The Shifting Ceremony
I was the only one who didn’t shift.
They stood in a circle of moonlight, their bodies shimmering, bones snapping, skin pulling tight over something ancient and animal beneath.
I stood just outside of their circle, alone.
The air was thick with fur and magic, the forest alive with howls as one by one, they rose onto four legs-sleek, proud, powerful. Shifting for the first time was sacred. A rite.
But me?
I stayed human.
“Null,” someone whispered. I didn’t turn to see who. The word was louder than the drums pounding in the familiar ritual procession.
I’d known it was coming. Still, my heart cracked like a tree in winter.
The Elders watched from the edge of the clearing, their expressions unreadable.
Except for the high priestess, whose lips barely moved as she whispered to the man next to her.
“Another failed line,” he muttered in disgust.
I lowered my eyes, holding back the burn behind them.
I never should have come to this damn ceremony.
“Kael,” someone barked.
I turned.
That’s when I saw him.
He wasn’t part of my pack. I’d never seen him before. He stepped through the tree line like he belonged to the night itself-tall, dark, half-shadow. A black coat slung over his shoulders, silver chains hanging from his belt, boots crusted in blood and soil.
But it wasn’t his presence that froze me.
It was the moon behind him.
It was red.
“The Alpha of the Dead Moon,” someone whispered.
The name scraped across the clearing like claws.
He looked straight at me. He then said the words I’ll never forget:
“She’s the one I want.”
