Chapter 2 — The Festival of the Full Moon

Celeste

The night pulsed with life, a heartbeat of sound and motion reverberating through the village square. Lanterns of stained glass—crimson, sapphire, emerald—hung from posts and doorways, their flickering light scattering fractured rainbows across the muddy paths. The air thrummed with overlapping melodies: the laughter of children darting between the legs of adults, the low hum of conversations spoken just loud enough to carry, and the haunting strains of stringed instruments weaving a melody both celebratory and mournful. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf’s howl unfurled into the night, a thread of tension tying the vibrant scene to the restless shadows beyond.

I lingered on the outskirts of the gathering, the edge of the crowd a boundary more comfortable than its center. My arms were crossed tightly over my chest, my fingers gripping the rough edge of the plain lantern Sasha had handed me earlier. Its amber-hued panels barely caught the light, a stark contrast to the intricate designs dancing across the other lanterns. The villagers carried theirs with reverence, the stained glass panels reflecting vibrant colors onto their hands and faces like fragments of protective spells. Mine felt more like an afterthought, its simplicity mirroring my status among them: tolerated at best, wholly unwelcome at worst.

“Tradition,” Sasha had said gently when she pressed the lantern into my hands. “This festival isn’t just about music or dancing. It’s a way for us to show the forest—and the moon—that we stand together. That we’re stronger when we’re united.”

I glanced at the villagers swaying in time to the music, their movements precise and practiced, like steps performed a hundred times before. And yet, beneath the surface of their celebration, something felt… brittle. The occasional sharp glance in my direction, the hushed words exchanged behind cupped hands, told me all I needed to know about their unity. It didn’t include me.

The pendant beneath my jacket pulsed faintly, its warmth in counterpoint to the cool night air. It had been quiet earlier, but now, as I stood on the periphery of the festival, its steady thrum seemed to grow stronger, syncing with the hypnotic rhythm of the music. I brushed my fingers over it through the fabric, as though I could calm it into stillness. It didn’t work.

I let my gaze wander to the stone circle at the heart of the square. Even under the lanterns’ glow, the towering monoliths cast long, jagged shadows that seemed to stretch toward me, alive with the same hum I’d felt since entering the village. The runes etched into their surfaces were barely visible from here, but something about them held my focus, like a voice just out of earshot whispering for me to listen. The pendant grew warmer.

A flicker of movement broke my stare, and I turned to find Sasha approaching, her auburn curls catching the shifting light of the lanterns. She held her own lantern loosely by her side, its emerald panels casting soft, leafy patterns across her freckled skin. Her smile was kind, though tinged with concern.

“Not planning to join the dance?” she asked, her tone light but probing.

I shook my head, nodding toward the villagers. “I don’t think I’d be invited.”

Sasha tilted her head, her expression softening. “The festival isn’t about invitations,” she said. “It’s about showing up. Being present. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

I wanted to believe her, but the weight of the villagers’ stares argued otherwise. The lantern in my hand felt heavier, its light dim and unimpressive compared to the vibrant glow around us. My pendant pulsed again, sharper this time, and I winced.

Before I could respond, the music faltered, the melody breaking apart like glass. A hush fell over the crowd, and heads turned toward the shadows at the edge of the square. The space seemed to hold its breath as a figure stepped into the light.

Leon.

The word wasn’t spoken, but I could feel it ripple through the villagers like an unspoken prayer—or a warning. Dressed simply in dark trousers and a linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he moved with a natural ease that seemed to command the attention of everyone present. His coat, worn and weathered, hung open, revealing the raw strength in his frame. But it wasn’t his clothing or build that drew the stares. It was his presence, magnetic and unyielding, as though he were carved from the same stone as the circle standing behind him.

The villagers shifted subtly, an almost imperceptible bow in their postures as Leon strode into their midst. Some lowered their lanterns, the stained glass casting fractured shadows across their faces. Others stilled entirely, their gazes fixed on him with a mixture of reverence and unease. It was clear: this wasn’t just a man stepping into the square. This was their leader.

My breath caught as his amber eyes swept across the crowd, sharp and calculating, before locking onto mine. For a moment, the world narrowed, and all I could feel was the pendant flaring hot against my chest. I clutched at it instinctively, the metal searing through the layers of fabric as if it were alive. Leon’s gaze flicked to my hand, his jaw tightening. When his eyes returned to mine, there was something unreadable in them—something that made my pulse race.

“Celeste,” Sasha murmured, her voice low but urgent. “You don’t have to—”

But I was already moving, pulled forward by a force I couldn’t name. The villagers parted reluctantly as I approached the stone circle, their murmurs rising like the hum of insects. Leon didn’t move, his stance rigid, but as I drew closer, I caught the subtle shift of his pack behind him—a group of men and women who stood at a careful distance, their postures protective. They watched me with the same wariness as the villagers, but there was something sharper in their eyes. Something feral.

I stopped just short of the circle’s edge, the stone at my feet cold and unyielding. “You’re the one in charge, aren’t you?” I asked, surprised at the steadiness of my own voice.

Leon’s amber gaze swept over me, cool and assessing. “You’re Maeve’s daughter,” he said after a moment, his voice low and rough, like gravel caught beneath boots. “The one who doesn’t belong.”

The words hit harder than I expected, but I didn’t flinch. Instead, I met his gaze head-on, my fingers tightening around the lantern’s handle. “Maybe I don’t. But I’m here. And I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

His lips twitched—barely, but enough for me to catch it. Amusement, maybe, or annoyance. “The forest doesn’t care about what you came for,” he said. “And neither does the village. You’re an outsider. Outsiders don’t last here.”

My pendant flared again, hot and insistent against my skin, as though reacting to his words. I resisted the urge to step back. “What do you know about it?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

His gaze flicked to the faint glow beneath my jacket, his features hardening. “Enough to know it’s dangerous,” he said. “And enough to know you don’t understand what you’ve brought with you.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he turned abruptly, his coat sweeping behind him as he strode toward the forest’s edge. His pack followed without hesitation, their movements as fluid and synchronized as the dance I’d watched earlier. The crowd shifted uneasily in their wake, the tension that had briefly dissipated crashing back like a wave.

“Cryptic,” I muttered, the pendant’s heat finally beginning to fade.

Sasha appeared at my side, her expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t have confronted him,” she said quietly. “He carries more than just the weight of the pack.”

I exhaled slowly, my gaze lingering on the dark line of the forest where Leon had disappeared. “So do I,” I murmured.

The music resumed, but it felt subdued now, the energy of the festival dimmed. I stayed where I was, clutching the plain lantern as though it might anchor me. The stone circle loomed behind me, its runes just visible in the corner of my vision, and the pendant throbbed faintly against my collarbone. Whatever had drawn me here tonight wasn’t finished with me. Not yet.