Lucien Redfang watched the moonrise from the shadows of the Witherwood, a single raven circling overhead like it had nowhere else to haunt.
The blood moon cast its red light across his bare chest as he leaned against a tree older than most gods.
He'd seen the flare of power from the Ridge hours ago.
He knew what it meant.
The bond had been sealed.
Kael had marked her—and lived.
Lucien's jaw clenched.
Not because he wanted her for love.
But because he knew what her bloodline truly held.
⸻
Five years ago, he'd seen the girl in chains.
A trembling, silent thing dragged from the sanctuary like she was nothing. But even then—even as Kael's father ordered her mother's death and the council whispered curses—Lucien felt it.
Not fate. Not lust.
Power.
Raw and ancient.
Moonblood.
The last of it.
The only bloodline strong enough to break or restore the goddess's favor.
And Kael had wasted her.
Lucien never forgot.
He never forgave.
⸻
In the present, a figure stepped from the shadows—one of his spies, cloaked in Redfang black, eyes glowing faint red from recent shifting.
"She marked him," the scout said. "Freely. The curse is lifted."
Lucien didn't react.
He ran a thumb across his jaw, watching the Ridge from afar.
"She has no idea what she carries, does she?"
The scout hesitated. "You mean the prophecy?"
"No," Lucien murmured. "The weapon."
The Moonblood line wasn't just blessed—it was cursed in its own right.
One drop of blood could calm madness.
But too much?
It could awaken gods that even Lira feared.
⸻
Lucien turned to the scout.
"Send word to the Bone Circle," he said. "Tell them the girl has remembered her name. It's time the forest remembers its monsters."
"And Kael?"
Lucien smiled.
"Let him bask in his redemption. It'll make the fall so much sweeter."
⸻
Flashback: Lucien's Past – The Forgotten Alpha
He was never meant to lead.
He was born the son of a banished Omega, exiled from the Ridge when Kael's father took the title.
Lucien grew up in caves, in frost, in silence.
But the forest raised him.
Taught him how to listen to things humans forgot.
And the night his mother died—sick, alone, cursed—he made a promise to the trees and the wolves and the goddess who never answered:
"I will become the curse they tried to cast out."
And now… he was nearly ready.
⸻
Back in the present, Lucien stood at the edge of the Witherwood border.
He reached into his cloak and pulled out something ancient.
A blade etched in gold and bone.
Moonblood-reactive steel.
Stolen long ago.
"It's time," he whispered to the wind. "Let her feel what it's like to be chosen… not for love. But for war."
Lucien stood at the edge of the Witherwood, the old trees whispering secrets only outcasts could hear. The forest knew him now. It obeyed him. It feared him.
He watched the Blackthorn ridge from afar, tracing the curl of moonlight above the towers.
"Do you feel her now?" he whispered to the trees. "The Moonblood you tried to kill?"
The wind hissed.
"She's bonded to him," said the scout. "You've lost your chance."
Lucien turned, slow and smiling. "No, I haven't. That bond was sealed on her terms. And it means she finally knows who she is."
He stepped forward and dipped his fingers into the bloodstained soil, whispering a curse that coiled like smoke.
"The more she awakens," he said, "the closer I get to breaking the seal."
⸻
🌕 MEMORY: Lucien, Age 15
They burned his mother for refusing to kneel.
Not publicly. Not even with honor.
She was dragged into the Witherwood and left to rot—because she bore a son with a prophecy wrapped around his throat.
"You will never be Alpha," they told him.
So he carved the word Alpha into his own skin.
And when wolves came to devour him, he bit them first.
⸻
Lucien stood now with warriors behind him—rogue Omegas, exiled Alphas, and witches who followed him not for power, but for retribution.
"This bond they formed under the moon," he said, "will not last."
One of the witches—tall, covered in bone markings—stepped forward.
"She's strong," the witch said. "Stronger than we expected."
"That's what makes her mine," Lucien murmured.
He turned to the warrior beside him and held out a scroll.
"Deliver this to the Blackthorn pack by raven. Signed with my crest."
The warrior hesitated. "What should it say?"
Lucien smiled slowly.
"A single sentence."
He turned back to the trees.
"Tell her the forest remembers."
⸻
🌲 IN BLACKTHORN RIDGE
Three days later, Seren sat alone in the Moon Temple—her fingers tracing the edges of a rune only Moonblood could see.
Kael stood at the threshold, watching her.
He held the raven scroll in his hand.
"He sent this," Kael said.
She looked up.
Kael handed it to her.
One sentence.
"The forest remembers."
Seren's breath stilled.
"He knows," she whispered. "He knows about my mother. About the seal."
Kael stepped forward. "We'll stop him."
But Seren stood slowly, her eyes clouded with something ancient.
"No," she said. "We'll have to do more than that."
She held the scroll up and let it burn in her palm.
"We'll have to finish what my mother started."