The silver light fractures like broken glass as I crash through dimensions, my body slamming into ground that shouldn't exist. For a moment, everything is white-hot pain and the taste of copper in my mouth. When my vision clears, I'm alone. Lyara's gone—her warmth, her scent, even the memory of her fingers intertwined with mine feels like it's being pulled from my mind by invisible threads.I push myself up on trembling arms, expecting to find familiar territory, but the world around me writhes like a living thing.The trees of what should be Blackwood territory flicker between seasons—autumn leaves morphing to spring buds, then withering to winter bare branches in endless, nauseating cycles. The very air tastes of ancient magic, thick and metallic, coating my throat with each breath. Shadows dance at the periphery of my vision, whispering in languages that predate human speech, their words crawling under my skin like parasites seeking warmth. This isn't the sanctuary we sought.
But victory always comes with a price, and mine is steeper than I could have imagined. The shockwave that freed the cultists doesn't stop at the chamber walls—it ripples outward, deeper, striking the ancient seal itself with more force than I intended.The sound that follows isn't quite an earthquake, isn't quite thunder, but something worse—the sound of reality tearing. Cracks appear in the air itself, spreading like a spider web across the chamber, and through those cracks seeps something that makes Nyx'Thal's darkness look like a candle flame.This isn't the controlled hunger of a deity seeking worship—this is primal, endless, the kind of hunger that devours galaxies. A Primordial. The name comes to me through Nyx'Thal's terror—yes, terror, not rage—as her presence writhes in my mind like a trapped animal. She's afraid. The deity who has haunted my bloodline for generations is suddenly, utterly afraid."You don't understand," her voice whispers desperately in my mind. "The co
The moment I speak my defiance aloud, something inside me *breaks*. Not metaphorically—literally. The crescent mark on my arm splits like glass under pressure, and I scream as radiant energy pours from the wound like liquid starlight. The pain is beyond description, as if someone has torn my soul in half and set both pieces on fire. Nyx'Thal's presence writhes within me, no longer the composed deity but something wild and desperate, clashing against another power I've never felt before. My knees hit the stone floor with a crack that echoes through the chamber, and I'm dimly aware of the masked wolves stepping back in alarm. But their fear is nothing compared to the terror building in my chest as visions flood my mind—not the familiar darkness of Nyx'Thal's memories, but something else entirely. Silver light. A woman's voice, gentle but fierce. And a name that shouldn't exist in any record I've ever seen: Luna Blackwood, the Defiant Sister. My mother's ancestor who refused the co
I was born to be a Luna… but not to become a weapon. The thought echoed through my mind as I stood alone in the moonlit clearing, the wolf's prophecy still ringing in my ears like a death knell.The ancient words had carved themselves into my consciousness, each syllable a blade that twisted deeper with every heartbeat. Around me, the Blackwood Pack's territory stretched endlessly into shadow, but I felt more isolated than ever before. The sigil on my arm pulsed with an otherworldly heat, as if something beneath my skin was trying to claw its way out. I pressed my palm against the mark, hoping to smother whatever was stirring within, but the burning only intensified. This wasn't just a blessing from the Moon Goddess—I could feel it now, the way it moved with its own consciousness, its own hunger.The realization hit me like ice water: I wasn't marked by divinity.I was possessed by something far older, far more dangerous. The prophecy hadn't chosen me as a savior; it had branded me
Killian POVCrowns shine brightest before the storm—and mine feels heavier with every shadow Selene casts. The weight of leadership has never felt more crushing than it does in this moment, watching my mate kneel beside the collapsed seer-child while the pack looks on with a mixture of terror and fascination. The little girl's mother clutches her unconscious daughter with desperate hands, tears streaming down her face as she rocks back and forth in a primal rhythm of grief and fear. Selene's silver aura pulses around them both, protective and gentle, but I can see the strain in her shoulders, the way her power wavers like a candle flame in the wind. The prophecy still echoes in my mind—"The Luna of silence shall break the world in two"—each word a dagger twisting deeper into my chest.I've fought battles that would break lesser men, stared down enemies that would make warriors flee, but nothing has ever terrified me more than the possibility that loving Selene might damn us all. T
I never wanted a crown—I only wanted a place to belong. But if the crown is what it takes to protect what's mine, then let them place it on my head. The weight of responsibility settles over me like moonlight through dark clouds, both beautiful and haunting.Standing here now, watching the Blackwood Pack transform their sacred grounds into something from a dream, I feel the truth of those words burning in my chest. Flowers cascade from every tree branch, their petals glowing silver in the moonlight as if touched by magic itself. Lanterns hang like captured stars, casting dancing shadows that make the whole world seem alive with possibility. The bonfires roar with primal energy, their flames reaching toward the heavens as if trying to carry our joy to the moon goddess herself. Children run between the adults, their laughter pure and untainted by the darkness we've all survived. Warriors who once looked at me with suspicion now bow their heads in genuine respect, their eyes reflect