Chapter 1 — Moonlit Shadows

Anjali Oberoi

The scent of rain lingered in the air, faint and elusive, as though the forest itself held its breath. Anjali stood at the threshold of her cabin, her amber eyes scanning the dense woodland where shadows danced like restless phantoms. The moon hung low, its light fractured by thin clouds, casting an uneven glow that spilled across the mist-shrouded trees. She tugged her woolen sweater tighter around her as the chill of early evening nipped at her skin, the sensation grounding her in the present moment. Yet, the stillness of the forest pressed against her thoughts, heavy with unspoken tension.

Her sanctuary—a weathered wooden cabin tucked deep into the folds of the forest—seemed to merge with the wilderness, as though it had been swallowed by the trees. For two months now, it had been her refuge. A place to escape the world and the burning betrayal that lingered like silver roots beneath her skin. The memory of her family’s treachery still cut deep, their faces sharp in her mind, yet blurred by the painful haze of disbelief.

Why had they done it?

Her fingers tightened briefly around the doorknob before she stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her. The cabin’s dim interior wrapped her in its familiar austerity—scarred wooden floors, mismatched furniture, and a fireplace licking softly at the corners of darkness. A steaming mug of tea sat on the worn table, waiting. She lowered herself into the chair by the window, her gaze drawn to the Moonlit Pendant resting against her chest. Cool and deceptively ordinary to the touch, its faint glow quickened as her fingers brushed the crescent moon etched into the silver.

The opal at its center shimmered faintly, its light more suggestion than certainty.

How many nights had she sat here, teetering between denial and dread? Ignoring the whispers of destiny felt as futile as trying to detangle her thoughts. The dreams—visions bathed in moonlight—always found her, pulling her deeper into a world she wasn’t sure she wanted to reclaim.

Tonight would be no exception.

The tea cooled in her hands as the hours slipped by, the forest outside her window melting into darkness. The nocturnal symphony of the woods—distant howls, the rustle of unseen creatures—grew louder, more insistent. Her amber eyes fluttered closed as the familiar ache of exhaustion crept over her, thoughts unraveling like threads slipping through her fingers. Sleep came slowly, uneasy and unbidden.

It began with a pull, as it always did.

She stood in the heart of a silvered forest, the air shimmering like starlight caught in a ripple of water. The trees here were impossibly tall, their branches reaching skyward as if cradling the full moon that hung low and vast in the sky. Its light bathed everything in a silvery glow, so radiant it felt alive. Beneath her feet, the moss pulsed faintly with bioluminescent light, soft and cool under her bare toes. The air carried a faint hum, like the distant resonance of a tuning fork.

Anjali’s breath hitched. She wasn’t alone.

“Anjali,” a voice called, soft yet resonant, like the echo of a bell in a cathedral.

She turned. Selene stood before her, luminous and otherworldly. The moon goddess’s messenger had a presence that defied description: silver eyes steady and infinite, hair that flowed like liquid moonlight, and a gown that sparkled as though the night sky had been stitched into its fabric. The air around her shimmered faintly, as though reality bent in her wake.

“You cannot linger in the shadows forever,” Selene said, her voice both warm and commanding. “The shadows are converging. You’ve felt their weight.”

Anjali tensed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I didn’t ask for this,” she said, her voice steady but edged with defiance. “Whatever your goddess wants from me, I’m not the one to give it.”

Selene tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable yet touched with the faintest glimmer of empathy. “Do you truly believe that running will sever the bond? Blood and destiny are intertwined, Anjali. You cannot outrun the moon any more than you can outrun your own heartbeat.”

The forest seemed to hush, the shimmering air thickening as though even the world around them awaited her reply.

“I don’t know who I am anymore,” Anjali admitted, the words escaping her like a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her voice faltered, tinged with pain. “I don’t feel her—my wolf. It’s like she’s… gone.”

Selene stepped closer, her presence both unnerving and oddly comforting. “Your wolf is not gone. She is waiting. She is watching. She is you, Anjali. But to find her again, you must face what you fear most. You must stop running from yourself.”

Anjali opened her mouth to protest, but a flicker of uncertainty stilled her tongue. What if Selene was right? What if the disconnection she feared most was of her own making?

The scene around her shifted with disorienting suddenness. She was no longer in the towering forest but standing in a grove bathed in radiant moonlight. The air here was heavier, thrumming with unseen energy. Bioluminescent flowers bloomed in ripples of color, their petals flickering like tiny, living lanterns. The scent of jasmine and earth hung thick in the air, and the ground beneath her feet felt warm, alive.

At the grove’s center stood an ancient stone altar, half-buried beneath moss and earth. Its surface was etched with intricate glyphs that pulsed in rhythm with the faint glow of the Moonlit Pendant. Anjali’s chest tightened as she stepped closer, the pendant warm against her skin, its light syncing with the glyphs in an unspoken harmony.

Recognition flooded her, though she couldn’t explain why. It was as though this place—this altar—had been waiting for her.

“Find the altar,” Selene’s voice echoed, though the goddess was nowhere to be seen. “Find the truth of who you are.”

Anjali reached out, her fingers brushing the cool, moss-covered surface of the altar. The moment her skin made contact, the vision shattered like glass, fragments of the grove scattering into darkness.

She woke with a start, her breathing ragged, the pendant pressed hot against her chest. The cabin was dark save for the faint glow of embers in the fireplace, yet the air felt charged, alive with the same hum she’d felt in the grove.

Rising unsteadily, she crossed the room to the small mirror hanging by the door. Her amber eyes met her reflection, wide and luminous. She leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass.

For a moment—a fleeting, heart-stopping moment—her reflection moved before she did.

Her hand shot to the pendant, gripping it tightly as her heart pounded in her ears.

The wolf.

The shadows were converging. And whether she was ready or not, the moon was calling her home.