Prologue- The Heavens wept

The heavens were crying the night they found her.

Rain lashed against the forest, wind tearing through branches like the world itself was grieving. Thunder rumbled across the mountains, echoing through the trees. Somewhere in that storm, a baby cried.

Alpha Rowan of the Blackfang Pack heard it first.

He stopped mid-stride, his boots sinking into the soaked earth, and turned toward the sound.

“Did you hear that?” His voice was rough, barely audible over the roar of rain.

The patrol behind him, five wolves, fierce and disciplined, lifted their heads. Even in human form, their instincts sharpened instantly. A faint wail cut through the storm again, carried on the wind like a whisper of fate.

“A child,” one of them murmured.

“In this weather?” another growled. “It could be a trap.”

Rowan’s eyes glowed amber, his wolf senses flaring. “No trap sounds that helpless,” he muttered, breaking into a run.

They moved as shadows through the rain, their forms blurring between man and beast as they leapt over fallen logs and thorny undergrowth. Lightning flashed and there, in the hollow of an old willow, lay the source of the sound.

A baby.

Wrapped in blood-stained cloth. Alone.

Rowan slowed, heart pounding as he crouched. Her cries softened the moment his shadow fell over her, her tiny fists uncurling in the air. He brushed away a strand of soaked hair from her forehead black as midnight. Her eyes blinked open briefly, and even through the rain, he could see it, the deep, molten brown colour of chocolate. Unfamiliar. And yet, something ancient stirred behind them.

“By the Goddess…” murmured Elder Corvin, stepping closer. His silver beard was dripping with rain, his wrinkled eyes wide. “A pup, left to die.”

Rowan lifted her gently, his cloak wrapping around her to block the cold. Her skin was warm, too warm for a normal infant. And beneath her scent of blood and rain, there it was: the unmistakable essence of a wolf.

“She’s one of us,” Rowan said softly.

The others exchanged wary glances.

“But her scent,” said one. “It’s… mixed. Like she doesn’t belong to any known pack.”

Rowan met his gaze with quiet authority. “Every wolf belongs somewhere. Tonight, she belongs here.”

The others shifted uneasily. “Alpha, this could mean trouble. You know what the Council would say—”

“The Council,” Rowan snapped, “isn’t here.” His gaze softened as he looked back at the child. Her cries had faded into small hiccups, her tiny hand curling around the edge of his coat as though claiming him. “She will not die in this storm.”

Lightning cracked, illuminating his face, strong, resolute. In that instant, the baby’s eyes fluttered open again, meeting his. For a moment, the world went utterly still. The rain seemed to slow, the thunder to hush.

Corvin shuddered. “She’s… looking right at you.”

Rowan swallowed. “Perhaps she sees what’s to come.”

The elder bowed his head. “What will you call her?”

He thought for a long moment, feeling the weight of destiny pressing down. Then, in a voice that carried through the rain, he said, “Samantha. Samantha Willow.”

As the name left his lips, thunder roared again, not in anger, but in acknowledgment.

And miles above, hidden by storm clouds, the Moon itself flickered once, as if marking the beginning of a story the heavens themselves had written.

They brought her back to the Blackfang compound that night.

The guards stared in disbelief as their Alpha carried the mysterious child through the gates, soaked to the bone but holding her like a miracle.

“She’s to be taken in,” Rowan ordered. “No questions.”

And though none dared defy him, whispers spread by morning. Some said she was cursed, a child born of blood and storm. Others said she was blessed, the Moon’s offering to their pack.

Years would pass before anyone discovered which was true.

*

Ten years later…

The forest that once raged with storms now shimmered with sunlight. Dew clung to the grass, and laughter echoed through the clearing near the Alpha’s home.

“Cade! Wait up!”

Samantha’s voice rang out, breathless but bright.

The golden-haired boy turned, his grin mischievous. “You’re too slow, Sam!”

“I’m not!” she argued, lifting the hem of her tunic as she sprinted after him. The wooden sword in her hand glinted as she swung it clumsily. “You cheated!”

“It’s not cheating if I’m better!” Cade laughed, ducking her next strike easily and spinning behind her. “You left your guard open, again!”

Before she could react, his practice sword tapped her shoulder, sending her stumbling.

“Dead!” he declared proudly.

“That’s not fair!” she huffed, pushing up from the dirt. “You’ve had lessons with the warriors. I’m still learning.”

“You always say that.” Cade’s blue eyes softened. “You’ll get there.”

Samantha dusted off her tunic and frowned. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” His tone was firm, and for a second, she forgot to breathe. Cade had that effect, confidence so steady it made her want to believe too.

A sharp voice broke through their laughter. “Cade! Samantha!”

They both turned. Alpha Rowan stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, his shadow long in the sunlight.

“Training is not a game,” he said, striding toward them. His gaze was stern, though not unkind. “If you cannot take your lessons seriously, perhaps you should not be here.”

“It was my fault,” Cade said immediately, stepping forward. “I was teasing her—”

Rowan lifted a hand. “Enough. You’re dismissed. Samantha, stay.”

Cade gave her a small, reassuring nod before jogging away. Samantha’s throat felt tight as Rowan’s eyes settled on her.

“You’ve spirit,” he said after a long silence. “But spirit without focus is recklessness.”

“Yes, Alpha,” she murmured, head bowed.

He studied her face, those same brown eyes that once looked up at him from a cradle. “Your wolf hasn’t shown yet, has she?”

Her shoulders stiffened. “No, Alpha. Not yet.”

He sighed. “You’re still young. When the time comes, you’ll understand your strength.”

She nodded, anxiously waiting for the day her wolf would show, that she may finally be truly a wolf.

That night, she sat by her window, staring at the silver glow of the moon. Her reflection shone faintly in the glass, long black hair, soft eyes, a girl caught between two worlds.

“Please,” she whispered to the stars. “Let me hear her. Let me feel her. Just once.”

But the only sound was the wind. And in the silence, she thought she heard faint laughter, not cruel, but ancient. Like the Moon herself was smiling at her impatience.

When she finally slept, she dreamed.

A vast field stretched under endless night. A woman stood in the center, cloaked in silver light, her hair like a river of stars. Samantha took a step forward, reaching out.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The woman smiled, though her eyes shimmered with sorrow. “You’ll know me soon enough.”

“Are you my wolf?” Samantha whispered.

The woman didn’t answer. She lifted a hand instead, brushing invisible dust from Samantha’s cheek. “When the time is right, little one… we’ll become one.”

And then the vision shattered — replaced by the sound of distant thunder.

Rowan woke that night to the howl of a wolf echoing across the pack’s borders. He rose, sensing something he couldn’t name, a pulse in the air, like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to the earth. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw movement beyond the treeline: a shadow with eyes that glowed silver.

But when he blinked, it was gone.

Only the moon remained. Watching. Waiting.