The wind whispered through the dense trees as Emilia trudged beside Mochi, her feet sore and heavy, her body still aching from the transformation. Her clothes were torn, her hands scraped, but she barely noticed. The pain was dull compared to the storm inside her mind.They had escaped Lenora’s prison, survived the ambush, and now… now the silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken thoughts.They had made camp again by a rocky outcrop, far from the reach of any bloodthirsty clan. Emilia stared into the small fire, her thoughts tangled. She felt... different. Changed. As if her soul had been split open and reshaped. Lana, her wolf, was quiet for now, resting after the ordeal. But her presence still pulsed at the back of Emilia’s mind like a warm heartbeat.Mochi sat cross-legged across from her, munching on dried berries she had gathered. She glanced up, her luminous eyes thoughtful.“Are you going to return to the Blood Moon Clan?” she asked softly.Emilia didn’t answer righ
The moon hung low and blood-orange above the treetops, casting jagged shadows across the forest floor. Caelum moved through the darkness like a phantom—silent, deliberate. His long coat fluttered behind him as he navigated the hidden path toward the witch’s lair, the faint scent of magic thickening in the air the closer he drew.The guards didn’t see him. They never did.Not when he didn’t want them to.Lenora’s domain was deep within the ruins of an ancient abbey, vines choking the stone like skeletal fingers reclaiming forgotten holiness. He paused at the threshold, eyes gleaming with something that wasn't quite excitement—something far colder.He stepped inside.The flickering lights of enchanted lanterns lined the hallway, casting dancing shadows along the arched walls. At the far end, she waited—just as he knew she would.Lenora.She stood near the altar, her dark red gown flowing like spilled wine around her feet, her arms folded as she regarded him. There was no warmth in her g
The news came with the rising mist—soft footfalls and the scent of blood that tainted the wind.Marcello's body was found slumped over a stone by the stream bordering the eastern ridge. His skin, pale and swollen, was marred by the unmistakable glint of a silver wound at his ribs. Whoever had killed him hadn’t just wanted him dead—they’d wanted him erased. The cold river had tried to carry him away, but the weight of his sins had kept him close.When the guards dragged his corpse into the courtyard, silence fell like a funeral shroud.Celeste stood at the top of the stone steps, watching with unblinking eyes as they laid her son’s body down. His once-proud face was slack with death, lips parted slightly as if his final words had been stolen. The blood on his tunic had long since dried, but the accusation in his lifeless expression remained.She didn’t scream.Not at first.A whisper left her lips, barely audible: “Marcello…”Then, something inside her snapped.“No! No! No!” she shriek
The coven’s great hall reeked of failure.Crimson curtains fluttered in a sour breeze, and the candles lining the walls dimmed as though the air itself sensed Lenora’s mood. She stood at the center, a vision of fury in her obsidian robes, her pale hands trembling as she clutched a broken mirror shard—one of the many she’d shattered when the news arrived.Emilia was gone.The witches she’d sent had failed.Failed.A witch scrambled to kneel at her feet, blood trailing down her temple. “We— we didn’t see her shift coming, High One. She was just a girl, we thought—”Lenora’s hand snapped upward. The witch gasped, her body seizing as invisible pressure lifted her into the air.“I thought,” Lenora hissed, voice like splintered glass, “I trained a court of precision, of power, of vision. But instead, I see incompetents crawling on my floor like injured vermin.”The witch screamed as her spine bent unnaturally—then collapsed in a lifeless heap.Silence fell.No one moved.From the edge of th
The wind howled outside the gathering hall, rattling the heavy wooden doors as snow drifted in thick sheets across the mountainous terrain. Inside, a fire roared in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls and illuminating the faces of gathered wolves.Dante sat at the head of the table, his shoulders tense, jaw set. The room was filled with the scent of other wolves—dominant, proud, unfamiliar. Across from him sat Gregor, Alpha of the Crescent Fang.Gregor was a broad, rugged man with iron-grey hair and eyes the color of storm clouds. He had the presence of someone who had spent decades commanding loyalty through force and honor alike.Dante gave a brief nod. “I didn’t expect you to agree so easily.”Gregor smirked, lifting his tankard. “You wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t serious. Victor has become a disease. He doesn’t care about blood ties or territory—only power. And he’s aligning himself with things that don’t belong in this world.”Dante’s eyes darkened. “Witch
The night had grown colder as Emilia and Mochi pushed deeper into the forest. The moonless sky remained heavy, draping shadows across every tree, every stone. The initial adrenaline from their escape had worn off, leaving Emilia weary to her bones.By the time they stumbled upon the mouth of a cave tucked beneath a rocky overhang, her legs felt like they were carrying stones.“We’ll rest here,” Mochi said, sniffing the air cautiously. “No scent of recent use. No spells. Should be safe—for now.”Emilia nodded wordlessly and stepped inside. The cave was small, the air cool and dry. She sank to the ground, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders, and leaned her head back against the stone wall.“I’ll keep watch,” Mochi offered, curling up by the entrance. “Sleep while you can. You’ll need it.”Emilia murmured a thank you, her eyes already fluttering closed.The world shifted.She was no longer in the cave, nor in the forest.She stood barefoot on silver grass beneath a night sky b