THE TERROR OF FULL MOON

Aeris's Pov

The night had fallen swiftly, the air cold and still as we made our way through the dense woods. Tristan led the way, his steps quiet and practiced, a man used to moving unseen. I kept Ares close, my eyes darting behind us, heart pounding with every step we took. Veyron’s men had been too close. The hairs on the back of my neck were still standing, the adrenaline of fleeing settling into a gnawing dread. But now, for the first time in years, I felt a fleeting sense of safety—if only for a moment.

We reached a small, isolated cottage nestled among the trees, away from the main road. It wasn’t much, but it would hide us for now.

"Stay here," Tristan instructed, his voice quiet but firm. "I’ll set up a perimeter. We can’t afford to let our guard down."

I nodded, holding Ares's hand tighter as we stepped into the small, dimly lit house. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. I sat with him by the warmth, trying to settle the storm inside me.

Tristan’s voice cut through the silence as he entered, his face grim. "I’ll make sure you’re not followed. We can’t afford any mistakes."

"Thank you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I was grateful for his help, but something in me resisted. The guilt of dragging him into this, into the war I had left behind, gnawed at me.

When Tristan returned from securing the perimeter, he lingered by the door, his gaze never leaving me.

"Aeris," he started, his voice low, "you can’t keep running forever. You and your son... you can’t protect him alone. Not after what happened in Valic."

I stiffened, the memories of that night crashing back into my mind. The screams, the blood, the devastation. Ares had nearly lost control, his lycan side far too strong for a child. But I couldn’t allow myself to think of that, to admit the truth.

"I can handle it," I replied, my voice sharper than I intended. "I won’t bring Mistefell into this. Not again. Caspian… he doesn’t need to deal with this. I won’t put them at risk."

Tristan sighed heavily, walking over to stand beside me. "Aeris," he said, his voice softer now. "Mistefell is your home. You’ve built something there. And you have people who care about you. Caspian would never leave you to face this alone, and neither will I."

I shook my head, a fierce, stubborn determination in my chest. "No. I can’t bring this back to Mistefell. They’ve already suffered enough because of me. I will protect Ares—alone, if I have to."

"You can’t do this alone," Tristan pressed. "I know you’re strong, Aeris, but you can’t protect him from everything. The enemy is closing in. You need help."

The weight of his words pressed down on me, suffocating. The truth was undeniable. But my pride... my need to keep everyone I loved safe, to shield them from my mistakes, made me push back.

"Tristan," I said, my voice trembling just slightly. "Please, I’m asking you… never mention my name to Arabella. She… she doesn’t know. She can’t know."

Tristan’s expression softened, a flash of understanding passing through his gaze. He nodded slowly. "I won’t say a word, Aeris. But you need to make a choice. Running won’t solve this. It never does."

I turned my face away, unable to look him in the eye. "I’ve already made my choice."

The tension in the room was thick, but there was nothing more to say. We stayed there, in the silence of the cottage, Ares asleep beside me. But no matter how hard I tried to calm my racing thoughts, the weight of what lay ahead loomed over me like a storm cloud. I couldn’t run forever, but I couldn’t let anyone else face this with me.

As the moon climbed higher into the sky, I finally managed to fall into a restless sleep. But the peace didn’t last long.

A sharp, eerie silence woke me in the dead of night. The wind had stopped, the world outside as still as if time itself had frozen. The fire in the hearth flickered weakly, casting faint shadows across the walls. My heart thudded in my chest, a cold sweat forming on the back of my neck.

I glanced to my side.

Ares was gone.

My breath caught, panic rising in my throat. I stood quickly, my legs unsteady as I moved to the door, eyes scanning the shadows outside. "Ares!" I called softly, but there was no response.

The silence was suffocating. Every step I took felt like it might be my last. I could feel the air thickening with something unnatural, something dangerous.

I stepped outside, my senses on high alert. The night was unnervingly quiet—no birds, no rustle of leaves in the trees. Just that oppressive silence.

And then, I saw it.

The villagers. Their bodies, torn apart, littered the ground in grotesque piles. Blood stained the earth beneath them, and a bitter, metallic scent hung in the air.

My stomach twisted, nausea threatening to overwhelm me, but I forced myself to look further.

In the center of the carnage, standing as still as a statue, was Ares. His small frame was bathed in the pale moonlight, his face illuminated with an unnatural golden glow. His eyes—no longer the innocent brown they had once been—burned a fierce neon gold, glowing with an otherworldly intensity.

My breath hitched, my heart plummeting. Ares was no longer just a child. He was something more, something darker.

And then I saw it—the blood dripping from his hands, the savage, wild way he stood among the destruction. He was in his lycan form.

"Ares!" I shouted, my voice breaking through the silence. I took a hesitant step forward, my heart aching with fear for him. "Ares, please, come to me."

He turned slowly, his movements unnaturally smooth, the animal in him evident in the way he regarded me. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I saw a flicker of recognition. But then, as if his human side was slipping away, the coldness returned.

I reached out a trembling hand. "Ares…"

But he didn’t move.

My son was lost to me, and the world was closing in.