Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Luna
Pure instinct took over. My arms shot out, my fingers clawing desperately at anything within reach.
By some miracle, my right hand closed around a thick branch jutting from the cliff face. My momentum jerked my shoulder with such force I thought my arm might tear clean off, but I held on.
Dangling one-handed over the forest floor, I managed to swing my left arm up and secure a better grip. My heart roared against my ribs as I pressed my body against the cold stone.
The Wolf Queen’s massive head appeared over the edge of the cliff, her blue eyes peering down at me with what looked suspiciously like amusement.
You have questions, she said, her voice reverberating through my mind. Ask them.
“Are you kidding me?” I snarled. “You just tried to kill me!”
The Wolf Queen continued to stare. Waiting.
“Where’s Damien?” I demanded. “Are you going to kill him just because he’s a vampire?”
The night-son faces his own trial, as befits his nature. Her massive head tilted. You concern yourself with his welfare so much that he’s your first question. Interesting.
I chose to ignore that observation as I searched the cliff face for hand and foot holds. “You said we began a dangerous magic by mixing our blood. What did you mean?”
The Wolf Queen settled onto her haunches, still towering above me. The essence of vampire and werewolf, when combined, creates power beyond either. Her blue eyes studied me intently. The Shadow Fang was born of this discovery—a tool to manipulate the fundamental nature of supernatural beings.
I swung my foot toward a divot in the rock and secured my boot into it, easing the burden on my shoulders some. “And our blood mixing at the entrance—“
—began an alteration in you both, she said. A small change now, but one that will grow with time and proximity. Already you carry fragments of his memories, do you not? Feel echoes of his hunger?
I couldn’t deny it. Since our blood had mingled at the entrance, I still felt foreign sensations occasionally intruding on my consciousness. Flashes of places I’d never seen, faces I’d never known, the strange burning thirst that I now recognized as Damien’s constant companion.
“Is it permanent?” I asked, spotting a hand hold filled with luminescent green moss.
That depends on your choices in the days to come, she said. But we digress. You are here to be tested, Luna Rookwood, not merely to satisfy curiosity about Damien.
“I wasn’t just asking about Damien, you oversized furball,” I grumbled, then louder said, “I’m coming up.”
With one hand and one foot secured in the cliff face, I swung the rest of my body toward the rock wall, finding whatever rock or narrow ledge I could to help support my weight. My fingers screamed in protest while my heart rioted behind my chest. The cold, unforgiving stone pressed against my skin.
I forced myself to breathe. Panic was the enemy here.
Looking up, I could make out the cliff edge maybe eight feet above—not an impossible climb, but daunting when every muscle already trembled from the effort of not falling to my death for the second time today and trying to prevent Damien from doing the same.
We must’ve really pissed gravity off somehow.
Taking stock of my immediate options, I spotted a small outcropping about two feet to my right. I stretched my leg, my toe scraping against the rock face until it found purchase. Testing it with increasing pressure, I shifted my weight gradually, freeing my left hand to search for the next hold.
Wind stirred the air and picked up, whistling through the crevices and threatening to peel me off the cliff like a stubborn sticker. Sweat trickled down my back. I reached upward, exploring the surface until I found a jagged crack just wide enough to wedge my hand into.
“One move at a time,” I whispered as I inched higher.
The new handhold crumbled away beneath my fingers, leaving me scrambling for new purchase. My stomach bottomed out. My heart launched into my throat, leaving a bitter taste.
Halfway up, my arms began to burn with fatigue, my muscles quivering with the continuous strain. I paused, pressing my forehead against the cool stone, willing strength back into my limbs.
“I love you, gravity,” I whispered. “Just pretend I’m a cat and bend your own rules for me, okay?”
I continued upward, finding a rhythm in the climb—test, grip, pull, reach, repeat.
My fingertips started bleeding, but the pain became secondary to my singular focus of the Wolf Queen watching from above.
The cliff face grew more generous near the top, offering wider ledges and deeper handholds as if rewarding my persistence.
With one final, straining reach, I grasped the edge of the precipice. I hauled myself up and over, rolling onto solid ground with my chest heaving and my limbs trembling.
“Swear to god,” I breathed, “if you push me over that cliff again, I’ll find a way to haunt your already dead ass.”
But the Wolf Queen was no longer here.
The forest had transformed into a different scene—a ceremonial clearing I recognized from my childhood.
Stone pillars carved with pack symbols formed a sacred circle where important rituals were conducted.
In the center stood my dad, wearing the formal regalia of the Alpha, his face set in lines of stern judgment.
Your trial continues with what you left behind, the Wolf Queen said from inside my head. The pack bond you lost.
The phantom version of my dad fixed his gaze on me with cold assessment. “Luna Rookwood, you stand accused of placing personal desire above pack welfare and of diluting our bloodline with a rival’s pup. How do you answer?”
I recognized the question from my banishment ceremony, but this time there was no infant in my arms, no Jade crying on the outskirts. I faced my dad’s judgment alone.
“I chose love and life over hatred and control,” I said. “I chose my daughter over archaic prejudices about bloodlines. If that makes me unworthy of the pack, so be it.”
“So easily you discard generations of tradition,” he countered. “Traditions that kept our pack strong while others diminished. Did you ever consider that your ‘freedom’ weakens the very foundation that protected you since birth?”
The question struck closer to my doubts than I wanted to admit. Despite everything, part of me still mourned the loss of pack connection, the sense of belonging to something larger than myself. In my most private thoughts, I sometimes wondered if my choices had been selfish rather than principled.
Still, I didn’t regret a single thing.
“Traditions should serve the pack, not strangle it,” I said. “A pack that demands the sacrifice of innocent life to maintain its purity has already lost its way.”
My dad’s form blurred, momentarily taking on aspects of the Wolf Queen before resolving again. “And yet you would use any power, make any bargain—even with our natural enemy—to achieve your ends. How does this differ from the decisions of Alpha leadership that you condemned?”
I opened my mouth to speak but snapped it closed again. Was I any different from my dad, justifying questionable means for what I deemed worthy ends?
“My choices affect me,” I said slowly, finding my way to the truth as I spoke.
“I risk myself for those I love, not sacrifice others for abstract principles. You demanded I kill or abandon my unborn child for pack purity—a child who threatened no one and didn’t ask to be put in that situation.
That crosses the line between compromise and cruelty, especially when it’s my choice, not anyone else’s, including yours. ”
I stepped closer to my dad’s apparition, meeting his cold gaze. “I don’t reject all tradition, only those parts that demand the strong prey upon the vulnerable. A true Alpha protects all pack members, especially those who can’t protect themselves.”
The ceremonial clearing wavered around us, my dad’s form becoming increasingly transparent as my conviction strengthened. In his place appeared Jade and Aria back at the Repository, both peaceful in their unconscious state.
I gasped as my heart broke all over again. I reached out to touch them, but I let my hand hang there, unsure if I could stay standing if I brushed Aria’s tiny fingers. Unsure if I could stay standing if my hand met empty air.
And if the Shadow Fang requires sacrifice to work its magic? the Wolf Queen asked from beside me. If saving these two you love demands payment in blood or life? What then, Luna?
“If sacrifice is required, it will be mine to make,” I said without hesitation. “Not theirs. My choice, my consequences.”
The forest clearing dissolved around us, returning to the moonlit grove where we had begun. The Wolf Queen resumed her massive form, regarding me with what seemed like approval.
Well answered, wolf-daughter.
“What’s happening to Damien?” I asked. “Is he finished?”
The night-son faces greater challenges in his trial.
He confronts the weight of centuries—lives taken, bonds broken, power misused.
His burden is heavier than yours, his path to redemption longer.
The great wolf’s ears flicked forward. Your worry for him is illuminating. Are you in love with the night-son?
As I worried my bottom lip with my teeth, I spun my engagement ring around and around my finger. “No.”
Such a simple word, but why did it make my breath hitch?
But you desire him.
“So what if I do?”
She looked at me for a long moment with her blue wolf eyes as if deciding something. A night-son and I created the Shadow Fang.
“I already know—“
I fell in love with that night-son.
Her words bowled into me. She fell in love with the vampire who’d helped create the Shadow Fang? But she’d waged a whole war against the vampires and killed thousands, probably hundreds of thousands, of them. But a single one changed everything?
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
You’ve passed your trial, the Wolf Queen said.