The Cursed Alpha’s Mute Bride – Episode 16
The storm followed them out of Silver Moon territory and into the mountains. Thunder rolled above Black Fang Forest as Hunter led six warriors along a trail half drowned by rain. Every mile carried them closer to the forgotten temple and the power waiting beneath it.
Wren rode beside him on a gray mare, wrapped in a dry traveling cloak Mara had packed. The woman who entered Silver Moon as a hunted rogue seemed far away now. Fear remained, but it no longer decided the direction of her steps.
Hunter watched her whenever the trail narrowed. She sat straight despite the long ride and the burning mark beneath her collarbone. Pride warmed the mate bond, joined by a concern he made no effort to hide.
The vision refused to leave Wren. She saw vines swallowing broken pillars, a crescent carved into black stone, and the Moonstone Amulet blazing in a hooded figure’s hands. Each time lightning flashed, the forest briefly resembled the one inside her mind.
Questions traveled with her. Why had the relic called to her only after Gertrude’s spell began to weaken? What power had her father meant the amulet to protect? Most troubling of all, what had stirred beneath the altar when the thief placed it there?
Clay raised a fist near midday, bringing the column to a halt. Through the rain, a ridge climbed above the trees like the spine of some buried creature. “The Temple of the First Moon should be beyond that rise.”
Hunter dismounted and tested the air. The forest smelled of wet pine and ancient stone, but no fresh trail remained. “Leave the horses here with two guards. From this point forward, assume every path is warded.”
The warriors checked their weapons and tied strips of silver cloth around nearby branches to mark the return route. Wren slid from her saddle before Hunter could help, then accepted his hand only for the steep climb.
The air changed as they approached the ridge. Birdsong vanished, and the rain seemed reluctant to fall between the trees. Pale symbols appeared on exposed roots, glowing for an instant before fading beneath their boots. Even the wolves’ heightened senses became unreliable, with sounds arriving from the wrong direction and familiar scents dissolving into cold mineral air.
Clay crouched beside one. “Ancient boundary wards. They should have died with the priests who kept this place.” He glanced at Wren’s curse mark, now shining through the fabric at her shoulder. “Something has fed them new power.”
Wren felt the answer pulling from beyond the ridge. The Moonstone recognized her approach, its pulse slow and immense. She placed one hand against her chest and followed it upward.
The ruins appeared below them without warning. Half-collapsed pillars rose from a basin choked with vines, each carved with wolves bowing beneath different phases of the moon. At the center stood a massive stone gate sealed by overlapping silver sigils.
The Temple of the First Moon did not look abandoned. It looked asleep. Mist moved through its courtyards like breath, and the cracked dome above the sanctuary seemed to watch the travelers descend.
Wren took one step down the slope. The mate bond surged so violently that her knees buckled. Fire spread from the crescent beneath her collarbone and raced through every vein.
Hunter caught her before she struck the ground. “What is it?” He supported her without lifting her away, understanding that the answer lay ahead rather than behind.
She pointed to the gate and pressed a fist against her racing heart. Calling me, she signed. The silver sigils brightened in response.
Hunter’s expression darkened. “The temple is reacting to your blood.” He looked toward Clay. “No one touches a seal until we understand the price.”
A low rumble rolled through the basin. Dust streamed from the pillars, and stones trembled beneath their feet. The locked gates remained closed, but something moved in the shadows behind the ruined colonnade.
Clay drew his sword. The other warriors formed a protective ring around Wren. “We are not alone.”
Figures stepped from alcoves that had appeared empty. They resembled wolves standing on two legs, each twice Hunter’s height and carved from black stone. Silver runes burned where eyes should have been.
