The storm howled through the night like a beast in mourning. Lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the tangled woods of Ravenguard in brief flashes of raw, silver light. The forest writhed in the wind, trees bending and groaning under nature's fury as if trying to pull free from the earth. Rain lashed against the roof of a crooked wooden cottage hidden deep within the woods, a forgotten shelter on the border between the human realm and something far older.
Inside that trembling cottage, a scream tore through the air—a woman's cry, primal and raw, soaked in both agony and defiance. Amara Vale lay on blood-soaked sheets, her skin pale and slick with sweat. Candles flickered wildly, casting shadows on the stone walls as thunder cracked above. The midwife—a hunched, shivering woman named Lira—hovered at the foot of the bed, her trembling hands stained crimson.
"Push, Amara! Just once more!"
Amara's nails clawed into the mattress as another wave of pain crashed over her. Her scream rose again, one final act of resistance against the force trying to rip her apart.
And then—silence.
The child was born with eyes wide open.
No cries. No wails. No struggle.
Just watching.
Lira leaned forward, breath held, to lift the newborn girl.
But as her hands touched the child, her spine stiffened. She saw the glyphs.
Symbols shimmered in the child's irises—markings older than the moon itself, etched in shadow and fire. Lira staggered back as if burned. "What is she?" she whispered.
Amara, fading fast, turned her head with effort. "Her name… is Seraphina." Her voice was weak but resolute. "She is marked… by the moon… by fate."
Lightning illuminated the cottage once more. Outside, the wolves howled.
Not in fear.
In allegiance.
---
Fifteen years later…
The wind in Ravenguard still whispered secrets.
Seraphina Vale stood at the edge of the woods, her hood drawn over her long black hair. The hem of her cloak brushed the dew-covered grass, and her boots sank slightly into the muddy trail. The sun had long set, and twilight bathed the land in hues of violet and blue.
Behind her, the village slept—safe, unaware.
Ahead, the forest called.
Her mark had begun to burn again.
The one carved into her back since birth, shaped like a crescent moon pierced with runes. When she was younger, her foster mother claimed it was a birth defect. But Seraphina had always known better. She'd felt it in her bones.
The pull.
The hunger.
The destiny.
Tonight, she would cross into Blackfang Territory. A forbidden land ruled by wolves. By monsters.
By the Alphas.
---
She moved swiftly through the underbrush, trees clawing at her cloak, whispers following her every step. Eyes watched her from the darkness—glowing, curious, wild.
She didn't stop.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but it wasn't fear that drove it.
It was recognition.
Her feet led her to a clearing bathed in moonlight, where the trees formed a perfect circle around an ancient stone altar. Moss had claimed the base, and cracks marred its surface, but it radiated a presence older than time.
She stepped forward, hand trembling as it reached toward the stone.
The moment her fingers brushed it, pain exploded across her spine. Her mark ignited like fire beneath her skin. Seraphina fell to her knees, screaming as visions tore through her mind.
A kingdom in flames.
A beast with wings made of shadows.
A man—tall, cloaked in darkness, with eyes that burned like embers.
"You are the end and the beginning," a voice whispered. "The cursed savior. The marked one."
Her body went still.
When she awoke, moonlight glimmered above her.
And he was there.
Lucien Duskbane.
He stepped from the shadows, shirtless, power radiating from every inch of his muscular frame. Scars told stories across his chest. Tattoos coiled like runes over his arms. His eyes—gray like storm clouds—held the weight of centuries.
He was more than a man.
He was Alpha.
He stared at her in silence.
The air thickened. Wolves emerged from the tree line, massive and silent, forming a circle around them. None moved. None growled. They bowed their heads.
Lucien's voice broke the silence. "You bear the mark."
Seraphina's throat was dry. "You… you know me."
"I've always known you," he replied. "I've dreamed of your blood. Of your fire. Of your death."
"Why me?" she whispered.
He knelt before her, his voice a low rumble. "Because you're mine."
The mark on her back pulsed again. In his presence, it glowed.
Seraphina trembled. "You're the man from the vision."
Lucien leaned closer. "And you're the girl fated to destroy me."
Then, without warning, he stood and turned. "Come. The forest awakens. And your destiny won't wait."
Seraphina remained frozen, breathless. Something deep within her—something ancient—was stirring.
She followed him.
And the wolves followed her.