The blood moon glowed crimson in the sky, casting its eerie light over the summit. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, the ground beneath the Moon Tree trembling with an unspoken warning.
Selene stood on the cliffs overlooking the valley, the winds tugging at her dark cloak. Her silver eyes were focused, unmoving, as the wind carried the scent of something foreign—faint, but unmistakable.
War.
Behind her, the camp was already stirring.
Korren arrived first, grim-faced, his armor strapped tight. "Scouts report movement in the southeast. Ironclaw banners. Three columns."
Saria followed close behind, her eyes wide. "I sense Abyssborn among them. The air is… wrong."
Jace strode up, sword at his back, his expression cold. "It's a feint. They're trying to drive us into a trap. Damien thinks we'll rush to defend the border again."
Selene turned to them.
"Then we don't defend. We attack."
The war table was littered with hastily drawn maps and notes from the night's ambush.
Selene tapped a mountain pass marked in red ink.
"This is the Ember Ravine. Steep cliffs, narrow pathways. If they push their forces through here, we collapse the pass behind them."
Korren grinned. "Trap the trapper. I like it."
"But we'll need to bait them into the ravine," Jace said. "That means someone has to lead them in."
"I'll go," Daemon said, stepping from the shadows. "I've run those mountains before. I can vanish and reappear where they least expect it."
Selene hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Daemon gave a sharp nod. "Let me remind them why the Blackwood name is feared."
Selene nodded. "Then we move before nightfall."
The army mobilized.
For the first time in generations, packs that once warred with each other now stood side by side—Bloodfang warriors, Nightmist spellcasters, Moon Priestesses, and the remnants of the Lost Clans, united beneath one banner.
Selene's banner.
The crescent moon and flame—symbol of rebirth and vengeance.
The Alpha Queen led from the front, riding a midnight-black steed, her silver hair braided with strands of wolf fur and moonstone.
Her eyes burned with purpose.
At Ember Ravine, the plan unfolded.
Daemon and a small team descended the opposite ridge, laying false trail markers, lighting torches, and leaving behind broken gear and shattered crates to create the illusion of a retreating force.
Sure enough, Ironclaw scouts found the scene and reported back.
Within the hour, Damien's forces advanced into the ravine.
Dozens of foot soldiers, Shadow Fang mercenaries, and Abyssborn hybrids marched straight into the jaws of Selene's trap.
Hidden on the high cliffs above, Selene watched.
Saria stood beside her, chanting softly. Runes etched into the rocks below began to glow.
"When I give the signal," Selene whispered, "you collapse the pass."
Korren, positioned with Bloodfang archers on the far ridge, held up his fist.
The enemy was halfway through the ravine.
"Now," Selene commanded.
Saria raised her hands, her voice echoing through the mountains.
Light erupted from the runes.
The earth shook.
Massive boulders broke free, tumbling down the narrow ravine in a thunderous cascade.
Cries of confusion and terror rose from below.
Ironclaw soldiers scattered.
But it was too late.
The rocks sealed the ravine's mouth, trapping Damien's vanguard force inside.
Selene led the charge.
Her wolf form burst forth, silver and blazing, as she leapt into the fray from the cliffside with Moonfire drawn.
Her warriors followed.
A battle ignited within the ravine—fierce, bloody, and unrelenting.
The Shadow Fang fought like demons, but Selene's forces fought with purpose.
For unity.
For survival.
For vengeance.
Korren's blade cut through armored mercenaries.
Saria's spells flared like stars falling from the heavens.
Jace moved through the battlefield like a phantom, every strike lethal.
And Selene—Selene was a storm.
Moonfire danced in her grip, slicing through Abyssborn flesh, leaving trails of silver fire in its wake.
Her howl rose high above the clash of steel, a call that sent shivers through friend and foe alike.
She was no longer the hunted.
She was the huntress.
By the time the dust settled, the ravine floor was soaked in blood, the enemy broken.
Selene stood among the fallen, chest heaving, eyes sharp.
No fear.
No mercy.
Just resolve.
Korren approached, bloodied but grinning. "They won't recover from this."
Jace sheathed his blade. "This will send a message."
Selene looked to the sky, where the blood moon had begun to fade into silver.
"The Queen doesn't run," she said.
"She fights."
Far from the battlefield, in his obsidian war room, Damien watched the aftermath unfold in the scrying pool, his jaw clenched.
"She outmaneuvered us," he muttered.
Elira stood beside him, arms crossed. "She's becoming more than just a leader."
"She's becoming a symbol," Damien growled. "And symbols are harder to kill."
He turned from the pool, eyes cold.
"Then it's time we break the symbol."