Chapter 10

The moon hangs full and radiant above Silvercrest, pale light spilling through the balcony doors of my chamber. I step outside, letting the cool night air brush my skin. Ever since my eyes opened this morning, the mark on my back has been on fire. I’ve tried to hold a soaked, cold cloth over it. I even had Brin brew me a broth for fever. But nothing has helped.

A sudden caw makes me flinch. Rowan’s raven perches on the railing, feathers slick and eyes burning like embers. It stares at me, head tilted. “Kah-kah,” it croaks, snapping its beak.

Something in my chest shifts—I understand what it is trying to tell me.

My eyes instinctively return to my diadem that lies on a pillow on my bed. Its sapphires gleam with a mystical glow. It recognises its true bearer—it urges me to shift.

Six years. Six years since I last tried. Six years since I thought Nyx was gone forever. Doubt claws up my throat. What if she isn’t ready? What if I’m not?

Warmth stirs deep in my bones, slow at first, then spreading like fire. My knees weaken.

‘Let me out,’ Nyx whispers, her voice no longer faint but fierce.

I swallow the lump in my throat. My hands tremble on the balcony rail, then I step back. I turn from the keep, forcing my feet to carry me outside.

The guards at the gate blink at me, startled, but no one moves to stop me. They can’t. Not on a full moon. No wolf may be caged tonight.

I walk uphill toward the ridge I know too well. Kade brought me here once, when we were young, when I thought our love was unbreakable. The memories hurt, but I push them aside.

Grass sways under the moonlight. I strip, folding my dress across a stone, and stand bare before the sky. The air is sharp in my lungs.

“Nyx,” I whisper, eyes closed. “Come forth.”

Pain answers me.

My scream tears the night as my bones snap, one after the other, reshaping. Muscles burn, stretch, tear, then knit again. Blood roars through my ears, hot and dizzying. My body has forgotten this rhythm, forgotten what it is to break and mend in the span of a heartbeat.

I drop to my knees, heaving, nails clawing dirt until they lengthen into talons. My consciousness stumbles back, retreating.

The world finally steadies.

I open my eyes, but they are not mine. The grass ahead glows golden, each blade edged in light. The scents strike sharp—earth, night, blood, life.

Nyx lifts her head, fur rippling, and the sound that bursts from her throat is not human. It is a howl, long and fierce, carrying into the night sky.

After six years, we are whole again.