Chapter 9 : Beneath the Blood Moon
The first blow wasn't a blade.
It was the sound—an eruption of steel clashing, of war cries rising like ghosts from the trees, and the thunder of boots on blackened soil. Aldric's sword met the Guild captain's with a metallic screech, sparks flying between them. Elara was already moving—fluid, fast, a blur of ash-gray cloak and feral eyes.
And just like that, the world splintered into chaos.
But even in that storm, she could hear it—her heartbeat pounding like war drums inside her chest. She hadn't shifted yet. She was holding it back. Still trying to fight as herself.
Because something inside her whispered: once you lose control, you may not get it back.
The Guild didn't fight like ordinary soldiers. They were trained to hunt her kind—precise, brutal, relentless. Silver-tipped weapons. Firebombs made to spread panic. They'd studied her. Prepared for her.
But they hadn't prepared for the king who fought beside her.
Aldric fought like a man with nothing left to lose—like his blood was on fire. Not for glory. Not for vengeance. For her.
Every time she faltered, he was there. A shield. A blade. A voice shouting her name above the noise.
"Elara—behind you!"
She spun just in time, ducking the blade meant for her throat. Her fist collided with her attacker's jaw, bone crunching. He dropped.
But there were more. Always more.
Kaelen's bow sang from the treeline—arrows flying like whispers of death. She had sworn to protect Elara with her life. And tonight, she meant it.
"Elara!" Kaelen's voice cut through the fray. "They're flanking from the west!"
Elara turned, eyes scanning, and she saw it—two squads trying to circle. She ran toward them, dodging flames, her lungs burning. For a moment, everything slowed. Her senses sharpened. She could hear heartbeats. Smell sweat. Taste fear.
And then—screaming.
A scream that didn't belong to a soldier.
Her blood turned cold.
It was Aldric.
She found him on the hill, struggling against the captain—the same man who had called her "Subject 17" with venom in his voice. Aldric's blade had snapped. He was bleeding from a gash on his side.
"Get away from him!" Elara roared.
The captain turned, smiling. "Ah. There you are."
She launched at him, all restraint gone. Their blades clashed—his with deadly precision, hers with raw fury. She moved faster than she ever had, but he kept up. Not because he was stronger. Because he knew her. Every instinct. Every weakness.
"You think this is power?" he sneered. "You're nothing but a failed experiment in a pretty body."
Elara gritted her teeth. "Then let me show you what failure feels like."
She disarmed him with a savage twist and slammed her fist into his chest, sending him sprawling. But it wasn't enough. He recovered too quickly. His dagger flashed in the dark—heading straight for Aldric.
She moved without thinking.
The blade sliced through her shoulder.
She didn't scream. She didn't fall.
She shifted.
It wasn't graceful.
It was agony.
Bones cracked. Skin tore. Her clothes shredded around her transforming frame. The beast inside had waited too long, too quietly. Now it tore its way free with rage.
But it wasn't a monster.
It was her.
Elara—reborn.
Fur shimmered like night sky. Her eyes glowed gold. She stood, tall and terrible, between the captain and Aldric.
The captain's confidence finally cracked.
He stepped back. "No… no, that's not possible."
She growled—low and lethal.
And then she lunged.
It wasn't a fight. It was a reckoning.
The captain tried to strike, but she was everywhere. Claws slicing. Fangs flashing. Every blow was calculated. Precise. Not to kill. To punish.
To make him remember what it felt like to fear.
When she finally pinned him, bleeding and broken, she could have ended it.
But she didn't.
Instead, she leaned close, her voice a growl in his ear.
"You don't get to win. You don't get to turn people into monsters and walk away."
Then she stood, shifted back—blood-soaked, trembling, human again.
Kaelen appeared moments later, limping, but alive. "It's over," she said, her voice shaking. "They're retreating."
But Elara didn't look relieved.
She looked at Aldric, crumpled and unconscious beside her, his shirt soaked red.
"No," she whispered. "It's not over yet."
The healer worked in silence.
Elara knelt beside Aldric's bed, hands clasped, refusing to leave. Her shoulder was wrapped, her skin still raw from the shift. But she didn't care.
"I should've protected him," she whispered.
Kaelen knelt beside her. "You did. If it weren't for you, we'd all be dead."
"I was so scared," Elara said, voice cracking. "Not of dying. Of losing him."
"He's still here," Kaelen said softly. "And he'd walk through hell again for you."
Aldric woke hours later, his eyelids fluttering open. The first thing he saw was her.
Hair tangled. Face streaked with dirt and dried blood. Eyes red from tears.
He smiled weakly. "You look terrible."
A laugh broke out of her—shaky, wet, real. "You idiot."
"Did we win?" he asked.
She nodded, brushing a hand over his forehead. "We survived."
His fingers found hers, squeezing weakly. "That's enough."
Later that night, Elara stood on the same cliff where they'd kissed beneath the stars. The forest below was still. Quiet. The blood moon had passed.
But something else remained.
She felt different.
Stronger. Not just in body—but in soul.
She had faced the darkest parts of herself… and hadn't broken.
A soft footstep behind her.
Aldric.
He leaned on a crutch, still pale, but standing.
"You should be resting," she scolded gently.
"And miss this?" He looked out over the forest. "No chance."
They stood in silence for a while. Then he said:
"You didn't lose yourself."
She turned to him. "No. I found myself."
He reached for her hand. "What happens now?"
Elara looked at the horizon.
"We rebuild. We help others like me. We protect the peace we bled for."
"And us?" he asked.
She smiled. "You're stuck with me."
He laughed. "Then I'm the luckiest man alive."
She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder.
For the first time in a long time, the future didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like a promise.
To be continued.....
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