One Big, Beautiful, Dysfunctional Family

By the time the sun had started its slow dip behind the trees, the beach near Blood Moon’s lake was already glowing with orange light and the smell of woodsmoke. Someone had set up a bonfire ring, courtesy of Gunner and Ben (and by "courtesy," we mean forced labor by mate guilt), and the pack had started gathering in their usual chaotic way.

Ben manned the grill with an apron that read “Alpha Dad Bod Loading”, a gift from Chelsea that had everyone howling. Chelsea sat nearby, perched on a blanket with Darian in her lap, feeding him bites of fruit while also tossing sass at her mate.

“Don’t burn the burgers again, Ben,” she called. “This isn’t college.”

“That was one time—”

“And it smelled like charred regret for a week.”

Serenya, however, stood a bit apart at first, her bare feet digging into the sand and her wide blue eyes trying to track everyone. She’d never seen so many different species together, let alone so comfortable. Laughing. Teasing. Acting like they were family.

Cheyenne noticed the hesitance and walked up beside her, a bottle of beer in one hand and a hotdog in the other.

“Okay, Mustang Barbie,” she grinned, nudging her shoulder. “Time to meet the other halves of this madness.”

Serenya raised an eyebrow. “Do I get a map? Or a translation guide?”

Cheyenne snorted. “Nah, just roll with the chaos. It’s how we survive.”

They made their way toward the others, and Cheyenne clapped her hands dramatically. “Alright, y’all, meet Serenya—our brand-new, sparkly, sacred-bloodline Guardian. And yes, she's taller than all of us, and no, you can’t ride her in horse form, Ben.”

Ben raised his hands. “I didn’t say that out loud!”

Chelsea narrowed her eyes. “But you thought it.”

Serenya blinked. “Wait… ride—?”

“Don’t ask,” Cheyenne muttered. “Okay, moving on.”

She gestured with her hotdog. “That grumpy but lovable alpha over there flipping burgers is Ben, Chelsea’s mate. Chelsea is our resident party queen, storm witch, and total badass luna.”

Chelsea winked. “And full-time sarcasm translator.”

Cheyenne pointed next to the vampire pair—Isolde and Thorne—both dressed like they’d stepped out of a gothic fashion magazine, even for a casual beach party.

“Those two are Thorne and Isolde. She’s a blood-sucking queen, literally, and he’s her dark and broody soulmate. Don’t let the leather fool you, they’re softies.”

Isolde gave a lazy wave. “Welcome to the asylum.”

“And that over there—” Cheyenne said, motioning toward a tall figure holding Tora’s hand, “—is Jax, Tora’s mate. She’s a dragon, he’s a lycan. They’re still trying to figure out what their twin babies will breathe—fire or attitude.”

“Leaning toward attitude,” Jax called out.

“Definitely attitude,” Tora added, cradling a plate loaded with pickles and brownies.

“And Nalia—our firebird goddess—is mated to my brother, Tyler, who she left back in bed this morning like a one-night stand. Poor dude woke up confused and emotionally abandoned.”

“I left a note!” Nalia protested, stepping back through the portal, dragging Tyler behind her by the arm. “He’s just dramatic.”

Tyler grinned. “To be fair, it said ‘BRB’ and nothing else.”

“Because I was right back!”

Cheyenne rolled her eyes affectionately. “Anyway, there’s your cheat sheet. You’ll learn the rest on the fly.”

Serenya looked from couple to couple, her brows furrowed. She opened her mouth, paused, then tried again. “Wait… you’re not all the same species.”

Silence fell for a beat.

She pointed carefully. “Dragon and lycan. Wolf and phoenix. Vampire and vampire. Wolf and wolf. Witch and wolf. This… this doesn’t happen in my world.”

Tora tilted her head. “What doesn’t?”

“Interspecies mating. It’s unheard of. Impossible, even.”

Chelsea gave a soft laugh. “Yeah, we thought that too. Until it did.”

“It’s more than possible,” Cheyenne said, sliding an arm around Gunner’s waist. “It’s fate. The real kind. Doesn’t care what form you take or what blood runs in your veins. You feel it, and that’s it. Game over.”

Gunner smirked. “You’re getting soft, your highness.”

Cheyenne elbowed him. “Keep talking and you’ll be eating sand for dessert. This ass monkey is Gunner, my mate.”

“Awe you haven’t called me that in many moons.” Gunner joked back, kissing the top of Cheyenne’s head.

Everyone laughed, but Serenya stood still, her expression now a little distant.

Nalia stepped forward, gently. “Have you… found your mate yet?”

Serenya hesitated, her fingers curling against the fabric of her pants. “No. Not yet. I… I haven’t met anyone who stirred anything. But I haven’t exactly stayed in one place long.”

Ben, ever the tactless one, said, “And what about your herd? Are they helping you look?”

Chelsea smacked his arm, but Serenya didn’t flinch.

“My herd…” She paused. “Was attacked years ago. Over half were lost. The rest scattered. Some stayed. Some didn’t. I left soon after. I’ve been searching ever since—trying to find those things that killed our people. But no… I haven’t found a mate. Not yet. And I won’t settle for a chosen one either.”

Her voice was strong, even if her eyes glistened.

Cheyenne nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “You’ll know when it happens. Trust me.”

Koa’s voice echoed in her mind. You didn’t trust it either, remember? You ran from Gunner the first time you met.

Cheyenne gave a subtle eye twitch and smirked. “It doesn’t always go smoothly. But when it’s real? Nothing else matters.”

Serenya finally gave a tiny smile. “Good to know.”

The conversation turned light again, drifting into a debate about whose kid was going to take over the world first. Tora insisted her twins were destined for greatness. Chelsea countered with Darian’s terrifying knack for fire magic and tantrums. Isolde threatened to teach him vampire stealth for fun.

But Serenya just sat back, watching them all.

This strange, mismatched, sarcastic, powerful family of misfits…

Maybe—just maybe—she was right where she needed to be.

The crackle of the bonfire echoed beneath a blanket of laughter. The smell of grilled meat hung in the air, and the kids were zooming around the sand like sugar-fueled comets. Liora was chasing Kael in wild zigzags, both giggling uncontrollably while Darian ran after them shouting, “WAIT FOR ME, I’M FAST TOO!”

Chelsea leaned against Ben with a tired but glowing smile. “Our son thinks he's faster than a baby dragon.”

Ben shrugged. “Confidence is 90% of it.”

Cheyenne sat in a beach chair next to Gunner, half-listening to the chaos, half-soaking in the peace. For once, no fires, no blood, no rogue vampires or ancient prophecies. Just family. Just joy.

But then… the wind changed.

It was soft. Barely more than a breeze.

But Serenya’s head snapped up like she'd been struck, her eyes widening as her dark hair blew gently behind her.

Across the bond, Koa stirred with sudden alertness.

Cheyenne. Look at her.

Cheyenne blinked, her gaze following Koa’s attention to Serenya. The horse shifter stood unnaturally still, her face pale and focused on nothing—no, not nothing. Something else. Something far away.

Cheyenne stood. “Serenya?”

The others turned toward her voice, the party atmosphere instantly dimming like someone turned down the volume on the sun.

Serenya didn’t answer at first.

Then she blinked, her voice barely above a whisper. “The wind… it whispered to me.”

Isolde slowly lowered her drink. “Like, whispered-whispered?”

Serenya nodded, finally turning to face them. “It was… a prophecy, I think. But I don’t know what it means. I didn’t understand all of it. Just… fragments.”

She opened her mouth, ready to repeat it.

Cheyenne was across the space in an instant, holding up a hand. “Not here.”

The command in her voice snapped the others to full Guardian mode.

Tora was already on her feet. “Calling Collin and Tegan. They can watch the twins.”

Chelsea pressed her fingers to her temple. “Nik? Yep, I need you to take Darian. No questions. Yes, he’s bathed. No, don’t let him near the cookies.”

Ben passed Darian to Chelsea for a quick kiss before the hand-off, and within a matter of minutes, the little ones were gone—either curled in wolf-sized blankets or off with the world’s most dangerous babysitting vampires.

Gunner, ever the silent sentinel, had already doused the fire and signaled to the guards to give them space. A few wolves shifted and took up watch positions around the beach.

Cheyenne looked at Serenya again, this time with steel in her eyes.

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice low but certain. “Cabin. Now.”

They walked in silence through the woods. The moonlight cast dancing shadows as if the trees were listening too. No one spoke—not out of fear, but out of reverence. A whispered prophecy on the wind wasn’t something any of them took lightly, not after everything they’d seen.

Once inside the cabin, Cheyenne locked the door while Chelsea dropped the wards, and reinforced the protective seals with a flick of her fingers. Koa was pacing in her mind, ready.

The others took their places like they had so many times before. Chelsea sat cross-legged on the floor, Ben behind her with a steady hand on her shoulder. Nalia and Tyler leaned against the fireplace, Tora and Jax flanking the windows. Isolde stood by the bookshelf, arms crossed, and Thorne beside her, as still as a statue.

Serenya stood in the center, her arms wrapped around herself.

Cheyenne nodded. “Alright, sweetheart. You’re safe now. What did the wind say?”

Serenya took a breath. Closed her eyes.

And when she spoke… her voice was not her own.

It was older. Ancient. Laced with power she hadn’t even touched yet.

“When dusk meets dawn beneath the mountain’s crown,

The one who runs shall carry the sound.

When light bends twice and stars turn red,

A bond will break, a truth long dead.

One child born with the spirit of flame,

One with the wild, untamed and unnamed.

The herd shall gather, the skies shall part—

And blood shall rise from the river’s heart.”

Silence.

Dead, aching silence.

Serenya opened her eyes slowly, blinking like she had just woken from a trance.

“I… I don’t know what any of that means,” she whispered. “It was like someone else said it through me.”

Cheyenne turned and looked at the group, each person now staring with varying degrees of wide eyes and deeply furrowed brows.

“Well shit,” Chelsea finally said. “And here I thought the night couldn’t get more dramatic.”

Cheyenne didn’t laugh. She was already turning toward the bookshelf.

Tora let out a breath and looked to Jax. “I’m gunna need a notebook.”

Cheyenne moved toward her bookshelf with purpose, brushing her fingers along the spines until she found the one she was looking for. It was a thick, weathered journal bound in soft brown leather. The edges were frayed, the cover scored with claw marks and burn lines. A faint glimmer of old magic clung to it.

Tora’s eyes lit up. “Is that—?”

“Grammy’s,” Cheyenne confirmed, holding it up before flipping it open. “She catalogued every known prophecy, vision, and magical anomaly she encountered. Some of it makes no damn sense, but if that whisper just came from the wind itself, it might’ve passed through her time too.”

Tora pushed her hair back into a bun, stood up, and pointed at Jax. “Notebook. Now.”

He blinked at her. “Why do I feel like I’m in math class and forgot my homework?”

“Because this is basically Prophecy Algebra and I suck at math. So unless you want me to start writing on the walls with eyeliner, I suggest you move.”

Jax grumbled under his breath, disappearing into the hall and returning with a worn-out spiral notebook and a chewed-up pen. Tora plopped down beside Chelsea, cracking her knuckles like she was preparing for a pop quiz from the Universe itself.

Ben leaned toward her. “You really about to transcribe ancient cryptic riddles right now?”

“Better than figuring out what kind of diapers a hybrid dragon-lycan baby needs,” she muttered, scribbling the first two lines of Serenya’s prophecy down in blocky letters.

Cheyenne flipped through Grammy’s journal, stopping occasionally to scan a few lines before growling low in her throat. “Half of this is written in Old High Magic. Which would be fine if I wasn’t raised on sarcasm and sarcasm alone.”

Nalia stepped in. “Let me see.”

The Phoenix Queen sat beside her, reading over her shoulder with her usual calm, her fingertips glowing with subtle gold light. “There’s something here… see this?” She pointed to a swirling sigil tucked into the margin of one page. “It’s a reference to the Flame and the Wild. The same words that appeared in Serenya’s prophecy.”

Tora glanced up. “Two children. Flame and Wild. Twins. Sound familiar?”

Jax groaned. “Can we stop predicting doom for our kids for like… one week?”

“Nope,” Chelsea said. “We already burned that calendar. This is our life now.”

Cheyenne shut the book slowly. “Alright. We do this like we always do—together. One-on-one. Each of us takes a piece and breaks it down. Serenya, you okay with that?”

Serenya, still a little pale, nodded. “If it helps make sense of it, yes.”

“Then let’s start pairing up.” Cheyenne turned, her Queen Alpha energy rippling beneath her skin. “Five Guardians, five lines, five trials. Let’s go.”

Round One: Cheyenne & Serenya

Cheyenne led her to the far corner of the cabin near the window, where moonlight cut through the glass like silver silk.

“When dusk meets dawn beneath the mountain’s crown…” she murmured, tapping her fingers against her temple. “It sounds poetic, but it’s talking about time and location. Could mean a meeting point. Could mean someone—or something—is born between two worlds.”

Serenya blinked. “That’s… me, maybe?”

Cheyenne nodded. “We all were. None of us fit neatly into one mold. I think it’s saying your purpose is tied to a crossroads. Where opposites meet. Where fate shifts.”

Koa stirred in Cheyenne’s mind. She is the hinge, Chey. The balance. That’s why you felt her coming before she ever crossed the border.

Round Two: Chelsea & Serenya

Chelsea didn’t do anything gently. She grabbed Serenya by the hand, dragged her over to the fireplace, and plopped her down on a cushion. Her magic shimmered faintly, stormy and grounded all at once.

“When light bends twice and stars turn red,” Chelsea recited. “That line has witch shit all over it. Could be an eclipse. Could be a blood moon. Could be a once-in-a-thousand-years cosmic shift.”

Serenya’s brows pinched. “So… a specific moment?”

“Exactly.” Chelsea snapped her fingers. “Magic peaks. Energy bursts. You’ll know when it’s time to act. That’s your window. Don’t miss it.”

Ben leaned in. “She says it like it’s easy. Just hop into the apocalypse real quick, no big deal.”

Chelsea threw a pillow at him. “Shut up and let me witch.”

Round Three: Tora & Serenya

Tora, already halfway into a third page of notes, motioned Serenya over. “I’m gunna pretend this line—‘One child born with the spirit of flame, one with the wild’—isn’t personally threatening to my mental health.”

Serenya smiled faintly. “Sorry?”

“It’s fine. I’ve only had the twins for a year and now apparently one of them is bound to bring down the sky or something.” Tora exhaled. “But it’s not just about your journey. It’s about legacy. What we pass on.”

Jax chimed in from the other side of the room. “Hope the flame kid isn’t a fan of fireworks. Just sayin’.”

Tora ignored him. “You carry the wild. Like your Chief said. The old bloodline. The balance. That might be why this prophecy came to you.”

Round Four: Isolde & Serenya

Isolde moved with silent grace, guiding Serenya toward the bookshelf and pulling down an old tome of vampire lore. She opened it to a page with diagrams of sacred rivers.

“‘Blood shall rise from the river’s heart,’” she murmured. “This has the ring of a bloodline awakening. Of something ancient returning.”

Serenya’s lips parted. “You think this is about my herd?”

Isolde gave a single nod. “Or something buried deep within your kind’s origin. A gift, maybe. A danger. It’s in your blood.”

Thorne, silent until now, added, “Blood speaks. It remembers even when we forget.”

Round Five: Nalia & Serenya

Nalia didn’t say a word at first. She simply led Serenya to the hearth, lit a single phoenix flame, and let it hover between them. The light flickered as she recited:

“The herd shall gather, the skies shall part…”

“It means your people will rise again,” Nalia said gently. “And the heavens will answer. You were born for this. You are their spark.”

Serenya swallowed hard, emotion tightening her throat. “And if I fail?”

Nalia smiled. “Then you’ll rise again. Like all flames do.”