We came up out of the Hollow like two corpses crawling out of a grave.

The tunnel spat us into the world just before dawn, somewhere on the edge of the Cascades, miles from Blackthorn territory. The sky was the color of a healing bruise, and the air tasted of pine sap and freedom and terror.

Selene's hand was still in mine.

Neither of us had let go since the Hollow.

My arm had healed wrong. The place where I'd torn a chunk out of myself was a raised, silver-white scar shaped like a crescent moon. Every time the wind touched it, the bond flared-hot, possessive, alive. Selene felt it too; I saw her shiver.

"We can't go back," she said quietly. "Not ever."

"I know."

"They'll hunt us. Both sides. My father will call it mercy when he puts the silver bullet in my brain."

I stopped walking. I turned to her.

"Then we don't give him the chance."

She stared at me for a long moment, violet eyes wide, lips parted like she was seeing me for the first time.

"You really mean that," she whispered. "You'd burn the entire pack down for me."

"I'd burn the world down if it kept you breathing," I said. The words came out raw, honest, terrifying. "But right now I just need you alive long enough to help me kill this thing inside you. After that... we will renegotiate."

A crooked smile tugged at her mouth. "Romantic."

"Shut up."

She kissed me instead.

We stole a truck from a logging camp an hour later-old Ford, rusted red, keys still in the ignition because humans are trusting idiots. Selene hot-wired it anyway, out of habit. I drove. She navigated using a burner phone she'd lifted from one of the Covenant guards.

First stop: Seattle.

Because the only clue we had to Nyx was a name, a rumor, and a photograph taken twenty-three years ago in the underground beneath Pike Place Market.

A blind woman with no eyes-just smooth skin where they should have been-feeding pigeons with hands covered in old burn scars shaped like full moons.

The picture had been tucked into the lining of Selene's silk dress. A gift from the Covenant, or a curse. We weren't sure yet.

We hit the city at noon.

Seattle smelled wrong to wolf noses-exhaust and fried food and too many humans packed too tight-but underneath it was something else. Something ancient and watchful. The bond between us kept flickering like a dying bulb.

Selene went rigid in the passenger seat.

"It's here," she whispered. "The Hunger. It's... tasting the city."

I found parking in a garage that stank of piss and old blood. We changed in the stairwell-hoodies up, baseball caps low, anything to hide the glowing marks on our skin. Mine had started bleeding light again, thin threads of silver and black seeping through my shirt like veins.

We looked like runaway teenagers.

We felt like a walking apocalypse.

The underground tour entrance was closed for "renovations," which translated to yellow tape and a bored security guard who took one look at the hundred-dollar bill Selene slid into his palm and suddenly remembered he had somewhere else to be.

We descended alone.

Seattle's underground is a maze of brick corridors and shattered skylights, purple glass crunching under boots, the ghosts of opium dens and brothels still clinging to the walls. Every step echoed.

Selene's breathing grew shallow.

"She's close," she said. "I can smell her. Ash and moonlight and... regret."

We found the pigeons first.

Hundreds of them. A living carpet of grey and white feathers, cooing softly in a dead-end alley lit only by a single shaft of dusty light. In the center sat the woman from the photograph.

Nyx.

She hadn't aged a day.

Skin pale as bone, hair long and white, wearing a tattered black coat that might once have been velvet. Her face was smooth where eyes should be, just gentle curves of scar tissue. She tilted her head as we approached, like she heard heartbeats instead of footsteps.

"Little vessel," she rasped. Voices like smoke over gravel. "You brought me a leash made of love. How quaint."

Selene stepped forward. "We're here to end it."

Nyx laughed. The pigeons took flight in a thunder of wings.

"End it?" She rose, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees. "Child, I swallowed the moon to cage it. I tore my own eyes out so I would never have to watch it feed again. And still it found you."

She turned her blind face toward me.

"And you, anchor. You smell like devotion and suicide. Delicious."

I bared my teeth. "Touch her and I'll-"

"You'll what?" Nyx stepped closer. The air around her rippled, distorted, like heat over asphalt. "Rip out your own heart and offer it up? You already started, didn't you?"

She touched my scarred forearm with ice-cold fingers.

The hunger roared inside Selene so loudly I felt it in my teeth.

Selene doubled over, claws slashing out, black veins racing up her arms.

"No," she gasped. "Not here-"

Nyx smiled without warmth.

"Run," she said. "Both of you. Before I decide to finish what I started three centuries ago."

We ran.

But the underground had changed.

Corridors twisted, bricks bled, and every turn led us deeper instead of out. The pigeons followed, a grey storm overhead. Nyx's laughter echoed from every direction.

We burst into an abandoned speakeasy-rotting velvet booths, shattered mirrors, a bar carved with crescent moons-and found we weren't alone.

Five wolves waited.

Blackthorn enforcers.

Led by Beta Rowan.

His eyes were dead. Grieving. Murderous.

"Selene," he said softly. "Your father sends his regards."

Silver nets flew.

I shifted mid-leap, clothes shredding, silver-grey wolf exploding out of my skin. I took the first net on my back-burning, searing-but rolled, flinging it off before it could tighten. Selene was slower; the Hunger was riding her hard. A net caught her mid-shift, silver threads biting deep.

She screamed.

The sound cracked something inside my skull.

I went feral.

Three enforcers went down in seconds-throats opened, spines snapped. Rowan shifted into a massive black wolf and met me head-on. We crashed together, fangs and fury, blood spraying across the bar.

He was bigger. Stronger. Trained.

I was faster. And I was done losing people I loved.

I feinted high, went low, locked my jaws around his foreleg and twisted until bone shattered. He howled. I used the moment to slam him into the bar, glass exploding.

Selene was on her knees, silver net smoking against her skin, black veins crawling up her throat.

Rowan shifted back, human and bleeding.

"You can't save her, omega," he spat. "She's a walking graveyard."

I shifted too, naked and bleeding and past caring.

"Maybe," I said. "But she's my graveyard."

I looked at Selene.

Her eyes were fully black now.

The remaining two enforcers backed away slowly.

"Rowan," one whispered. "We should go-"

Too late.

Selene rose.

The net melted off her like water.

She walked forward, barefoot over broken glass, and the temperature plummeted so fast my breath fogged.

"Uncle," she said, voice layered with a thousand hungry ghosts. "You smell like grief. I think I'll start with your tongue."

Rowan tried to shift again. Couldn't.

The Hunger held him frozen.

Selene reached for his face.

I stepped between them.

"Selene," I said softly. "Look at me."

The blackness flickered.

"Elara," she rasped, fighting. "Get out of the way."

"No."

Tears-actual tears-cut tracks down her bloodless cheeks.

"I'm going to kill him," she said. "Then everyone else. Then you. I can't stop it."

"You can." I took her face in both hands. "Because I'm not moving."

Rowan tried to run.

Selene's hand shot out, claws punching straight through his shoulder, pinning him to the wall like a butterfly.

He screamed.

Selene leaned in, mouth opening wide-too wide-fangs lengthening into something from nightmares.

I kissed her.

Not gentle.

I kissed her like I was drowning and she was the only air left in the world.

The hunger shrieked.

Power exploded outward-mirrors shattered, the bar split in half, pigeons rained from the ceiling dead.

Selene's claws retracted from Rowan's shoulder.

She collapsed into my arms, shaking, human again.

Rowan dropped, whimpering.

The two surviving enforcers bolted.

We didn't stop them.

Nyx's voice drifted from the shadows.

"Interesting," she said. "Love as a weapon. Crude. Effective."

She stepped into the ruined bar, coat swirling.

"You want to kill hunger?" she asked. "Then you need the Blade That Cuts Moonlight. Forged from the first silver the Goddess ever wept. Hidden where no wolf would ever look."

"Where?" Selene demanded, voice raw.

Nyx smiled.

"Inside the heart of the man who made the bargain three hundred years ago."

She pointed one scarred finger at the far wall.

A portrait hung there, half burned, half intact.

A man with violet eyes and a cruel mouth.

The first Blackthorn Alpha.

Selene's ancestor.

And-he looked exactly like Alpha Caelan.

Nyx laughed at our faces.

"Your father," she said, "has been lying to you your entire life, little vessel. He is the bargain. He is the cage. And he is coming for you both."

The ground shook.

Far above, sirens wailed.

Then Nyx did something neither of us expected.

She knelt.

Not to us.

To me.

"Anchor," she whispered, pressing something cold and sharp into my palm. A single black feather that hummed with power. "When the time comes, cut deep. Cut true. And do not hesitate."

She stood.

"Now run. He's almost here."

We ran.

Up collapsing stairs, through abandoned tunnels, into the blinding grey daylight of Seattle streets.

Behind us, the underground began to collapse-stone screaming, dust billowing like smoke.

We didn't look back.

We had twenty-four hours until the new moon.

We had a feather, a name, and the knowledge that the man who raised Selene was the monster we needed to kill.

And somewhere in the distance, church bells began to ring backwards.

The hunger was laughing inside both of us now.

And it sounded just like her father.

We stole another car-this one a matte-black Charger that growled like it was born angry-and pointed it east, toward the mountains that had once been home.

The Cascades rose ahead of us like the spine of some ancient sleeping beast. Snow already capped the highest peaks even though it was barely September. The bond between Selene and me had settled into a constant, low thrum, like a second heartbeat just under my ribs. Sometimes it purred. Sometimes it snarled. Right now it was screaming.

Because every mile we drove closer to Blackthorn territory, the Hunger got louder.

It wasn't just inside Selene anymore.

It was inside me.

I could feel it licking at the edges of my mind, tasting memories, whispering promises:

Give me one heart. Just one. I'll be quiet for days.

I'll let you kiss her without fear.

I'll let you sleep.

I kept both hands on the wheel so tight my knuckles went white.

Selene hadn't spoken in two hours.

She sat curled against the passenger window, knees to chest, staring at the forest sliding past like it might bite her. The black feather Nyx had given me was clutched between her fingers so hard the quill had started to bleed shadow.

"We're walking into a trap," she said finally, voice hoarse.

"I know."

"My father-he's not-he can't be-"

"I know."

She turned to me, violet eyes glassy with tears she refused to let fall. "If he really is the first Alpha... that means he's over three hundred years old. That means everything I thought I knew about my family is a lie."

I reached over and pried the feather from her death grip, laced our fingers instead.

"Then we burn the lie down and build something true on the ashes," I said. "Together."

She laughed, wet and broken. "You make it sound so easy."

"It's not. But dying is easier, and I'm done with easy."

The Charger ate the miles.

We crossed the invisible border into Blackthorn land just after midnight.

The wards hit us like a slap-ancient magic that tasted of pine needles and old blood. The car shuddered. The radio screamed static shaped like wolves howling. Selene's back arched; black veins spidered across her throat so fast I almost veered off the road.

"Pull over!" she gasped.

I slammed the brakes, skidding onto the shoulder. She was out the door before the car stopped rocking, vomiting black bile onto the frost-rimed gravel. The bond convulsed; I felt every heave like it was my own stomach turning inside out.

When it passed, she stayed on her knees, forehead pressed to the cold ground.

"It knows we're home," she whispered. "It's... happy."

I crouched beside her, slid my arms around her waist, pulled her back against my chest.

"Then let's give it something to be afraid of."

She turned in my arms and kissed me-desperate, filthy, tasting of darkness and tears. We made out on the side of the road like the world was ending tomorrow.

Because it probably was.

We ditched the Charger two miles from the main compound and went in on foot, cloaked in stolen enforcer jackets and the kind of silence only predators know. The forest was too quiet. No night birds. No insects. Just the wind moving through pine needles like a warning.

The pack village looked abandoned.

Windows dark. Doors hanging open. Blood on the porch steps, still wet.

Selene went rigid.

"Leander's birthday banner," she said, pointing with a shaking finger.

A faded blue banner still hung across the alpha lodge porch: HAPPY 8TH BIRTHDAY, LEE!

It had been twelve years.

She started running.

I followed.

We found the first body in the square.

An elder. Throat opened. Heart gone.

Then another.

And another.

Twenty-three in total. Arranged in a perfect circle around the ceremonial bonfire pit. Their chests carved open with the same surgical precision I remembered from the old mill.

But this time, the hearts weren't eaten.

They were displayed.

Strung up on silver wire like grotesque garlands, still beating.

Selene made a sound like a dying animal.

In the center of the circle stood Alpha Caelan.

He hadn't aged a day since I last saw him. Tall, broad-shouldered, silver-streaked hair tied back, violet eyes glowing in the dark.

He smiled when he saw us.

"Hello, daughter," he said gently. "Welcome home."

Selene's knees buckled.

I caught her before she hit the ground.

Caelan's gaze shifted to me. "And Elara. My son's mate. How poetic."

The bond exploded with rage so pure it nearly blinded me.

Selene lunged.

She was fast-faster than I'd ever seen-but Caelan was faster. He caught her by the throat one-handed and lifted her clean off the ground like she weighed nothing.

"Still fighting," he sighed. "After all these years."

Selene clawed at his arm. Black veins raced across her skin, down her arms, trying to infect him. He just laughed.

"You can't curse what's already cursed, child."

He flung her sideways. She hit the ground hard, rolled, came up coughing blood.

I shifted without thinking-silver wolf, bigger than I'd ever been, fueled by the bond and pure terror. I went for his throat.

He backhanded me out of the air like I was a pup.

I crashed through the birthday banner, splintered wood and pain exploding across my ribs. Shifted back human on impact, naked and bleeding.

Caelan walked over slowly, boots crunching on frost.

"You're stronger," he said, almost proud. "The bond suits you."

He crouched, cupped my chin, forced me to meet his eyes.

Up close, they weren't violet anymore.

They were galaxies.

Swirling black and starlight and ancient, endless hunger.

"You're not Caelan," I rasped.

"Oh, I am," he said. "I've been Caelan for two centuries. Before that I was Rowan. Before that, Elias. I wear my descendants like coats. When one body fails, I simply move to the next."

He released my chin, stood.

"The bargain was never for a vessel," he said conversationally. "It was for a cage. One strong enough to hold the Hunger forever. And every generation, I choose a daughter to test. To see if love can finally leash what fear never could."

Selene was on her feet again, swaying.

"You killed Leander," she said. Voice dead. "Your own son."

"He was weak," Caelan said. "Like all the others. But you, Selene... you brought me something new."

He gestured at me.

"An anchor willing to tear her own flesh to keep you sane. That's... unprecedented."

He spread his arms.

"So here we are. The final test. Kill me, and the Hunger dies with me. Fail, and I take your bodies, your bond, your love-everything-and wear it for another three hundred years."

Selene looked at me.

I looked at her.

We didn't need words.

We attacked together.

It was beautiful.

It was suicide.

Selene went high, claws and fangs and raw power. I went low, faster, meaner, fueled by every ounce of rage and love I'd ever swallowed. We moved like we'd been fighting side by side for centuries-like the bond had choreographed us before we were born.

Caelan laughed the entire time.

He broke my arm in two places. Shattered Selene's collarbone. Threw us around the square like rag dolls.

But we kept getting up.

Because every time he hurt one of us, the other felt it-and turned it into fuel.

At some point I lost track of time.

There was only blood and bone and the sound of Selene screaming my name like a prayer.

Then Nyx's feather-still clutched in my fist-began to burn.

White-hot.

I remembered her words: When the time comes, cut deep. Cut true. And do not hesitate.

Caelan had Selene pinned face-down in the dirt, one boot on her neck, hand buried in her chest.

He was going to take her heart.

I didn't think.

I just moved.

The feather elongated in my grip, becoming a blade of pure starlight-long, thin, humming with power older than the moon itself.

I drove it straight through Caelan's back.

Into the place where a heart should have been.

He froze.

Looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, silver and black light pouring out like blood.

Then he laughed.

Actually laughed.

"Well done, anchor," he said, voice distorting, layering, becoming a thousand voices at once. "You found the only thing that can kill me."

He turned, still impaled, and smiled with too many teeth.

"But you have to twist it."

Selene's eyes met mine across the square.

Tears and blood and love.

"Do it," she mouthed.

I twisted.

The world ended.

Light exploded outward-white and black and every color that had ever existed. The hanging hearts burst into ash. The bodies on the ground dissolved into silver dust. The bond between Selene and me ignited, a supernova behind my ribs.

Caelan-no, the thing wearing Caelan-screamed.

A sound that shattered windows for miles.

His body aged centuries in seconds-skin withering, hair going white, bones crumbling. The starlight blade ate him from the inside out until there was nothing left but a hollow man-shaped silhouette of ash.

Then the wind took even that.

Silence.

Absolute.

Selene and I lay in the ruins of the square, broken and bleeding and alive.

The Hunger was gone.

I felt its absence like a missing limb.

Selene crawled to me across the frost, leaving a trail of blood.

We met in the middle.

Collapsed together.

She touched my face with shaking fingers.

"Is it over?" she whispered.

I kissed her instead of answering.

Because I wasn't sure.

The bond was still there-quieter now, gentler. But something else lingered. A whisper at the edge of hearing.

A promise.

Or a warning.

We limped away from the village as the sun rose-two girls covered in blood and ash, holding each other up.

Behind us, the forest began to burn.

Not with fire.

With moonlight.

Every tree, every leaf, every blade of grass glowing soft silver.

And carved into the bark of the oldest pine, fresh and bleeding sap, were four words:

THE CAGE IS EMPTY

We didn't look back again.

But somewhere, deep in the Hollow beneath the mountain, thirteen ancient thrones began to crack.

One by one.

And in the silence that followed, something vast and nameless stretched.

Woke up.

And smiled.

We didn't make it ten miles before the sky broke.

It was just past noon, the kind of cold, clear mountain day that usually smells of pine and snowmelt. Then the sun dimmed, like someone had slid a dark lens over the world. The light turned bruise-purple. Every shadow stretched wrong, too long, too hungry.

Selene stopped walking so suddenly I walked into her back.

She was staring upward, mouth open, pupils blown wide.

"Elara," she whispered. "Look."

I looked.

The moon hung in the daytime sky, full and swollen and wrong. Not silver. Not white.

Black.

A perfect circle of living void, edges writhing with what looked like tentacles of darkness. And it was looking back at us.

The bond between us convulsed. A sound tore out of Selene's throat that wasn't human.

She collapsed.

I caught her before she hit the ground, knees sinking into frost-crusted pine needles.

Her skin was burning-fever-hot, black veins racing under the surface like living tattoos. The mark on her collarbone (once two drops, silver and black) had become a gaping hole. Not a wound. A mouth. Tiny teeth of shadow gnawed at the edges, trying to widen it.

"Selene-breathe-talk to me-"

She clawed at her chest, nails carving bloody furrows. "It's not gone," she rasped. "It never left. It just... changed cages."

Her eyes rolled white.

Then she started screaming.

Not pain.

Recognition.

I felt it a heartbeat later.

The thing that had worn Caelan's face for three hundred years?

It had never been the Hunger.

It had been the lock.

And we had just shattered it.

The black moon pulsed once.

Every wolf on the continent felt it.

I felt them all-thousands of minds, thousands of hearts-suddenly connected by a single, terrible thread. A chorus of howls rose from every direction, human throats, wolf throats, something in between.

The Hollow Moon had opened its eye.

And it was starving.

Selene went limp in my arms, unconscious but breathing. The mouth-mark on her chest had stopped growing, but it wept black blood that smoked when it touched the ground.

I carried her.

Didn't think about how far, or where, or what came next.

Just walked.

Hours bled into each other. The black moon never moved, hanging there like a hole someone had punched in the sky. The forest around us changed. Trees grew twisted, bark peeling back to reveal wet red muscle underneath. Rivers ran backward. Ravens circled overhead and spoke in children's voices.

I kept walking until I smelled salt and city and human fear.

Portland.

Night had fallen without me noticing, but it wasn't real night. The black moon provided its own light-sickly, violet-edged, turning everything the color of old bruises.

The city was burning.

Not with fire.

With wolves.

Hundreds of them. Thousands. Normal wolves, werewolves, something in between-tearing through downtown like a tidal wave of teeth and claws. Cars overturned. Glass rained. Humans screamed and ran and died.

And every single wolf had the same eyes.

Black. Empty. Hungry.

The Hollow Moon was feeding.

I clutched Selene tighter and ran against the tide, searching for anywhere that wasn't screaming.

Found it in an abandoned Catholic church on the east side-doors barred, stained glass shattered, pews overturned. Someone had painted protective sigils on the walls in what smelled like human blood.

I kicked the door in.

The nave was empty except for one person.

A woman in a priest's collar, sleeves rolled up, arms covered in runes that glowed faint gold. Mid-thirties, short-cropped hair, scar running from her left ear to her mouth.

She leveled a shotgun at my face.

"Name," she barked.

"Elara Voss. Blackthorn pack. This is Selene Blackthorn. She's hurt."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Blackthorn. The bloodline that broke the world."

I bared my teeth. "We didn't break it. We just took the lid off Hell."

She studied me for a long second, then lowered the shotgun.

"Get her to the altar. There's still some consecrated ground left."

I carried Selene down the aisle. Laid her on the white cloth. The black mouth on her chest hissed when it touched the altar, smoke curling.

The priestess knelt beside us, pressed two fingers to Selene's throat.

"She's dying," she said flatly. "Whatever's inside her is eating her alive from the new cage."

"I know," I said. "How do we stop it?"

"You don't." She met my eyes. "You become its new jailer. Willingly. Forever."

I laughed. It came out cracked. "Been there. Done that. Got the scars."

She shook her head. "Not like this. The Hunger has no host now. It's pure. Unfiltered. It will burn through every wolf on earth until nothing is left but teeth and moonlight. The only way to cage it again is to give it something it wants more than freedom."

She reached into her collar and pulled out a silver pendant shaped like a key.

"A soul willingly offered," she said. "One soul to hold the Hollow Moon shut for another thousand years."

I stared at the key.

Then at Selene's pale face.

"No," I said.

"It has to be you," the priestess said gently. "You're the anchor. The bond is the only chain strong enough left."

I stood up slowly.

"Then take mine."

Selene's eyes snapped open.

"No." Her voice was raw, barely human. "Elara, no."

I knelt beside her again, cupped her face.

"I'm tired of watching you carry monsters alone," I said. "Let me carry this one."

Tears cut clean tracks through the blood on her cheeks.

"You'll be trapped," she whispered. "Forever. Conscious. Feeling it eat and eat and never dying."

"I know."

"I'll have to live without you."

"You'll live," I said. "That's enough."

She kissed me like she was trying to crawl inside my skin and stay there.

The priestess began chanting in Latin, voice steady.

The key started to glow.

I felt the pull immediately-gentle at first, then stronger. Like gravity made of teeth.

Selene clung to me, sobbing into my neck.

"I love you," she said. "I've loved you since we were fourteen and you gave me your hoodie because I was cold. I was just too scared to say it."

"I know," I whispered. "I love you too. Always."

The key burned white-hot.

The black moon outside pulsed, eager.

I closed my eyes.

And then the church doors exploded inward.

Nyx stood in the doorway, coat flapping in a wind that wasn't there, blind face tilted toward the altar.

"Wrong," she rasped. "Both of you. Wrong."

She walked forward, pigeons circling her head like a halo made of knives.

"There is another way," she said. "One the Covenant never told you. One I discovered too late."

She knelt beside Selene, pressed a scarred hand to the mouth-mark on her chest.

"The Hunger was never meant to be caged," Nyx said. "It was meant to be balanced."

She looked at me-or through me, it was hard to tell.

"Two souls," she said. "One vessel, one anchor. Bound so tightly neither can exist without the other. Love as the lock. Love as the key."

She smiled, and it was the saddest thing I'd ever seen.

"I tried to do it alone," she said. "That's why I failed."

The priestess stopped chanting.

Nyx reached up and tore her own face off.

Not metaphorically.

Her skin peeled away like paper, revealing raw moonlight underneath-pure, blinding, beautiful.

She offered it to us.

"Take it," she said. "Wear me. Both of you. Let me be the third strand in your bond."

Selene stared, horrified.

"You'll die," I said.

"I've been dead for three hundred years," Nyx said. "This is just... retirement."

She looked at Selene.

"You were always my favorite descendant, little vessel. Even when you hated me."

Selene's eyes filled.

"Nyx," she whispered. "Grandmother."

Nyx smiled with no mouth.

"Do it," she said. "Before the moon eats the world."

The priestess didn't wait.

She slammed the glowing key into Nyx's offered moonlight-skin.

Light exploded.

I felt it hit us like a supernova-Nyx's essence, her power, her sacrifice-pouring into the bond, weaving between us, through us, around us.

The mouth on Selene's chest closed.

The black veins retreated.

The mark on my collarbone flared once-painful, perfect-and settled into a new shape.

Three drops now.

Silver. Black. White.

The bond sang.

Not a chain.

A circle.

Eternal.

Unbreakable.

Outside, the black moon shuddered.

Shrank.

Turned silver again.

And set.

Properly this time.

Dawn broke-real dawn, pink and gold and human.

The wolves in the streets collapsed, shifted back, wept.

The Hollow Moon was caged again.

Not in one soul.

In three.

Nyx's body dissolved into light, into pigeons, into wind.

But her voice lingered, soft as a lullaby:

Live, my girls.

Love.

Be happy.

Selene and I stayed on the altar until the sun was high, holding each other, crying, laughing, kissing like we'd invented it.

The priestess left us a blanket and a bottle of holy wine.

We drank it straight from the bottle.

Eventually we walked out into the ruined city.

People stared.

Some bowed.

Some ran.

We didn't care.

We had twenty-four hours before the next new moon.

We had a world to rebuild.

We had each other.

And somewhere, deep inside the bond, Nyx's laughter echoed-warm, approving, eternal.

The Hunger slept.

For now.

But we were awake.

And we were finally, truly, free.