chapter 4: MARKER BY SHADOWS

The shadows followed her.

Seraphine could feel them—silent, weightless, but always there. Clinging to her skin like invisible hands. Since taking the Moonbound oath and receiving the bite, the world had shifted. Her senses were sharper, yes, but so were her instincts. And those instincts screamed that something wasn’t right.

Auren had disappeared at first light, leaving her alone in the stone cottage tucked deep within the forest. He said he had to “scout the perimeter,” but the way he’d gripped the doorframe before leaving, his eyes flitting toward the trees, told her it was more than that. Something—or someone—was coming.

And it was after her.

She stood by the fireplace, wrapped in a wool blanket, her body still sore from the ritual. The crescent-shaped scar on her shoulder pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat. At first, it had burned like hellfire, but now it was cold. Too cold. Like something inside her was freezing over.

She stared into the fire, hoping its warmth would seep into her bones.

You are no longer who you were.

Auren’s voice echoed in her memory. You’ve been claimed by the moon… but that light comes with shadows. And they will test you.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

Seraphine spun around, eyes narrowed. “Auren?”

No answer.

Only silence.

She stepped forward, the wooden floor groaning beneath her feet. A soft draft brushed her ankles, and she glanced down—only to see the rug had shifted, revealing a hatch in the floor.

Strange. That hadn’t been there before.

Her pulse quickened. She approached cautiously, kneeling down to lift the iron latch. The wood groaned, and the scent of damp earth wafted up.

A basement?

Why would Auren keep it hidden?

With shaking fingers, she grabbed the lantern from the shelf and descended the narrow staircase. The light flickered against stone walls, casting dancing shadows around her. As she reached the bottom, the air thickened. Cold. Heavy. Almost… mournful.

The room was small, lined with shelves filled with books, vials, and strange relics. But it was what stood in the center that made her breath hitch.

A mirror.

Tall, ancient, framed in blackened silver. The surface shimmered like water—distorted, unreal. And her reflection—

Wasn’t her.

Seraphine froze.

The woman in the mirror had her face, yes. Her hair. Her eyes. But there was something wrong. Her eyes were too dark, almost hollow. Her mouth twisted in a cruel smile that didn’t belong to her.

Seraphine took a step back, but the reflection didn’t mimic her. Instead, it stepped forward.

“No,” she whispered. “This isn’t real.”

The reflection leaned in, pressing its hands against the glass. Her lips moved, forming words she couldn’t hear—until she could.

“You were chosen… but you don’t belong.”

Seraphine stumbled away from the mirror, heart pounding. The shadows in the room thickened, curling around her like smoke. She ran up the stairs, slamming the hatch shut and dragging the rug over it, as if that alone could seal away what she’d seen.

The shadows didn’t care.

They followed.

That night, she barely slept. The whispers began as soon as the moon rose—soft, unintelligible murmurs slithering into her ears like silk. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the mirror. Saw her. Or… whatever that was.

By morning, the world felt wrong.

Birdsong was replaced by silence. The forest no longer sang with life, but watched. Waiting.

When Auren returned, he looked worse than before. His clothes were torn. Blood—dry and dark—streaked down his temple.

“They found you,” he said, breathless.

Seraphine’s voice was raw. “Who?”

He didn’t answer. Just locked the door and began reinforcing the windows.

“I saw something,” she continued. “Downstairs. In the mirror. It looked like me, but… it wasn’t me.”

Auren stopped mid-motion.

“You went into the basement?”

“I— I didn’t mean to. It was just… there.”

He turned slowly. His expression was unreadable. But his voice… his voice was cold. “You weren’t supposed to go down there.”

“Well, I did.” Her temper flared. “And now I’m seeing things. Hearing things. There’s something wrong with me, Auren.”

He crossed the room and gripped her arms. “Listen to me—what you saw in that mirror, it’s not real. It’s a remnant. A cursed echo, bound to the bloodline of the first Moonbound. It reflects your fears, your darkness.”

“Why the hell would you keep something like that?”

“Because sometimes,” he said, voice tight, “we need to be reminded of what we’re fighting.”

Her breath caught.

He let her go and backed away, running a hand through his hair. “They’re called the Noctis. Shadows that feed on the moonbound. They were born from a broken vow—when Elira, the first of your line, betrayed the moon’s trust. Now they exist to torment her descendants.”

Seraphine sank into a chair. “So I’m cursed.”

“You’re marked. There’s a difference.”

She laughed bitterly. “Feels the same.”

Auren crouched in front of her, his silver eyes softer now. “You’re not alone in this, Seraphine. But you have to be strong. The Noctis are drawn to your transformation. They’ll try to break you from within—through fear. Doubt. Regret.”

She looked down at her shoulder, where the silver scar shimmered faintly. “I already feel like I’m breaking.”

“Good,” he said.

She blinked. “What?”

He stood. “Because that means you’re still fighting it. The moment you stop… that’s when they win.”

That night, Seraphine didn’t sleep. She sat by the fire with a dagger beside her and salt lines around the room like Auren had instructed. Still, the whispers came. But this time, she didn’t flinch.

She faced them.

“You want me?” she whispered. “Then come get me.”

And for a moment, they did. Shadows gathered at the edge of the room, shifting and writhing. Eyes blinked open within the darkness, and the mirror downstairs groaned as if something was trying to crawl through.

But she stayed steady.

Auren appeared in the doorway, his voice sharp and commanding. He raised his hand, speaking in the same ancient language he used during the oath. The shadows screamed—yes, screamed—and scattered like dust in wind.

Silence returned.

He looked at her, eyes dark with worry. “You didn’t give in.”

“No,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I faced it.”

A flicker of something passed through his gaze—pride, maybe. Or fear.

“Then you’re stronger than I thought.”

Seraphine stood, her legs trembling but steady. “What now?”

He turned toward the window. The moon was rising.

“Now,” he said, “we train. Because the shadows were just the beginning. There’s something far darker waiting. And it knows your name.”