How do you fight the Moon?
The King has fallen to a God.
The world is gathering, surrounding the Northern hemisphere on all side, crushing, strangling the land in a tight noose.
All they demand is Charlie's head. The female Alpha born from two alp...
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The funeral fire is no more; the wind dusts up the cold ashes of my Uncle Grey, Bessa, and Borson. I've never met this type of grief before. It caves in my chest and hollows out my heart. Odin's fingers entwine with mine tightly as his grief drips off his cheeks. My father has my mother's hand in his, and it's the first time I see my father take Aunt Meela's hand... Her mate mark has started to fade.
The Moon will bleed for this.
The forests burn.
. . . everything burns.
I should have controlled myself better but could not until Odin touched my shoulder—an anchor. Only then did the winds die, and the rain started when I realized what I had done.
Within the rage, I lost myself, and now the world is parched and barren.
The days turn to weeks.
Odin and I neither need food nor sleep. We walk among the wolves, but we are not one of them anymore. Some wolves are having difficulty seeing us, claiming we seem smudged — my family can still see us fully.
Laughter that sounds like a distant rumble of thunder surrounds me. It comes from every direction. My shoulders are set for war as my desire for vengeance bites raw inside my cheek.
The Moon is air as she drifts forward into bone and skin.
"History has a way of repeating itself." The words are whispered in the back of my head. The Moon's mouth hasn't moved, but she's inside my mind.
"When I took my followers loyal to me away from my sister, she burned the forests behind us. Those loyal to her stayed, but most died of starvation. Now look at this and look at them. If they don't die in battle, they will all starve. The things you do because you feel you are righteous. Starve them all. Who cares about the suffering they will have to endure?" The Moon is all teeth when her words bite out. I will not draw back from them.
"They will call out for help, and you will not be able to do anything but watch them die. Have you ever seen starvation, Charlie? No, you haven't. The pups die first. You are not prepared for what is coming." The rhythm of her voice moves through the world, and her blue eyes shimmer.
"You grew up bloated and protected. You have never really suffered until now—last chance. Walk into the light and fall on silver. A trade for your life, for all of theirs. It's fair and balanced. You are one. They are many."
"No." The strongest word I know comes out hard. No.
"Your fallout is enjoyable. Now you will sleep in it." She gloats about the misery.
