Silverlit Scars

Beneath the Moon's Shadow

Mateo's POV

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the battlefield. But even its light couldn't dispel the darkness gnawing at the edges of my mind.

I walked through the wreckage, my boots crunching over the fallen bodies, my pack's warriors moving like shadows around me. The blood of enemies and comrades alike stained the earth beneath my feet. But none of it mattered. All I could think about was her.

Amelia.

She stood at the edge of the clearing, her back to me, her profile framed by the pale light of the moon. She hadn't turned to face me when the battle was over. She hadn't spoken, not since the moment the chaos subsided. Her face was set, her posture tense, like she was still holding something back.

I should have been proud. I should have been relieved that we'd survived—that she had survived. But the weight of everything felt like a storm inside me. The power I had seen in her—no, felt in her—had shifted something in the very air between us.

She was different. More than she had been before. And I didn't know if it was because of what we had faced together, or because of what she had become.

My heart twisted at the thought of the prophecy, the one that tied her to this ancient fate. She's not just a wolf. She's a weapon. Those words rang in my ears like a curse.

I had to stop this. I had to keep her safe. But how could I, when I didn't even understand the full extent of her power?

I moved closer to her, my steps cautious, careful not to make a sound. I didn't want to startle her, but I also didn't want to stand there in silence. She had been through so much, and the darkness in her eyes was a reflection of the storm she was fighting.

Amelia, still looking out into the distance, let out a soft breath. "You don't have to be here."

The words hit me harder than I expected.

"I'll always be here," I said, my voice low, the edge of steel in it. "No matter what happens."

She finally turned to look at me, her eyes searching mine, as though she was trying to read the truth beneath the surface. For a moment, the connection between us was undeniable—this bond that had grown between us. But then she stepped back, breaking it.

"I know what I felt," she said quietly, her voice strained. "But I still don't know what I am."

"You're Amelia," I answered, almost instinctively, but the weight of it didn't make me feel any better.

She shook her head. "No, Mateo. I'm more than that now." Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, with a fear that I hated seeing in her. "I saw it in the fight. The power inside me—it's different. Stronger. I don't know if I can control it. I don't know what will happen next."

I reached out, my hand hovering near her arm but not touching it. My heart raced in my chest, knowing that what she feared was more than just her own power. It was the prophecy, the weapon she was meant to become.

"You don't have to control it alone." I finally reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder, letting my touch convey what words couldn't. "I'll help you through this, every step of the way. I don't care what the prophecy says. I'll protect you."

Her eyes searched mine for sincerity, and I could see the vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior she tried to maintain.

"I don't know if I can trust anyone anymore," she whispered. "Especially myself."

I gritted my teeth, feeling the sting of her words. This wasn't just about the battle. It was about the betrayal that still haunted her, the broken trust that had cut so deep.