AN:
Hello! I hope you enjoy this (looooooong) chapter. Above is a beautiful cover made by ToniCastellani <3

The blood spilling down her neck felt different now that her life no longer belonged to the sunrise. Instead of an annoying sting, the wound morphed into a real threat. There was no promise that she would die at the end of the night. There was no reason to let herself bleed until her limbs turned weak and her vision blurred.

"What do you mean she is not dying tonight?" Petyr asked. He pressed a damp rag against the back of her skull. She welcomed the sudden rush of cold water, it forced Marjorie to ground herself in the moment.

"With the Blood Moon, the night will not end until the next summer solstice," Fenris replied. He shooed Petyr away with a wave of his hand. The cold rag on her head disappeared. A rush of water replaced the pressure, it seemed as though Fenris was perpetually ready to lick her wounds clean. "In Beyond, they call it the Long Night. It will not take your life, Marjorie, at least, not yet."

Petyr smiled until his face turned a delighted flushed pink. She attempted to return his blinding, white grin. But a sick pit still ate away inside her stomach.

Her life wasn't promised. Her death was simply put on hold.

"I fear you misunderstand me, Woodsman." Fenris pressed the rag back in place, applying an almost unbearable tight pressure to her skull. In his other hand, he revealed an opened jar of Devilshair.

Marjorie turned sick at the sight of it. How useless it had been to her Grandmother.

"With the Long Night, no sun comes. No harvest will be sowed. Your animals will die. People are not meant to live in this darkness." Fenris scooped a hand into the jar and returned with both of his fingers covered in the red plant. He pressed the red paste into her skin.

She breathed out through her nose. The exhaling air blistered across the delicate skin of her cupid's bow, for a moment, she mistook it for rising steam. Pain came with Devilshair. Then, a numbing clarity.

"There," Fenris whispered in her ear. "Does it feel better now?"

She nodded. Before she could offer him thanks, a sharp laugh came from Petyr.

"Is that all it takes to frighten the big bad Wolf?" the Woodsman asked. A smirk appeared on his pink lips. "You are scared of a simple fortnight of darkness?"

"No, you misunderstood me, boy," Fenris whispered. Sometimes Marjorie forgot Fenris only reached Petyr's brow. For some reason, when he stood with cool anger simmering quietly beneath his perfect features, he appeared bigger. "I am not people. I am a Wolf. The night is where creatures like me thrive."

"Creatures like..." Marjorie hesitated before she continued. "Creatures like Vivian?"

He smiled.

"You are clever," he said. "And you are unfortunately right."

"I thought you said the witch was no threat." Petyr huffed out an angry breath.

"I fear that has always been something humans do not understand," Fenris replied. "Magick is always fickle. There are ways to bend the world to your will. Magick has a natural palladium to ensure every spell, curse, and creature has a limit. When the night comes, Magick strengthens. When the sun rises, it wanes."

"And with the Blood Moon, the night stays," Marjorie said. "What happens without the sun, Fenris?"

"Magick becomes no longer fickle," he whispered. "It becomes limitless."

But concern settled in the furrow of his brow. He did not watch Marjorie, instead, he allowed his gaze to pull toward the red moon above.

"There is something you are not telling us, Fenris." She pressed her palm against his warm skin in hopes of bringing his attention back to her. "What are you hiding?"

"If I tell you who I am, will you forgive me?" he pleaded in a weak voice. His hand reached over hers, blanketing it with a soft touch. It should be impossible for a Wolf to be so tender.

"Depending on what you are going to say, this could end either way for you," Petyr said from the corner. "But as of this moment, I could plant an axe in your temple or you could stop keeping secrets from us."

"Petyr," she hissed at the Woodsman. "He will be not doing either of those. Fenris, please."

The Wolf shut his eyes and breathed through the thin line between his parted lips. He pressed his free hand to his face, it was still covered in Marjorie's drying red blood. He nodded without looking up.

* * *

Like each sunrise before, every morning echoed with the ringing of the bell from the Temple. The clear chimes rolled over the open hills, reminding all to rise with the music and to cleanse from the day before. The bells echoed in long succession, until the sound steadily decreased to nothing more than what could be mistaken as a low whistling wind.

With dark eyes still weighed down by drowsiness, Fenris stared at the hand-painted ceiling of his bedroom. This was one of the few skills that followed him from his childhood. His royal upbringing always found a way to squirm in through even the tiniest of holes in his new, modest life as a Greenkeeper for the Temple and all of its Priestesses. 

His gaze traced the outline of a golden crescent moon, the first illumination he completed at thirteen. It reminded him of his mother, bright and beautiful and faceless. He was too young to remember the contours of her face or the exact color of her eyes. Much of his life was like that—a collection of the same muted, blurred painting. Nothing stood out to the man aside for the few, unwelcome splotches of bright, crimson red.

A knock on his door pulled him away from the moon. The fist frantically slammed against the wood. The volume of the knocking climbed louder than the fading tintinnabulation of the morning bell.

"Greenkeeper!" The familiar voice of a woman spoke from the other side of the door. "Fenris, let me in please!"

It was Vivian, a promising Priestess, on her way to Highhood if she continued to properly cultivate her magick. She arrived years before him, meaning she was his senior not only by age, but skill. By the hierarchy of the Temple, whatever she asked of him was meant to be obeyed.

"What is it you need so early?" Fenris asked from his bed. He was still in night robes, which meant it was indecent for Vivian to enter.

"Fenris, friend, I must request that you let me in."

It was unusual for a Priestess of her ranking to find herself in the corridors of the Greenkeepers, especially Vivian, who lived by the straight and narrow rules of the Temple.

Fenris found her actions more amusing than strange. He rose from his place on the hay-filled mattress and grabbed his gold-colored robe from where it lay at the end of his bed. He slipped the silk fabric over his broad shoulders and tied the knot of the belt tight around his thin waist.

Then, he opened his door.

The Priestess entered the room in a blur of red fabric. She wore the color of crimson, reserved only for those of her rank. Over her shoulder and waist, a thick strip of white fabric carried a heavy mound, most likely a makeshift bag for her personal belongings. Her long dark hair spilled over her chest and hung all the way to the tops of her thighs. This was unlike a woman of her title, who was expected to take great care of her appearance. Most times, Priestesses plaited their hair alongside their skull and piled it high on their head.

"You must hide me, Fenris," Vivian demanded. She slammed the door shut and brought her pale fingers down in one swift movement. The lock slid into place. "I have never begged a day in my life. But now, I ask you to show me kindness in this moment. Although you have no reason to, all I have ever done is keep you at arm's length."

Her hand came to rest on his jaw, tender in a way he could not place. Like this, the difference of their age was obvious. The beginnings of crow's feet formed at the edge of her almond-shaped eyes, and a tiny line between her brows showed steady frustration through the years. He was not quite a man yet, still growing into his broad shoulders and long limbs. He had not lived long enough to earn imperfections.

"Why do you hide, Vivian?" Fenris asked the strange woman. "Is it a game? Hide and seek?" He remembered the days he spent before all the blood came, hiding and running from the soft hands of his friends, the children of nobles. He wondered now if they were dead, too.

He opened up the tiny wooden window of his door and peered down into the empty corridor. No Priestess searched outside for her fellow sister. Instead, an eerie silence filled the air with uneasy tension.

"No." Her voice was weighed down with guilt. "No, Fenris. Please, do not make me confess to you. I am afraid if I admit my sins... you will want me to see me dead like the others." She pressed her delicate hand onto the temples of her forehead. Frustration festered through her movements, erasing any kind of composure she pretended to uphold. 

"You think little of me then," Fenris said. "Wishing death for others does nothing but decay the heart." He moved from his door toward his bedroom window, it showed every inch of the courtyard and the gardens he was entrusted to keep alive and nurtured.

"No, do not look." Vivian followed his movements in attempt to keep the window out of his view.

It was easy to move out of the woman's way. With one long sidestep, he easily shot past Vivian and walked to where his curtains were drawn tight. He disregarded Vivian's tight hold on the collar of his robe. He took the silk in his hands and ripped the curtains away, revealing the early morning below. White, harsh light flooded into the room, chasing all darkness out.

Vivian pleaded something, but he ignored her begging words. A ringing in his ears took over his senses. 

Something was wrong in the courtyard below. Although the day had just begun, guards dressed in thick black cloaks flooded every inch of the granite pathways. Their heavy, armored boots stomped through delicate flora, and their swords jabbed into thistle bushes and shrubbery Fenris had spent hours carefully manicuring. 

The men were a black sea of ravens, drowning out Fenris's gardens with the harshness of their silver blades. But beneath all the velvet black and gleaming green, a red flag flew above each squadron, revealing the true reason behind their carnage.

Dark Magick.

"What did you do?" Fenris asked in a whisper.

"You misunderstand," Vivian said. "I did nothing wrong."

"Then why did you come here, seeking refuge in my private corridor?"

Vivian reached her hand into the folds of her white sash. Her eyes, now hardened, remained on Fenris. He should be scared. The woman was a Priestess. She not only knew of Magick, she yielded it.

Once, he was a prince. He possessed no fears. He knew only of the sweetness of life. His existence was once sustained by the sweet flesh of ripen fruits and warm bread. Before he ran, he was meant to inherit kingdoms and seas and women and men. Now, he spent his days in the rich soil and listened to the earth's humble heartbeat.

When she pulled her hand out of her cloak, would he join the dirt of his gardens? Would he fertilize the next generation of Sungrass, Motherflower and Devilhair with the meat of his body and the iron in his bones?

He made a decision long ago. He was born a prince. But he would not die one.

"If I tell you the truth, will you promise not to kill me?" She asked.

He did not have to hesitate. He had seen so much death in his life that his stomach turned at the thought of blood, of being the one to draw it. "I promise, Vivian."

A cry split through the air.

But not from Fenris.

And not from Vivian.

In her gentle grasp, an infant no bigger than the size of Fenris's hands pressed together appeared. A small tuft of feather-soft black curls stuck against its chubby face. The child's eyes remained shut, although its pink mouth stretched with a loud, ugly scream. It couldn't be older than a few hours. 

"I don't understand." Fenris took a step back, afraid one wrong move would hurt the tiny thing. "Is it yours?"

She nodded, not looking up. Vivian's full attention remained on the child. Her index finger pressed on the petal-soft surface of the child's mouth, shushing its muddled cries. She hummed sweet, love notes in its little pink ears, the same way Fenris imagined all doting mothers did. 

"But how, Vivian?" Fenris whispered. He tried to keep the horror out of his voice.

The night before, Vivian stripped down to her thin, linen underclothes and partook in the full moon sacrifice of a raven. Her slender body had been revealed in the moonlight. When the bird's blood permeated the thin fabric, the flatness of her stomach was revealed.

Even now, underneath all the fabric she wore, it would be impossible to conceal the supple roundness that came with a newborn.

"Vivian, did you use dark magick?" Fenris whispered.

He took her silence as answer enough.

"They will kill you," he replied darkly. "And they will kill that child."

Vivian finally raised her eyes from the child to Fenris. There was a cool smile on her pretty face. Although it appeared kind, something terrifying lurked beneath the soft contours of her red cheeks. A promise in her dark, almond-shaped eyes.

"I know that Fenris," Vivian said. "That is why you will help me. When the moon rises, the first day of the Blood Moon will begin. You will help me return her to what she once was."

"What was she other than dead, Vivian?"

"My daughter," she whispered.

"I will never help you. I cannot, I am bound by my promise to serve only the Temple."

"Do you think I don't know what you are? What we are? Prince Fenris, you are like me—you are wild."

Shame curled into his body. If she knew who he was, then she knew what he did to deserve his own self-inflicted banishment.

"The Temple means nothing when you have this," she tightened her hand on the child's clenching fist.

The silk curtains drew closed as if two hands snapped them shut, sealing away all light to create a suffocating, velvet darkness. In all the blackness, Fenris could decipher only the two pairs of gleaming eyes, inky black and wide. In that moment, it was as though two wolves watched him in a moonless night.

"She is of dark magick," Fenris whispered. His hands reached blindly behind him, in search for any kind of item that could double as a makeshift weapon. His clumsy fingers only found his beakers, where he propagated juvenile seedlings. They unceremoniously crashed to the ground, lighting the room up with the ear-bending shatter of glass and soil.

Five, thin fingers wrapped around his wrist, capturing him by the skin like a searing hot brand. He attempted to rip away from the grasp but found Vivian's hold impossibly strong for a woman her size.

Her lips curled into a grin, allowing her bone-white teeth to shine in the darkness. Like this, Fenris swore her smile sharpened and each tooth grew longer, like a wolf shifting with the night.

"You are wrong, Fenris," she growled. "My daughter is dark magick."

"No!" Fenris tried to shout but found that no noise escaped him. He screamed louder this time, until his throat scraped raw from the force. The dark reached into every orifice of his body, stealing his sight and voice. Even his limbs turned numb, as if the bitter coldness of her small hands froze his ability to feel and touch.  

"Tonight is the Blood Moon, boy," she whispered in a voice too sweet to match the sharpness of her teeth. "I need sacrifice. Human sacrifices. You will do just fine."

AN:

Ahhh! Almost to the Wattys! I hope you guys are enjoying this! I have had a truly hard time getting this out here and motivating myself to complete it-- so much stress from every single aspect of life.

Please vote and tell me what you think!