The night was still, yet alive with whispers.
Every corner of the Crimson Citadel seemed to breathe — ancient walls pulsing faintly as if they carried the heartbeats of long-dead kings.
James Wilson stood upon the balcony of his chamber, gazing into the endless dark that stretched toward the mountains.
Beyond those peaks lay the wolves' domain — the Moonvale Ridge — where his father's armies would soon march.
He clenched the cold metal railing, his mind a storm.
For centuries, he'd fought the hunger within, the curse that bound his bloodline to death and desire. But this war — this endless cycle — it wasn't survival anymore. It was vanity.
And he could feel it.
Something ancient was stirring beneath both races, drawing them together like two blades meant to shatter.
Behind him, a soft voice broke the silence.
"You're planning something foolish again, aren't you?"
James turned. Hannah leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, her silver eyes glinting with mischief and worry.
"If I were," James replied, "you'd already be part of it."
Hannah sighed. "I should be. Because if Thomas finds out you're sneaking past the Blood Guard, he'll do more than disown you — he'll drain you."
James smirked faintly. "Then I'll have to make sure he doesn't find out."
He picked up a black cloak, fastening it across his shoulders. "The prophecy speaks of balance. Of sorrow shared. If the Luna Wolf truly exists, she's the key — not the enemy."
Hannah stepped closer. "And what if she's not what you think? The Luna Wolf's heart may burn brighter than ours, but her claws still tear flesh."
James looked at her — not with arrogance, but with something far rarer among their kind.
Conviction.
"Then let her tear me open. Better to die seeking truth than live feeding on lies."
Hannah's lips parted, but before she could answer, he was gone — vanished into shadow.
🌒 The Forest Border – Moonvale Ridge
The border between the two realms was a scar upon the earth.
No tree grew straight. No animal crossed without trembling. It was here that Chloe Brown and Taron Vale halted, their cloaks soaked with mist and moonlight.
Taron knelt, touching the ground. "They've patrolled this route. Two nights ago, at most. Blood scent — strong."
Chloe sniffed the air. "Vampires?"
He nodded. "Dozens."
Chloe's gaze hardened. "Then we're close."
From the fog ahead, a voice called out — low, melodic, and hauntingly calm.
"You shouldn't have come here."
They turned.
A tall figure stood between two ancient trees, his silhouette sharp against the moonlight. His eyes glowed faintly — not red, not gold — but an impossible mix of both.
James Wilson.
Taron shifted instantly, his body snapping into the form of a massive black wolf. He growled, claws raking the ground.
"Vampire," he snarled.
James raised a hand. "I'm not here to fight."
Chloe's eyes narrowed. "Then why are you here?"
James stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "To stop one."
The tension between them crackled like lightning.
Taron circled, teeth bared, but Chloe lifted a hand — stopping him.
She studied James's face carefully. "You're Thomas's son."
"And you're the Luna Wolf."
Silence fell. Only the wind dared to move between them.
Chloe's voice was cold. "Your father killed my brother."
James didn't flinch. "Then I owe you a debt greater than you know."
For a moment, something ancient flickered in the air — a pull neither of them could deny.
The prophecy had whispered of this: "Blood and Moon shall meet beneath the veil of death. Not as foes, but as echoes of the same sorrow."
Taron broke the stillness. "Chloe, we can't trust him."
James met his glare. "You shouldn't. But you'll need me."
Chloe tilted her head. "For what?"
"Because the Blood God beneath the citadel is waking — and when he does, neither vampire nor wolf will survive."
The forest seemed to breathe in unison — as though the world itself had heard the warning.
Chloe's hand drifted to her blade. "And why should I believe you?"
James reached into his cloak and drew a shard of crimson crystal, pulsing faintly with light. "Because this… was taken from his heart."
The crystal thrummed with a living pulse, and shadows rippled across the trees. The ground trembled softly — just once — before falling still again.
Chloe's eyes widened. "You've been to the Blood Chamber?"
James nodded. "And I've seen what's coming."
🩸 Back at the Crimson Citadel…
Lord Thomas Wilson stood before the throne of bones; his gaze fixed upon the burning symbol etched into the floor — the mark of the Blood God.
Kael knelt before him. "He's gone, my lord. James has crossed into the Moonvale Ridge."
Thomas's expression didn't change. "Good."
Kael looked up, confused. "Good?"
Thomas turned, the faintest smirk forming on his lips. "Let the boy follow his delusions. When the Blood Moon rises, the curse will demand its heir. Whether he returns as savior or sacrifice… makes no difference."
He placed his hand upon the mark, and the crimson glow spread across the chamber.
"Let the prophecy begin."