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The Edge of the Eclipse

作者: Tyson Roy
last update 最終更新日: 2025-08-07 13:02:37

High above the village—where the pines thinned into toothpick silhouettes and the air stung with the first hints of snow—the world felt both closer to the heavens and farther from home. The overlook gave them a view of everything: the wide sprawl of Moonrise, the green fields fading into shadowed forests, and the silver curl of the river threading through the heart of their territory like a promise written in light.

Aria stood at the cliff’s edge, her cloak pulled tight against the wind. Xander stood beside her, solid and silent, while their daughter danced between them—barefoot on the cold stone, her breath puffing clouds into the crisp air. Above them, clouds swirled in restless coils, as if the sky itself sensed what was coming.

The whispers had begun at dawn.

An elder’s dream. A spirit’s omen. A flicker in the sky that no telescope could explain away. The blood eclipse was coming—not just any, but the kind that had once cracked alliances, unmade leaders, and called prophecy from m
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  • Moonlit Secrets   The Sky Turns Red

    The mountaintop was silent except for the wind, a thin, haunting cry that seemed to rise from the bones of the earth itself. All day, a hush had settled over the valley below—a hush of expectation, fear, and the brittle hope that had become the only shield left to the pack. They had drawn the unity circle the night before, bound bloodlines with magic and will, and for a heartbeat, it had felt enough.But as dusk bled into night, the sky was painted in colors no artist’s brush could conjure. A shivering red, deep and furious, spread from the horizon until even the stars seemed to hide. The blood eclipse, foretold by Watchers and whispered in nightmares, had begun.Aria stood on the highest ledge with Xander, their daughter clutched between them, her small hand trembling in Aria’s own. The three moons—white, gold, and ghostly blue—hung for a breath together, then faded behind a tidal wave of crimson. The air grew sharp with the tang of ozone and old, wild magic. Each breath was like dri

  • Moonlit Secrets   The Circle is Drawn

    The sun lingered low and golden in the sky, hesitant to set on the day after betrayal. Across the northern camp and into the valley, the wounds left by Alin’s actions still ached—there were words left unsaid, glances that flickered with doubt, a new wariness in the laughter of children at play. But as dusk neared, another current moved among the three clans and their allies: a resolve, a growing certainty that survival would not come from suspicion or strength alone, but from something older, deeper—chosen unity.The Watchers had not vanished. Instead, they gathered near the oldest clearing in the valley, beneath three pale moons rising side by side—an omen the elders whispered had not blessed the sky in living memory. There, upon moss and ancient stone, they drew a ritual circle wide enough for all to see and surrounded it with torches that flickered with blue, silver, and gold flame. In the center, the ground was marked by a spiral of salt, wolf’s blood, and moonroot, encircling a s

  • Moonlit Secrets   Betrayal at Dusk

    Dusk bled into the valley like spilled ink, smearing lavender and crimson across the snow. In the northern camp—where the Pact of Three Clans had planted its roots—music and firelight danced in uneasy harmony. Aria moved quietly between clusters of warriors and healers, her voice warm, her touch gentle. But within, she carried the stone’s secret and the gnawing ache of prophecy tightening around her child like a vice.Xander felt it too—the tilt in laughter, the stiffness in once-loyal shoulders. Old grudges muttered behind tents. The unity they’d fought to forge flickered like flame in a storm.And then the message came. Whispered. Rushed. Wrong.Lysa intercepted it first—a fragment of Ash Pack code hinting at something gone amiss. Varek reported a missing rogue. Danica’s second-in-command had not returned from her watch. Aria’s instincts screamed.They found Mira outside the diplomatic tent, white-faced, cradling Aria’s daughter. The lamp was overturned, the canvas flap torn.“She t

  • Moonlit Secrets   Beneath the Sleeping Stone

    The days following the Watchers’ return brought no calm—only a sharpening of the senses, as though the valley itself held its breath. Aria awoke each morning with the echo of voices she could not name—tongues older than the Watchers, murmuring through her bones like wind through hollow stone.The Watchers began their teachings in earnest. From children to elders, all were welcomed into their silent circles beneath the trees. There, they were taught the rites of Remembrance, rituals designed to tether soul to memory in the face of darkness. And though hope grew in the hearts of the valley, Aria could not ignore the hum beneath every lesson. It was not peace—it was a warning.On the second morning, veiled in silver mist, the lead Watcher summoned her and Xander to the edge of Skyvault Ridge. The figure stood motionless, draped in midnight blue, his bone mask gleaming like frost. In silence, he handed her a shard—smooth as glass, etched with runes that shifted like whispers in water. At

  • Moonlit Secrets   The Return of the Watchers

    Three days passed in rare peace.Training drills blended packs and rogues. Children shared stories across fires, their laughter louder than the ghosts that once haunted these hills. Aria barely slept—so many voices, so many wounds in need of stitching—but she dared to believe the pact might take root.Until the ravens came.Rowan saw them first—spiraling above Skyvault Ridge, silent and synchronized. A bad omen, he said. Old wolves muttered legends not spoken in years.The Watchers.They came with the dusk, cloaked in midnight, faces masked in carved wolf-bone. Twelve of them, tall and still as stones. The one at their center bore a staff crowned with a stone that pulsed like a heartbeat.They did not speak at first. They simply walked down the ridge in eerie silence, and the valley stilled in response.Aria met them with her allies—Xander, Danica, Varek, Lysa, Rowan—each bearing the weight of their people. Even the bravest shifted uneasily beneath the Watchers’ unmoving gaze.Then th

  • Moonlit Secrets   The Pact of Three Clans

    The frost hadn’t yet left the ground when Aria stood beneath the scarred sky, her hands clenched beneath her cloak. Spring had sent out cautious feelers—buds curling against the wind, grass inching toward green—but Moonrise still bore winter’s weight in its bones. Much like the valley, the people within it were thawing slowly, hesitantly.This, she thought, was the hour that would decide the future—not a prophecy’s fire, but the fragile breath between wars.The war tent stood atop the scarred battlefield of Thornridge Hollow, its canvas patched and dyed in three distinct colors: Moonrise’s silver, the Ash Pack’s crimson, and the rogues’ black-braided wild. It was not a place of glory. The soil here still remembered fire and bone. But it was sacred now—not for what had burned, but for what might bloom in its stead.Inside the tent, silence waited like a fourth guest.Danica of the Ash Pack sat at the long table first, her youthful face a mask of steel. A scar cleaved her brow, an echo

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