THE LUNA’S ASCENSION
But just as I allowed myself that flicker of hope, a scout came rushing toward me, breathless.
“Luna,” he gasped. “There’s something you need to see.”
Heart pounding, I followed him toward the edge of the forest. My packmates were already gathered, murmuring in confusion, pointing toward the treetops.
And there, nestled in the branches of a gnarled oak, was a symbol I hadn’t seen in years—a crescent moon etched in silver, glowing faintly under the night sky.
My stomach dropped. It was the mark of an ancient order, one long thought dead—an order tied to my family’s past and, perhaps, the true source of the prophecy that had haunted my every step.
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