The Soul under Moonlight

Layla's POV

I was dreaming of running through moonlit forests when something cold and wet hit my face.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

I bolted upright, sputtering and wiping water from my eyes. My best friend Maya Reed stood at my bedside, empty cup in hand, green eyes sparkling with mischief. Her red curls seemed to defy gravity this morning, creating a wild halo around her freckled face.

"Was that necessary?" I groaned, falling back against my pillows.

"Absolutely." Maya plopped onto my bed, bouncing with characteristic energy. "It's almost seven, hurry up or we'll be late."

I pulled the blanket over my head. "Five more minutes."

"Nope!" She tugged the blanket away. "Get up, or I'll use my magic to send you straight to the ​​Morban!"

I peeked out with one eye. "You can't even levitate a pencil."

"Not yet," she corrected, wiggling her fingers mysteriously. "Mom says my magic might just be dormant. Late bloomers run in our family."

I snorted, finally sitting up. "You've been a 'late bloomer' for eighteen years."

Maya tossed a pillow at me, which I easily caught. That was our relationship in a nutshell—her boundless enthusiasm against my practical nature, her playfulness drawing me out of my shell time and again.

"Three days until your big ceremony," she sang, dancing around my room and picking up clothes from the floor. She tossed a blue sweater and jeans onto the bed. "Wear these—they bring out your eyes."

"It's just school," I protested, but I reached for the clothes anyway. Maya had been my personal stylist since we were seven, and I'd learned to trust her judgment.

"Just school?" She gasped in mock horror. "Three days before your eighteenth birthday? When any moment your wolf might sense her mate? Every day matters now, Layla Blackwood!"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the flutter of nervous excitement in my stomach. In three days, the Moon Goddess would officially reveal my mate—if I had one at all.

"What if she doesn't choose anyone for me?" I asked quietly, voicing the fear that had kept me awake most nights lately.

Maya's expression softened. She sat beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "She will. You're too special not to have a mate."

The certainty in her voice was comforting, even if I didn't share it. That was Maya—believing in magic and fate with her whole heart.

"Now hurry up," she said, bouncing back to her feet. "Your mom made blueberry pancakes, and I'm starving!"

Twenty minutes later, we were walking through Pine Hollow territory toward the community school. The morning air carried the scent of pine needles and wildflowers, with a hint of the smoky fires from the pack's central hearth.

Our territory wasn't large, but it was beautiful—rolling woodlands bordered by a silver-blue river that gave our region its name.

Maya skipped alongside me, occasionally twirling just for the joy of feeling her dress swirl around her legs. She'd woven yellow flowers into her red curls this morning, making her look like some woodland sprite from human fairy tales.

"Do you think Professor Winters will talk about dragons today?" she asked, eyes bright with anticipation. "Mom says they're not really extinct, just hiding."

I laughed. "Your mom says a lot of things to keep you entertained."

"Not true!" She stuck out her tongue. "She showed me a scale once—all shimmery and hard as metal. Said a trader brought it from the Northern Territories."

"Probably just a fancy rock," I teased.

Maya huffed dramatically. "You wolves have no imagination. Just because you can turn into animals doesn't mean you have to be so... so literal about everything else."

We arrived at the school building—a large structure of stone and timber at the center of our territory. The courtyard was already filled with students, conversations dropping to whispers as we passed. Three days before an eighteenth birthday, every unmated wolf became the subject of intense speculation.

"They're staring again," I muttered.

Maya linked her arm through mine. "Let them stare. Maybe your mate is watching right now, feeling the first tugs of the bond."

The thought sent a strange shiver down my spine.

Professor Winters was already writing on the blackboard when we slipped into the classroom. His silver-streaked beard and wire-rimmed glasses gave him the appearance of a wise elder, though he couldn't be much older than forty.

"Cutting it close, ladies," he commented without turning around.

"Sorry, Professor," we chorused, sliding into our seats.

As he began his lecture on world geography and species distribution, I found my attention wandering. My gaze drifted to the window, where I could see a slice of blue sky between the oak branches.

A folded paper appeared on my desk. I glanced at Maya, who nodded toward it with a conspiratorial smile.

I carefully unfolded it beneath my desk: Bored already? Watch this!

Before I could wonder what she meant, Maya raised her hand. "Professor Winters, is it true that some witches in the Eastern Covens can predict who a wolf's mate will be before the ceremony?"

Several heads turned our way. Professor Winters stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"There are such claims, Miss Reed, though I've never seen evidence of their accuracy. The mate bond is sacred to werewolves—a gift from the Moon Goddess herself. Most witches respect that mystery."

Maya nodded seriously. "Of course. Just curious."

She shot me a quick wink when the professor turned back to the board. I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. Maya knew exactly how to make any class more interesting.

"As I was saying," Professor Winters continued, "our world is divided between four main species. Humans occupy primarily coastal regions and plains, where they've built their cities and farms. They remain largely unaware of the supernatural world, believing wolves and witches to be mere legends."

He pointed to the large map hanging on the wall. "Werewolves control most forested and mountainous territories, organized into packs of varying sizes. Our pack, Pine Hollow, is considered medium-sized, located here in the southeastern woodlands."

His finger moved to the center of the map, indicating a massive territory shaded in silver. "At the heart of the continent lies Center Pack, ruled by the Silverblood royal family. As descendants of the First Wolf, they maintain peace among all packs, hosting the Alpha Summit every decade where important matters affecting all territories are discussed."

"Witches," Professor Winters continued, nodding toward Maya, "live among both humans and werewolves, organized into covens based on magical specialties rather than territories. And dragons..." He paused, eyes twinkling. "Well, dragons are considered extinct, though legends persist of sightings in the far northern mountains."

Maya shot me a triumphant look. I pretended not to notice.

Another note appeared on my desk: See? Even Professor W believes in dragons!

I wrote back: He said "legends" - not the same as proof.

As the professor droned on about territorial boundaries and trade routes, my attention drifted toward the middle of the classroom, where Ethan Gray sat quietly taking notes.

Unlike most Alpha's children, who flaunted their status and expected special treatment, Ethan carried himself with a gentle humility that was rare in packs. His father was our Alpha, yet Ethan never used that position to intimidate others or demand respect.

I'd always admired that about him—how he could be born into power yet remain so approachable. When younger wolves needed help with training, Ethan was often the first to offer guidance. When celebrations required preparation, he worked alongside everyone else without complaint. It was refreshing in a world where status usually determined behavior.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of classes and pack duties. By late afternoon, Maya and I had escaped to our favorite spot by Silver Creek, a quiet clearing where the water formed a shallow pool perfect for dangling our feet.

"Freedom!" Maya declared, kicking off her sandals and plunging her feet into the cool water. "I thought school would never end today."

I laughed, joining her at the water's edge. "You say that every day."

"Because it's true every day," she countered, splashing water at me playfully.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, turning the creek water to liquid gold. In moments like these, the pressures of pack expectations and upcoming ceremonies seemed distant and unimportant.

Maya leaned back on her hands, tilting her face toward the patches of sky visible through the leaves. A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she turned to me, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I have a secret to tell you."