Opening Scene: "The Night the Moon Wept"
The moon bled silver that night.
And beneath its cold gaze, Seren Vale stood alone in the ruins of the Draven stronghold.
The battle was over.
The screams had faded.
But his scent still clung to the air — pine and smoke, the promise of a home she would never return to.
Caelan's body lay still before her, his blood tracing the crescent mark that once bound them. The bond pulsed faintly… and then dimmed.
Gone.
Seren sank to her knees, fingers trembling over the hollow where his heart had been.
> "You promised me the stars," she whispered, "and left me in the dark."
Her wolf, Lyra, whimpered within her — but Seren did not cry. The tears had burned out hours ago, leaving behind something harder.
Something waiting.
The wind carried a whisper then — not from this world.
> "The moon does not choose favorites, Luna… but I do."
Seren's head snapped up.
A figure stood at the edge of the ruins — tall, cloaked in shadow, silver eyes gleaming like twin moons. His presence rippled with otherworldly power.
"Who are you?" she demanded.
He smiled, slow and knowing.
> "A messenger of what you've already called for."
And before she could move, a dark wind wrapped around her — cold, fierce, electric. The ground trembled beneath her hands.
Pain burned through her veins, the mark on her neck flaring to life once more.
Lyra howled — not in agony this time, but in rebirth.
When the light dimmed, Seren rose. Her eyes glowed white-silver, her voice a harmony of wolf and spirit.
> "To the fallen world," she said, her tone steady, "I vow this — I will not let grief devour me. I will become its blade."
Her pack, what remained of it, gathered around her — weary, wounded, trembling.
"I am your Luna still," Seren declared.
"But tonight, we shed our sorrow. We gather in our grief — and forge it into fire."
The shadows around her seemed to bow. The stranger watched, lips curling faintly.
And as the wind carried her vow to the heavens, a whisper echoed through the night:
> The Vengeful Luna has risen