Chapter 3 The Kingdom of Claws

The gates of Araksa opened with a groan.

Rayne flinched as cold light spilled across her face. With a harsh command, the wagon jolted to a stop. She was unable to identify the shouter, but the voice was strong and deep.

The soldier standing next to her unchained the wall.

Putting further shackles on her wrists, he ordered, "Don't move till I tell you."

Rayne's hands were raw from the iron cuffs. Her shoulders ached. Her eyes hurt from sleep deprivation, and her mouth was dry. It had been at least two days of travel. She had lost track of time somewhere between the frozen mountains and the thick forests.

As the prison cart's door creaked open, she remained silent.

Snowflakes danced in the air outside.

She descended into a black stone courtyard with tall walls enclosing it. Araksa wasn't a castle, it was a fortress. Everything was hard and cold. Sharp towers rose like claws against the sky. And along the edges of the courtyard, guards stood in tight formation.

They weren't human.

Some were fully shifted, with fur and fangs and glowing eyes. Others were halfway, like the ones who had captured her. All of them wore the same black armor with the silver crescent insignia.

Their eyes followed her.

Some with curiosity. Others with clear hatred.

Rayne didn't dare meet their gaze.

"Move," the soldier at her side said.

They pushed her forward. The doors behind her slammed shut with a deep, final sound.

She was inside.

Inside the Kingdom of Claws.

They led her through dark corridors, past rows of weapons and heavy doors. The air smelled of blood, steel, and old stone. She passed cages-real cages with bones still lying inside. She passed other prisoners too. Some were silent. Some wept. A few bared their teeth as she walked by, their eyes glowing gold.

She saw no kindness here. No light. Only shadow and cold.

At last, they reached a wide hall lined with black pillars. It was warmer here, but not in a comforting way. The warmth came from the torches-large ones that burned with silver flames.

The guards pulled her to a stop in the center of the room.

Rayne's chains clinked loudly in the silence.

Then came the growl.

Low. Deep. Animal.

From the floor, a huge throne of dark stone rose from the far end of the hall. On it sat a man. No-something more. His body was broad, his presence heavy like a storm cloud. He wore silver and black, and his eyes glowed the way a predator's might.

He leaned forward.

"So," he said slowly. "This is the girl who burned the monastery."

"I didn't burn anything," Rayne whispered.

The man's smile was sharp. "But you shifted under the full moon, didn't you?"

Rayne said nothing. She was shaking again.

The guards shoved her to her knees.

"Her scent changed," said one. "She has Moonblood in her."

"I don't even know what that means!" Rayne cried. "I never asked for this!"

The man on the throne stood. His steps echoed as he descended from the dais.

As he got to her, he knelt down to meet her face.

"You don't know?" he said again, quietly.

Rayne gave him a look. He smelled like iron and smoke.

"I was raised by monks," she said. "They never told me anything. I lived a quiet life. I was normal."

"No," he said. "You were never normal."

She looked away.

"Do you know what happens to Moonbloods who lose control?" he asked.

She didn't answer.

"They die. Or they're hunted. Or worse-they're used."

He stood again. "You are a threat, girl. A weapon waiting to explode. You brought death to your own doorstep. Whether by choice or not... it doesn't matter."

"Please," Rayne begged, "I'm not a soldier. I'm not like you. The rest of the room was drowned out by the sound of her heartbeat. Just let me go. I'll disappear. I won't hurt anyone."

There was a pause.

Then laughter-cold, bitter laughter.

"You think you can just walk away from this?" he said. "You carry ancient blood in your veins. You're part of something bigger now. You don't get to choose."

"I didn't ask to be part of anything!"

His eyes narrowed. "No. But the moon chose you. And that means you belong to us now."

Rayne felt her stomach twist.

"This is a mistake," she said.

The man turned his back on her. "Take her to the holding chambers. The Council will decide what to do with her tomorrow."

"But..."

"Move," barked the guard.

The chambers were deep beneath Araksa.

They weren't like the wagon. These cells were colder, quieter, lined with silver-threaded stone. Silver burned her skin if she got too close to the walls. Without saying a word, the guards shut her inside and departed.

Arms encircling her knees, Rayne sat in the corner.

The silence was heavy. Her thoughts were louder.

What was she? What was this place? Why did they call her Moonblood? Why did everyone look at her like she was dangerous?

She thought of the fire.

The blood.

The monk's face before the flames took him.

Her breath hitched.

She wanted to scream. To cry. But something inside her was locked tight. She was unable to untie it, like a knot in her chest.

She felt very exhausted.

So alone.

Then...

A voice from the next cell.

"You're the new one?"

Rayne lifted her head.

A soft, female voice. Calm.

"Yes," Rayne muttered.

"What is your name?"

"...Rayne."

A pause.

"I'm Lira," said the voice. "You smell like fear."

Rayne blinked. "Pardon me?"

"It's not a negative thing. Just... you're not like the others."

"Why are you here?"

"I bit a general," Lira said. "He deserved it."

Rayne almost smiled. Almost.

Lira's voice softened. "You shifted under the full moon?"

Rayne hesitated. Then nodded, even though no one could see.

"Yes."

"Then it's true. The prophecy's changing."

Rayne frowned. "What prophecy?"

But Lira didn't answer.

Silence fell again.

Rayne leaned her head against the cold stone wall.

She closed her eyes.

Her chains felt heavier now. Her body still hurt. But worse than all of that was the feeling that something inside her was unraveling.

Like she had stepped through a door she couldn't close again.

And on the other side... was the monster everyone feared.