REBIRTH OF THE BETRAYED LUNA

The abandoned warehouse loomed over the edge of the industrial zone, its broken windows staring blankly into darkness. It seemed, from the outside, like all the other abandoned buildings in this part of the city. But far below its concrete pillars, in the rooms that existed inside the warehouse, something ancient stirred.

Thirteen figures knelt in a perfect circle on the cold stone floor. Their black robes rustled silently in the night air as they stood with heads bowed in reverence. The candles cast pools of flickering light around the room, the flame dancing even in the absence of wind. The light which they gave seemed unnatural somehow, casting shadows which moved on their own with no care for their source.

In the center of the circle stood a fourteen figure dressed also clothed in black. She, unlike the others, emanate a sense of superiority that spread to all corners of the room. Her voice, whenever she did speak to them, was heavy as centuries.

"My faithful servants," she started, her tone cutting through the stillness like a blade. "Our Master stirs restlessly in his cell between worlds."

The kneeling figures shook as a whole. The mere mention of their Master sent fear coursing through their veins. They had seen him briefly in their visions, felt him behind the walls that held him captive. He is darkness personified, bottomless hunger, the kind of power that would devour all life and re-shape it in his own form.

"The blood moon is approaching," the fourteenth figure continued, beginning to stride among the crowd that had gathered. Her strides bounced abnormally, as if from a location much further beneath the paving stone. "For over three centuries, we have accumulated power enough for his return. We have drawn the blood of Luna-born women, corrupted pack bonds, and introduced strife to the world of the supernatural."

One of the kneeling figure raised his head. His face was gaunt and scarred with scars that had etched-out elaborately on his face. "Mistress, how much longer? The other packs are starting to suspect. Some have already begun asking questions about the missing females."

The leader halted in her tracks and the air in the room cooled a few degrees. "Patience, Marcus. Three centuries of planning cannot be hurried in the last few months." She started walking again, her cloak rustling gently behind her. "But I've found the final piece to our puzzle."

The thirteen individuals drew nearer, their breathing quickening with anticipation.

"The Silvercrest pack has a bloodline unlike any other. Their Luna magic is clean, never been tainted thus very powerful. The current Luna has a daughter approaching adulthood, and her magic" The voice of the Leader melted away, like a lover remembering a long night of pleasure. "Her magic will release our Master's from his prison."

Another of the followers stood on her feet, a woman whose voice sounded like breaking glass. "What about the other bloodlines we've acquired? Haven't they provided us with enough power?"

"They were preparations for the final ritual," the leader replied, standing before the altar in the center of the room. Upon it lay a crystal ball that glowed with black light, filled with foamy mists that form shapes too revolting to comprehend. "This vessel contains the essence of forty-seven women who were born with Luna blood running through their veins. Their strength keeps our Master alive, grants him power as he waits. But to breach the walls between dimensions, to allow him to walk in flesh amongst us, we need something more."

She placed her palms on either side of the crystal, and the fogs inside started whirling at an increasing rate. For a moment, the shadows on the wall seemed to take form as an unholy beast with an uncountable number of teeth and it's eyes aglow like smoldering embers. The disciples slumped on the floor in shock at the brief glimpse of their Master's real form.

"The Silvercrest girl will be that something more," the leader panted, her speech only a whisper but somehow echoing to the farthest corners of the room. "Her bloodline holds time magic, the power to warp reality itself. When her power is joined with what we have built up already, the barriers between worlds will crumble like dust."

She lifted her hands from the crystal, and the ghastly vision was gone, leaving only behind the dim outlines of a basement room. But the memory of what they had seen lingered, and the air was thick with copper and fear.

"I will now leave to begin the final phase," the leader said, facing her followers again. "The child is young, just sixteen. She'll need a friend, a guide, to gain her trust. By the time she realizes what is happening, it will be far too late."

The kneeling figures started chanting. Their chants rise and fell with harmonies that made the candle flames dance even more wildly. Their voice swelled to a volume that seemed to move the very foundations of the building.

Seconds later, the chanting stopped and the ensuing silence weighed heavily.

"Until next time," the leader announced, her voice now tinged with victory, "our Master will be free, and this world will burn in glorious darkness. Mortal days are over. It's time for the era of the void."

She stretched up to grab the hood of her cloak, pulling it back to reveal a face that was equally beautiful and horrifying. High cheekbones, full mouth and dark eyes with depths no human eye should ever have. Despite the centuries she'd lived, her skin is youthful and still fresh from the power she'd stolen from her victims.

Gradually, the face shifted and reshaped itself. The sharp features lost their austerity, the otherworldly beauty softened and became warmer and more human. When the transformation was complete, a beautiful young woman stood before them with the sort of warm smile that screamed trust.

"Wish me luck," Elena Martinez said, her voice now taking on the light accent of a native-born American from the Southwest. "I have a friendship to build."

With that, she walked through the midst of her kneeling followers and up the rock steps that lead to the world beyond. The thirteen figures remained behind her, their faces turned toward where she had been.

The warehouse grew silent, looking again like an empty structure on an empty corner of the city. But below, something old and hungry waited on, counting off the days it'll finally break free from it's prison.

And far out in a small town stood the residence of the Silvercrest pack and a sixteen-year-old Aria who is about to meet her new best friend.