M O R G A N
I woke up to the sound of wind howling like wolves in mourning, or maybe in warning. The temple had gone quiet again, but not empty. Nothing was ever empty here anymore. Not after what I’d summoned. Not after what I’d become.
The shadows cling to me now like skin. They move when I move, breathe when I breathe. I don't walk, I glide. I don't bleed, I burn. My heart is no longer my own. It belongs to the dark. It beats for vengeance, and nothing else.
The demon marked me. Not with scars, but with purpose.
I am not Luna.
I am not a part of a pack.
I am not a wolf.
I am something new.
Something better.
A demon.
I step out from the stone altar chamber, my bare feet silent against the cold rock. The moon hangs heavy above, fat and full, casting a light that once would’ve
