Chapter 8 - WAR OF THE BLOOD MOON
The silver markings on Rowan’s body shattered their physical limits.
A pillar of pure, blinding white light shot through the roof of the cavern, blasting stone into the sky and connecting her directly to the full moon shining above the storm clouds.
Her clothes dissolved into ethereal armor made of shimmering silver scales. A crown of starlight materialized above her head. Her hair floated around her in a weightless halo of glowing silver thread.
Marcus stumbled back, blindingly shielding his eyes. "What... what is this?!"
Rowan did not walk; she drifted forward, radiating an absolute power that crushed the remaining Syndicate rogues to their knees.
"I am Rowan of the First Blood," her voice echoed in harmony with a thousand ancestral wolves. "Chosen of the Goddess. Defender of the Pack."
She extended her hand toward Marcus. A lance of pure celestial fire formed in her palm.
Marcus raised his dark blade in a desperate attempt to block, but the moment the celestial fire touched the cursed steel, the sword vaporized into dust. The force of the strike hit Marcus in the chest, blasting him out of the cavern and sending him plunging over the cliff edge into the dark abyss below.
The remaining rogues scrambled on their hands and knees, weeping in terror as they fled into the blizzard.
The divine light slowly subsided, leaving the cave bathed in a soft, gentle glow. Rowan dropped to her knees beside Draven, who had shifted back into his human form, clutching his bleeding side. His skin was gray, black veins of shadow-curse spreading across his chest.
"Draven... stay with me," Rowan wept, pressing her glowing hands directly over the black wound.
"Rowan..." he rasped, his eyes struggling to stay open. "You... you were magnificent..."
"Quiet," she commanded gently.
She closed her eyes and poured her own life essence—the ancient, healing magic of the True Luna—into his body. The black veins retreated instantly. The torn flesh stitched itself back together under her glowing touch.
Draven gasped as fresh, powerful blood surged through his heart. His color returned, his golden eyes snapping open, full of vitality and life.
He reached up, grabbing her hand and pulling her down into a fierce, desperate kiss. Rowan melted against him, tasting the cold rain and the warm heat of his soul.
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When they parted, Draven smiled, running his hand through her silver-tinted hair. "My Luna."
"Come," Rowan said, helping him to his feet as the morning sun broke through the storm clouds, illuminating the majestic peak of the Moon Spire above them. "Let us finish this."
