jeans and his worn leather jacket, he looked as if he’d been carved from the shadows themselves, his raven-black hair slightly disheveled. Yet it was his eyes that held her captive—stormy, intense, and unreadable, as if they carried an entire world of burdens she couldn’t see.

“Rylen,” Ava whispered, her voice trembling with relief and longing. She didn’t realize she’d taken a step toward him until her boots shifted against the mossy ground. A surge of emotion swirled in the air between them, almost tangible, like a current pulling her forward.

But then, something changed.

Rylen didn’t move. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense as though bracing against an unseen force. When his eyes finally met hers, they weren’t filled with the warmth she had dreamed of, but with a guarded coldness that struck her like a blow. The easy rhythm of her breathing faltered. She opened her mouth to speak, to banish the growing dread, but his voice cut through the stillness first.

“Ava,” he said, his tone low and measured, the weight of his words pressing down like a stormcloud ready to break. “I came here tonight because…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as his gaze flicked away to the shifting shadows at the edge of the glade.

“Because you know what this is,” Ava interrupted, her voice soft but insistent. She stepped closer, the thread between them pulling taut, desperate to close the distance that seemed to grow with every second. “You feel it too, don’t you? We’re meant to—”

“No.” The word came sharp and final, slicing through her hopes. Rylen turned back to her, his eyes flashing with an unnameable emotion—pain, regret, anger—before his expression hardened into something unyielding. “Whatever you think this is, it can’t happen. I can’t… I won’t.”

The words struck her like a physical blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. Ava froze, her mind scrambling to make sense of what she was hearing. “What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Rylen, we’re fated. Everyone knows it. The forest knows it. You can’t just—”

“I can,” he interrupted, his tone harsher now, almost desperate. “And I am. This…” He gestured between them with a trembling hand, his composure cracking for just a moment. “This can’t happen. It doesn’t matter what the forest whispers or what anyone else believes. I won’t let it.”

Ava’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of his words, her chest tightening as though the air itself had turned against her. “Why?” she choked out, her voice raw and trembling. “Why are you doing this? Is it because of the prophecy? Because I don’t care—I don’t care about—”

“It’s not just about you,” Rylen snapped, the sharpness in his voice making her flinch. His hands clenched at his sides, his stormy eyes darting between her and the forest, as if searching for an anchor. “This is about the pack. It’s about keeping them safe. You don’t understand the consequences, Ava.”

“Then help me understand!” she pleaded, stepping closer, her hands trembling as they reached toward him. She could feel her heart breaking with every passing second, every word that widened the chasm between them. “Don’t push me away. Don’t do this.”

For a fleeting moment, his mask slipped. She saw the torment in his eyes, the war raging within him, and her heart ached with the knowledge that he cared—deeply, desperately—even as he turned away from her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the wind.

Ava’s legs gave out, and she sank to the ground, her hands clutching the fabric of her dress as sobs wracked her frame. The forest, once full of whispers that promised a bright future, now mourned with her, its breeze carrying a sorrowful melody that made the trees seem to bow in lament.

When she finally looked up, the clearing was empty. Rylen was gone, his retreating footsteps already swallowed by the shadows. Ava pressed her trembling hands to her face, trying in vain to contain the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

At the edge of the glade, hidden among the shadows, a lone figure watched. Killian’s dark eyes glinted with satisfaction, his sly smile curving with quiet triumph. He lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on Ava’s crumpled form before he slipped back into the forest, his plans already beginning to take shape.

Ava staggered to her feet, her vision blurred by tears, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The forest’s whispers grew louder, almost urging her to move, to flee. She didn’t know where she was going; she only knew she couldn’t stay—not in this place that now felt like a burial ground for her dreams. With trembling steps, she plunged into the forest, her sobs swallowed by the night. The moonlight, once a beacon of hope, now seemed cold and distant, a cruel reminder of everything she had lost.