Nightfall

The evening atmosphere was thick with strain. It had the scent of pine, wet soil, and something darker—blood.

Ronan stood atop a stony precipice, gazing across the valley that separated his territory from the nearby pack. A crafty smile played at his lips while he observed shadows shifting in the far distance beneath.

Numerous scoundrels slumped in front of him. They appeared untamed and shattered, their eyes shining with desire and disdain. These were not ordinary wolves. They were pariahs, contorted by agony and fury. Perilous. Precarious. A few had marks that stretched across their faces, while others trembled as if struggling to contain themselves. A couple of exposed yellowed teeth appeared at the noise of Ronan's boots crunching on the gravel.

Just what Ronan needed.

"You know the plan," Ronan said, his voice firm and cold. "Don’t touch the Moonstone Pack. Not yet. Your target is to cause confusion. Burn their stores. Spill some blood. Draw out their Alpha. Make them bleed—but not enough to end them."

Ronan moved closer, his aura both authoritative and eerie. Even the wildest among them took a small step back as he came closer. "This is not about victory." It's related to diversion. We agitate the wasps so Dereek doesn’t notice the snake slithering into his den.

A big rogue moved ahead. "What happens if we encounter Dereek’s warriors?" His voice was raspy, his nose crooked from a previous fracture.

Ronan's gaze tightened, dimly shimmering with a red hue. "Kill them." Leave no evidence. Hide the corpses. Shatter their channels of communication. "I want chaos—not conflict."

The rogues nodded and slipped into the darkness. Their forms transformed and blended into the darkness, feet soundless on the ground.

The battle had started.

Inside Moonstone Mansion, all appeared tranquil, but it was a tranquility that sent chills down their spine. The vast chambers resonated with the soft ticking of clocks and far-off footsteps. Torches mounted on the stone walls flickered, creating shifting shadows.

In her room, Diva was perched on the side of her bed. Her hands clutched the sheets firmly, her complexion wan. Perspiration adhered to her forehead, and her breathing became rapid. She had not shifted in the past five minutes.

She had a dream, a horrifying one. Fires. Yelling. Wolves in distress. A burning forest. And at the center of it, a wolf with silver eyes remained unscathed by the fire.

She did not know what it means. However, it made her feel empty inside. It looked like something is about to break out cause the dream doesn't look ordinary.

She quickly go up from the bed and walked over to the window and looked outside at the peaceful, moonlit grounds. All appeared calm. Trees moved softly in the wind. The guards on night duty were conversing, at ease. However, there was something about the quietness that seemed off.

She traced her fingers on the window’s edge and murmured, "Something’s approaching."

In the manor's battle chamber, a mystical gem mounted on the wall emitted crackling sounds. A voice emerged—low, hurried, fearful.

"Alpha Dereek, important notification. The Rouges are here, many of them."

Derek was already standing, muscles taut and eyes alert. The space surrounding him was illuminated by gentle orange candlelight. A big map of the area spread out on the table before him, with colored pins indicating various regions. He had devoted the evening to planning for border expansions—but now the actual game had begun.

"Rogues?" he asked tightly.

"Yes, Alpha. And they’re tearing through everything. It's like they’re trying to cause chaos."

Dereek swore quietly. He had expected Ronan to make a move—but not so soon.

Just then, the door opened and a young guard rushed inside. The guard should nineteen or even older but he looked nervous and sweat clung to forehead.

"Alpha, your Luna, Diva seems troubled. She mentioned something about fire."

Derek’s jaw tightened. Coincidence? It's can't possibly be a coincidence.

"Watch her closely," he said. "But be discreet. She’s not just another wolf."

"Yes, Alpha."

Once the guard left, Derek turned back to the stone. "Tell Greyhide we’ll send backup at sunrise. Double our patrols. Wake the second and third divisions. If Ronan wants a fight, we’ll give him one."

Still, part of his mind stayed on Diva. Her recent changes. Her stubbornness. And now a vision?

There was something ancient waking up inside her. He could feel it. And that made her both powerful—and dangerous. A weapon, if handled right. A disaster, if left unchecked.

Far away, on the edge of Greyhide land, the attack hit like a storm.

The rogues came fast and quiet. Fire spread through the barns. Warriors scrambled in confusion. Screams cut through the night air. Chaos took over. Horses panicked and ran. Children were rushed into cellars. The smell of smoke and fear blended thick in the air.

From a high point, Ronan watched it all with a pleased look. He could hear the cries even from his perch. Below him, his most trusted rogue commander gave him a silent nod and faded back into the fray.

"Let Derek go save them," he muttered. "Let him wear his hero's mask while I take everything from under him."

His eyes glowed in the dark.

The game had started.

Back in the Mansion, Diva sat close to the fireplace, hugging her knees. She still felt shaken. Her tea had gone cold on the table beside her. The flames danced and cracked, but they didn’t warm her.

She hadn’t told anyone the full vision. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it. But deep inside, she knew this was just the beginning.

She looked toward the mirror across the room. For a moment, she saw a flash of silver in her eyes.

She blinked, and it was gone.

Her heart raced.

What exactly is happening to me?

Outside the window the wind picked as it howled through the trees.

And far off everyone in the mansion could hear the first sounds of war echoed like a distant thunder.

The hunt had begun.