The wind howled through the mountains as Damian climbed the narrow path, his coat whipping around him. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, uneasy but alert. This was no place for mortals—or even immortals like him—to walk without caution.
At the end of the path stood a ruined temple carved into the cliffside, older than any known structure on the continent. The stones whispered secrets, and the air trembled with unseen power.
He had not come here in centuries.
She was waiting.
He stepped through the stone arch, darkness curling around his boots like smoke. Candles flickered to life on their own, revealing intricate runes and symbols that seemed to pulse with life.
A voice, ancient and melodic, echoed from within.
"Damian Nightborne… the Alpha who carries the blood of kings and the sins of beasts. You seek what you once rejected."
Damian paused. "I didn't come here for riddles, Elora."
A woman stepped from the shadows. She was ethereal—neither young nor old—with hair the color of the moon and eyes that shimmered gold and violet at once. Robes of woven starlight clung to her body like mist.
Elora, the Oracle of the Hollow Moon. A being neither wolf nor human. She belonged to the realm between—Seer, Sorceress, Immortal.
"You came for answers," she said, walking around him. "And perhaps... permission to wage war."
"I need to know what's coming. The child. The prophecy. The old packs stirring. I need to protect her." His voice softened, almost desperate. "I need to protect Luna."
Elora smiled faintly. "The stars whisper of her. The girl who carries both light and ruin. A child of human sorrow and ancient power. Do you love her, Alpha?"
Damian clenched his fists. "What does that have to do with—"
"Everything," she cut in. "Love is the only force older than power. And love is what your enemies will seek to destroy."
He looked away, jaw tight.
"There is one who already hunts her," Elora continued. "A shadow that does not belong to this world. He follows the scent of prophecy… and her blood. You will need more than strength to stop him. You will need allies. Old magic. And a heart not afraid to break."
Damian turned back to her, eyes burning. "Tell me what I must do."
Elora moved to a small, stone pedestal and placed her hand on it. A radiant map burst into the air, swirling with runes and symbols. She pointed to a mountain range cloaked in mist.
"Find the Gate of Ash. Inside lies the Crescent Pact. Wolves who swore allegiance to no Alpha. They know the old ways… and the true name of the one who hunts your bloodline. But beware. They do not forgive."
"And if they try to stop me?"
Elora's golden eyes glowed. "Then become what you were born to be, Damian. Not just the Alpha of your bloodline. But the storm that awakens the wild."
---
The Mark of Protection (Luna and the Elders)
Luna sat quietly in the circular hall, her hands folded in her lap as the flickering torchlight danced across the worn stone walls. The elders—five in total—watched her with unreadable expressions. Julian stood at the far side, arms crossed, protective yet respectful of the space.
"Do you understand what you carry, child?" asked the eldest of them, a woman named Elder Myra, her skin like crinkled parchment, her eyes still bright with ancient wisdom.
Luna nodded slowly. "I… I know he's not human. And I know my baby isn't either."
A ripple of murmurs spread across the circle, but Elder Myra raised a hand for silence.
"You carry the blood of the First Line—the Alpha of all bloodlines. It is no small thing. Forces greater than you or I will seek that child. Not for love. Not for mercy."
Luna swallowed hard, her fingers tightening over her stomach protectively.
Another elder, a broad-shouldered man with silver dreadlocks named Cael, stepped forward and held out a small, dark object wrapped in a silken cloth.
Luna hesitated before taking it. Unwrapping it slowly, she uncovered a dark stone pendant—iridescent, rough around the edges, with faint crimson veins pulsing faintly beneath the surface. It radiated warmth, but also something… ancient.
"What is it?" she whispered.
"It is called the Blood Charm," Cael said. "Forged in the old world, before the packs fell into greed and power-lust. It's bound to your energy now. As long as you wear it, you are under our protection."
Julian moved closer. "But it's more than that."
Elder Myra nodded. "If the day comes when you are cornered… when there's no one to call… drop your blood on the stone."
"Your blood will awaken it," another elder added, voice grave. "It will find you. It will fight for you. But only once."
Luna blinked. "What do you mean… only once?"
Cael leaned in. "The stone is old magic. Sacred. It will give everything to protect you—everything. But after that, it will die."
She clutched the pendant tightly, the weight of its meaning settling over her like a cloak. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because your child may be the one who restores the balance," Myra replied. "Or… the one who ends it all. And because your father once saved our lives. He was a man of great heart and loyalty. We owe him."
Julian stepped forward then, looking at her with gentler eyes. "You're not alone, Luna. Not anymore."
Luna nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thank you. I'll do whatever it takes to protect my baby."
Elder Myra smiled faintly, her eyes softening. "You already are."
---