THE REALM OF ANCIENS
storm had passed, but the air was thick with the scent of ash and destiny.
Luna stood at the edge of the ruined temple, the wind tugging at her silver hair, her eyes locked on the horizon. Beyond the distant mountains, beyond the veil of shadow that once hid Morrigan's domain, lay the path to the Realm of Ancients.
A place spoken of in whispers.
A place where even Alpha bloodlines were forbidden entry.
A place where Luna's answers waited.
Kael approached with a fresh map, its parchment still warm from the Seer's fire. "The path is marked. But we'll need to cross the Wailing Valley and pass the Gates of Silence. No one's returned from there in a century."
"Then we'll be the first," Luna said, voice steady.
Asher, now free of his chains and guilt, remained at her side. Their bond had not fully rekindled, but it glowed now with something more enduring than fate-choice.
Brin adjusted the straps on her healing satchel. "I've gathered enough herbs to keep us alive. Mostly."
Rae ran a final inspection on their weapons. Nyla stood at the edge of the group, fire dancing between her fingers, her gaze distant.
Luna turned to them all. "This journey won't just reveal who I am. It will define what we become."
They left at dawn.
The Wailing Valley lived up to its name.
Spirits, or echoes of them, cried in the wind. The earth moaned beneath their boots. Luna's wolf stirred, uneasy. Not with fear but familiarity.
By nightfall, Rae and Kael set up camp while Luna wandered a few paces from the fire. Asher followed.
"You're quiet," he said.
She watched the stars blink through the fog. "I feel like I've been walking toward something my whole life. And now I'm finally close, and I don't know if I'm ready."
"You are."
She turned to him. "How can you be sure?"
"Because you've faced rejection, betrayal, war, and darkness. And you're still here. Still fighting."
Their hands brushed, but she didn't pull away.
The next morning, the Gates of Silence loomed—two obsidian towers wrapped in ivy and age.
Brin whispered a prayer. Rae notched an arrow.
Luna stepped forward.
A voice echoed in her mind. Only the true may pass. Only the scarred may see. What is your name?
"Luna Morgan," she replied aloud.
What are you?
She hesitated. "I am Moonblood. Healer. Warrior. Betrayed. Reborn."
The gates creaked open.
The Realm of Ancients was unlike anything they expected.
The air shimmered with magic. Trees stretched to the sky, their leaves glowing with ancient light. Rivers whispered secrets in forgotten tongues. Spirits—real, not echoes—watched from behind crystal-veined rocks.
A woman stood on the path ahead, dressed in robes of starlight. Her eyes were silver like Luna's.
"I am Solana," she said. "First of the Moonblood. And you, Luna Morgan, have been expected."
The group exchanged glances.
Luna stepped forward. "Tell me everything."
And Solana did.
The Moonblood were not born—they were chosen. In every generation, the Moon Goddess reached into the world and selected one soul strong enough to carry the light that could undo darkness. A soul forged in loss, refined in pain, and tempered in love.
"You were never meant to be just a Luna," Solana said. "You are the Gate. The Balance. The Prophecy fulfilled."
"What prophecy?"
"The Eclipse Prophecy."
Solana gestured, and the ground lit beneath them, forming an ancient sigil.
"When a child of silver is born under a blood moon," she recited, "and darkness rises from the forgotten lands, the Moonblood shall rise, and the world will burn or bloom by her hand."
Luna's breath caught. "Burn or bloom?"
"You are the choice," Solana said. "You and the one whose bond you severed."
She turned to Asher.
"You both carry halves of the power. Only together can you restore the world—or destroy it."
Silence fell.
Nyla broke it. "So what now? We camp? We train? We hope she doesn't accidentally burn a continent?"
Solana smiled faintly. "Now, you learn. You remember what your blood already knows."
Days passed like dreams.
Luna trained with Solana. She learned how to channel moonlight through her hands, her voice, even her heartbeat. She summoned barriers from air, healed wounds without touch, and connected to the memory of the Moonblood before her.
Each night, she dreamed of the past—of Morrigan's fall, of the original pact between wolf and moon.
Asher trained beside her, mastering shadow magic left behind in him by Morrigan's spell. Their fighting became synchronized, instinctual. Their bond pulsed again—not the soft thread of young love, but the braided steel of survivors.
One night, after a session of exhausting elemental control, Luna stood at the cliff's edge alone.
Solana joined her. "You still carry guilt."
"I wasn't enough. When Morrigan struck. When Asher left. I should've known."
"You were never meant to bear everything alone. Even the moon shares its light."
Luna turned to her. "What happens if I fail?"
Solana looked toward the stars. "Then night falls forever."
That night, Luna didn't sleep.
She stood under the moon, arms raised, and summoned her full form.
Wings of light.
Eyes of storm.
Markings of truth.
She was not the broken girl from the sacred circle anymore.
She was the storm after silence.