Third Person POV
The battlefield still shook with war cries and steel. The dust hadn’t settled—not even close. The air was thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and something darker—something ancient. The earth bore the scars of the battle, deep claw marks and pools of crimson staining its once-pristine surface.
Caitlyn stood over broken ground, her fingers smeared with blood that wasn’t all hers. Bree and the exiled wolves were still locked in brutal combat with the Forsaken creatures. Selene was casting shields for fallen fighters, her energy flickering like a dying star, her breaths labored as exhaustion threatened to pull her under. And Kane—her son—stood beside her now, his body trembling, his power unstable, the very earth pulsing around him as if responding to the storm within him.
Then, the sky split.
A second shadow rose.
From the heart of the battlefield, the ashes where the Forsaken King had been bani
Third Person POVThe first ones to see him return were the guards at the southern ridge.They didn’t recognize him at first.The boy who had left weeks ago—skinny, restless, lost—was gone. In his place walked someone older. Not in years. In presence. In silence.Kane walked with his shoulders straighter now, his jaw firmer. He carried no weapons, but no one dared question if he was armed. His eyes, once golden, now shimmered with pale silver and hints of blue fire beneath them. Not magic. Not wolf.Something else.Something older.As he stepped into the heart of Eldoria’s recovery camp, all conversation stopped.Every head turned.Some whispered his name.Some just stared.Selene was the first to reach him, her eyes scanning him slowly. “You’re different.”“I had to be,” Kane said quietly.She raised a brow. “Did you find what you were looking for?”“No,” Kane answered. “But I found wha
Third Person POVIt began with a book.Or rather, what was inside a book.Raymond stood in the Moonborn sanctum ruins, fingers brushing aside dust that hadn’t been disturbed in months. A shaft of light slanted through the broken roof above, casting long, narrow shadows across the crumbled stone floor. The cold didn’t bother him anymore.He had been returning here almost every night.Not for closure.For something else.Hope.The dream still lingered. She is not gone. The words clung to his ribs like frost. And now, this—the book Selene had brought from the deepest level of the archives.He flipped another page.His eyes caught on a passage written in an older tongue. But he recognized the symbols. Not just Moonborn, but pre-Moonborn.He ran a finger along the line. A familiar symbol repeated there—an inverted crescent enclosed by vines.He had seen Caitlyn draw it once. On parchment. On her wrist in
Third Person POVThe first sign came with the rivers.Clear streams that once ran smooth through the valleys between the Hollowclaw and Broken Fang territories had turned still overnight. Not frozen. Not polluted.Just… stopped.The water hovered, perfectly flat, defying gravity. When a warrior tossed a stone in, it bounced like it had struck glass.The second sign was worse.A storm rolled through the Western Ridge. No rain. No wind. Just lightning—dozens of bolts, striking the same circle of trees over and over, leaving them untouched but scorched in spirals.By the time the third sign appeared—wolves howling in their sleep with no memory of why, always facing north—the Alpha Council could no longer ignore it.Raymond stood in the council hall, arms crossed, listening to the latest reports from the sentries.“No casualties,” said one scout, shifting uneasily. “But it’s..
Third Person POVIt started in a dream.Or maybe it wasn’t a dream. Maybe it was something more.Kane stood alone in a field that didn’t exist—stars overhead brighter than anything he’d ever seen, grass silver beneath his feet, wind moving like breath itself. No walls. No ruins. Just silence. Stillness.Then, her voice.Soft. Familiar. Sharp as ever.“You’re not done yet.”He turned around.And there she was.Caitlyn stood across the field, hands behind her back, wearing the same black jacket she used to wear when he was little. Her hair was longer now, and her eyes—they weren’t glowing like the Moonborn Queen. They were just his mom’s eyes.Warm. A little tired. Fierce.“Mom,” he whispered.She smiled. “Hi, sweetheart.”He didn’t run to her. He didn’t cry. He just stood there, drinking her in like he was afraid she’d vanish if he blinked.“Is this real?” he asked.“Does it matte
Third Person POVThree days after the battle, the wolves gathered again.Not to fight. Not to bury. But to crown.The ruins of Eldoria were quieter now, though still scarred. The blood had dried, the smoke had thinned, and the surviving werewolves had begun the slow work of rebuilding. But this—this moment—wasn’t about walls or weapons.It was about leadership.It was about deciding what kind of world they were building from the ashes.Raymond stood atop a wide stone platform, a half-collapsed stage that had once been used by Eldorian priests to chant over fallen warriors. Now it held a different kind of ceremony.His clothes were simple. Black leather, worn boots, silver stitching across the collar to mark him not as a king—but as a soldier who had survived a war no one else could’ve led.Before him, the werewolf packs had assembled.Not separated now.Together.Exiles. Hollow
Third Person POVThe silence didn’t feel like victory.It felt like loss.Like the world itself had forgotten how to breathe.Smoke drifted across the ruined fields of Eldoria. Stone pillars, once symbols of ancient might, lay broken in jagged pieces. Blood—red, silver, black—soaked the earth. And scattered among the debris were the bodies of wolves, some breathing, some not, the aftermath of a war no one had wanted but everyone had fought.At the center of it all, Raymond didn’t move.He sat with Caitlyn’s body cradled in his lap, arms wrapped around her shoulders, cheek pressed to her temple like if he just held on tightly enough, she’d come back.His eyes were dry now.He had cried all he could.Now there was just… silence.Kane stood a few feet away, staring at them. His fists were clenched so tightly his nails had drawn blood. His eyes were wide, too wide, as if tryi