LUNA FROM THE ASHES

Episode 1 On the night of the blood moon, the storm was heavy like never before, a baby girl came into the world surrounded by both joy and tragedy. The rain fell so heavily that it sounded like thousands of tiny drums beating against the roof of the modest mud house where her mother labored. Outside, the wind howled through the trees as if warning the village that something terrible was near. Inside the house, Rubeca, a young and kind woman, was giving birth to her first child. Her husband, Magnus, paced nervously outside the room, wiping sweat from his forehead despite the cold weather. He had waited years for this moment. After 15 years of marriage, prayers, and hope, their child was finally arriving. At midnight, the cry of a newborn baby pierced through the storm. “It’s a girl!” the midwife announced with a smile. The sound brought instant relief to Magnus. He rushed into the room, his eyes shining with tears. Rubeca, weak but smiling, held the tiny child in her arms. Dark curly hair, and bright eyes that blinked curiously at the dim lantern light. “She is beautiful,” Magnus whispered. “Her name will be Faith.” The air inside the small tent was warm and peaceful, filled with the soft cries of the newborn and the joyful smile of her father, Magnus. He stood beside the tiny child, his rough hands trembling as he gently touched her little fingers. To him, she was simply his daughter—a blessing he had waited years to hold. But far beyond the mountains, hidden inside an ancient cave of crystal fire, the Good Wizard had already felt it. For decades, he had guarded a prophecy spoken by the stars themselves: A child born under the blood moon after a day of the rain of fire, would one day rise against the cruelty of King Alpha Muga and restore peace to the land. He had waited patiently for this night. And he knew one thing with certainty—once the child took her first breath, Alpha Muga would come for her. Without hesitation, the Good Wizard raised his staff and vanished in a swirl of blazing flames. In a heartbeat, he descended from the heavens like a wave of living fire, appearing above the family’s tent. Inside, Magnus suddenly felt a strange chill run down his spine. Then came a violent sound. A rushing wind tore through the night like a thousand whispers. The roof of the tent trembled. A sharp flash of blue lightning split through the top of the shelter, filling the room with blinding light. Magnus froze. Never having heard of any prophecy, nor understanding the meaning of such supernatural power, he believed only one thing—something evil had come to harm his child. “No!” he shouted, rushing toward the baby. He threw himself over the newborn, shielding her with his own body as sparks rained around them. Then the Good Wizard appeared fully before him, his long robes glowing like molten gold, his eyes filled not with malice, but urgency. “There is no time,” the wizard said, his voice deep as thunder. “Your child must live.” But Magnus, terrified and confused, could not trust what he saw. He reached for a wooden spear near the bedside, determined to defend his daughter even against magic itself. The storm intensified. The lightning that had carried the wizard accidentally struck the tent beams. Within seconds, dry cloth and wood burst into flames. Fire climbed rapidly along the walls. Smoke filled the air. The child cried louder. The Good Wizard realized there was no more time to explain. With one swift movement, he stretched out his staff, wrapping the newborn in a cocoon of golden light. A portal of fire opened beside him. Magnus saw his child being lifted away and screamed in horror. “My baby!” Thinking his daughter was being stolen, he lunged forward through the flames, but it was too late. Rubeca was weak and helpless, struggling to stand from where she was lying down, with tears, coughing and confusion. Fear gripped her, the midwife ran away. Everyone was afraid of what was happening. All the corner of the tent was filled with a blazing fire and smoke. The wizard disappeared with the child in a burst of blazing fire, vanishing to a hidden sanctuary far beyond Alpha Muga’s reach. The tent collapsed around Magnus. Yet even as burning wood fell around Magnus, he refused to run. His only thought was his daughter. Coughing violently, eyes red from smoke, he searched every corner of the burning tent. “Where are you?” he cried, pushing through the fire. He could have escaped. He could have saved himself. But a father’s love chained him to the flames. Finally, a massive wooden beam broke loose from above and crashed behind him, trapping him inside. Magnus fell to his knees. His strength faded. The fire surrounded him completely. Still, with his final breath, he whispered into the darkness— “Live… my child.” As thunder cracked across the sky, a group of soldiers sent by Alpha Muga to come and fetch the child, stormed into the room where the baby was born. Alpha Muga, a feared and ruthless leader. He was a man whose name alone could silence laughter, end conversations, and send fear crawling into the hearts of even the bravest warriors. Alpha Muga had ruled over Eggwell pack for many years with an iron fist. He believed power was not something to be shared, but something to be guarded like treasure. No one questioned his orders. No one challenged his throne. But Alpha Muga was deeply troubled. For years also, his royal diviners had warned him of a prophecy. On the night of the blood moon, as candles flickered inside his dark chamber, the oldest diviner spoke with trembling lips. “My lord,” he said, bowing low, “a child has been born. Alpha Muga narrowed his eyes. “What of this child?” The diviner swallowed hard. “She is marked by fate. The child shall grow and bring an end to your reign.” Silence filled the room. The air itself seemed to freeze. Alpha Muga rose slowly from his throne, his heavy robes brushing the stone floor. “A newborn?” he asked coldly. “Yes, my lord.” His jaw tightened. A king consumed by fear is often more dangerous than an enemy. “Send my soldiers,” Alpha Muga commanded. “Bring me the child. Alive.” At once, twelve armed soldiers mounted their horses and rode through the stormy night toward Eggwell pack. Rain beat against their armor as they entered the village like shadows of death. They had only one mission—to find the newborn child. By the time they arrived, The soldiers searched quickly. They stormed through homes, questioned terrified villagers, and made their way toward Magnus house. But when they arrived, they found only fire. The house was collapsing. No sign of the child. One soldier kicked through burning wood, coughing from smoke. “She is not here!” Another cursed loudly. “The baby is gone!” Their leader clenched his fists. “We return to Alpha Muga at once.” When they arrived back at the palace empty-handed, Alpha Muga sat motionless on his throne. His eyes darkened as the soldiers knelt before him. “My lord,” their captain began nervously, “we could not find the child.” Alpha Muga leaned forward. “You failed?” The captain lowered his head. “The house had burned. The parents were still there, but the child was nowhere to be found.” That answer enraged him. He slammed his fist against the arm of his throne. “Then the parents helped her escape!” “My lord, they appeared—” “Silence!” Alpha Muga roared. His fear twisted into cruel fury. If he could not kill the child, he would make an example of those connected to her. “Return to the village,” he ordered coldly. “Seize the parents. Drag them to the village grounds.” The soldiers hesitated. “My lord… the father is dead.” Alpha Muga’s eyes narrowed further. “And the mother?” “She may still be alive, though badly injured.” Far away, hidden within the mountains, the Good Wizard held the newborn close. Looking into her tiny face, he spoke softly. “You have already cost the world a lot, little one. But one day, you will understand why you had to survive.” Outside, thunder rolled across the kingdom. And in his dark palace, Alpha Muga a wicked smile slowly spread across his face. He had felt the prophecy awaken. And now, the hunt has begun. “Good,” he muttered. By dawn, the soldiers returned to the village. They pulled Rubeca, weak and barely conscious, from the remains of the burnt house where villagers had tried to rescue her. Though injured and covered in ash, she was still breathing. The villagers watched helplessly as soldiers tied her hands. “What are you doing?” a woman cried. The captain raised his voice for all to hear. “By order of Alpha Muga, these people are accused of witchcraft and conspiracy against the throne!” Gasps spread through the crowd. “They have given birth to a child meant to overthrow the government,” he continued. “Such evil cannot be tolerated.” “It is a lie!” a villager shouted. But no one dared step forward. The soldiers dragged Rubeca and placed Magnus’s body beside her on the village grounds. Rubeca could barely open her eyes. Still, she whispered one question. “My child… where is my child?” No one answered. A wooden platform was erected in the center of the square. Ropes were prepared. Villagers cried openly, but fear chained their feet. As the ropes tightened, Rubeca lifted her head with the last of her strength. Her eyes searched the crowd. For a brief moment, they met an old woman. The old woman nodded slightly. A silent promise. Your child is safe. Because she was always of the prophecy but never expected it to happen on her own time. Relief softened Rubeca’s face. She smiled faintly. Moments later, under Alpha Muga’s cruel decree, Magnus' lifeless body and Rubeca were publicly executed before the villagers, falsely accused of being witches plotting rebellion. Thunder rumbled in the distance as if the heavens themselves rejected the injustice. The crowd stood in silence. Some bowed their heads. Others wept quietly. But deep within that silence, something else was born. Not fear. Not submission. But anger. A slow-burning anger that would one day rise against Alpha.. 1815/5000