CHAPTER 1 — The Blood Moon Awakes
1220 Words
The Shadow Moon Pack hadn’t gathered like this in a hundred years. Even the forest seemed aware of it. The air vibrated, heavy and thick, carrying the scent of moss, earth, and something older—something alive, waiting. Every rustle of the leaves, every creak of the ancient trees felt like it echoed the heartbeats of those standing below. The forest itself was holding its breath.
The clearing was alive with firelight. Torches lined the edges, their flames licking the mist, turning it red, painting everything in shadows and blood. Wolves padded carefully around, their eyes glinting with curiosity and fear. Elders whispered warnings to one another. Young hunters barely dared breathe. And at the center of it all, the sisters stood, a living image of the prophecy.
Above them, the Blood Moon glowed swollen and impossibly red, hanging low in the sky. It wasn’t just a moon tonight. It was a sentinel, a witness, a judge. Its light poured over the six sisters, highlighting their similarities—the same dark hair, the same piercing blue eyes—but also revealing the subtle differences that made them individuals. Their bond of blood had always been their crown. Tonight, it might become their curse.
Selene was at the center, standing taller than the rest, though none were particularly short. Her chin was high, shoulders squared. Her gaze locked on the moon as if she could will it to choose her, as if daring the universe itself to make a mistake. There was power in her calm, a danger in her stillness. She didn’t need to speak—everything about her said, I belong here.
Seraphina, gentle Seraphina, stood beside her, hands clasped in front of her. She whispered something soft, almost lost in the roar of the forest, a prayer or a plea—it didn’t matter. Her soft face and tender demeanor masked the fire burning in her eyes. She was quiet, but not powerless. Not by a long shot.
Lilith hovered in the shadows, letting the other sisters claim attention. Her presence was quieter, colder, like a blade unsheathed. Her expression gave nothing away, and perhaps that was the most terrifying part. She already seemed to know how this night would unfold.
Callista smirked at the murmurs of the crowd, her energy wild and uncontained. She thrived on chaos, and she could almost taste it in the thick night air. Mira, the youngest, trembled, glancing between each sister, her eyes wide with wonder and fear. And Aria—the ever-loyal protector—stayed a careful step behind, watching, waiting, ready to shield her sisters from whatever fate had planned for them.
At the edge of the clearing, Elder Kael lifted his ancient staff, its carvings older than the forest itself. The runes shimmered faintly under the Blood Moon’s light. His voice, rough and wind-gnawed, cut through the silence.
> “Under the gaze of the Blood Moon, the prophecy awakens once more. Six faces. One crown. Love will choose… and blood will fall.”
The words rippled through the crowd. Every wolf stiffened. Every human held their breath. Whispers rose like restless shadows. The forest seemed to lean in, waiting.
And then, the light shifted. The Blood Moon burned brighter, deeper. A flash of red shot through the sky, striking the sisters. Gasps tore from the crowd. The wind itself stilled as glowing crescent marks appeared on each sister’s right wrist. Identical, perfect, and searing with a heat that seemed to come from the stars themselves.
Elder Kael’s mouth opened, but only a whisper emerged.
> “The mark of the goddess… The prophecy has returned.”
The sisters looked at each other, their breaths shallow. They were staring at reflections of their own destiny, mirrored in flesh and blood. Each mark was a claim, a warning, a promise.
Then the pounding of hooves echoed through the trees, heavy and deliberate. The crowd instinctively drew back. A procession of warriors entered the clearing, flanking a tall figure draped in black and crimson.
Damien Blackthorn had returned.
Whispers spread like wildfire:
> “The exile…”
“The cursed Alpha…”
“He bears the mark of kings…”
He dismounted slowly, carefully, each movement deliberate. Every step carried the weight of a man who had lost too much, trusted too little, and survived regardless. His silver eyes caught the Blood Moon’s light. Sharp. Piercing. Haunted. They had seen betrayal, bloodshed, war, death… and they had survived it all.
The clearing fell silent. Even the torches seemed to bow in acknowledgment. Damien moved toward the sisters. Gravel crunched under his boots, his presence radiating power and grief in equal measure. A whisper of memory stirred deep within him, something primal, something that had been waiting a lifetime to awaken.
When his eyes fell on Selene, the world tilted. The crowd, the torches, the whispers, the prophecy—they all disappeared for a single heartbeat. Her gaze met his, and something ancient and eternal stirred. His wolf growled, deep and low, a sound he barely restrained.
Reality wavered. Selene’s face shimmered and blurred. In her place, five more identical faces appeared, each glowing under the Blood Moon’s unrelenting light. Their eyes merged, a single, impossible truth that hit Damien like a hammer to the chest.
He stumbled, hand clutching his chest, breath jagged.
“What is this?” he muttered, barely audible, his voice swallowed by the night.
A faint, teasing laugh echoed in his mind—the goddess, taunting, reminding him of forces he could never control.
Elder Kael stepped closer, staff trembling.
> “Alpha Damien… it seems fate has chosen to test you. The mark shines for all six.”
Damien’s jaw clenched, tight as iron.
> “Impossible,” he growled. “There can be only one fated mate.”
Kael met his gaze, calm, unwavering, unflinching.
> “Perhaps. Or perhaps… this time, the goddess chose differently.”
The sisters exchanged uneasy glances. Seraphina’s lips curved into a tentative, shaky smile.
> “If the goddess has chosen… let her will be done,” she said softly.
Selene’s eyes flicked to Damien. Cold. Calculating. And yet… there was something pulling at her, deep in her chest, a thread she refused to acknowledge. Lilith whispered, barely audible:
> “Six faces. One heart. Which will he love enough to destroy?”
The Blood Moon pulsed, answering silently. Damien’s control faltered. His wolf surged within him, raw, ancient, fierce. His heart thudded with a rhythm older than time. Their scents—honey, smoke, moonlight, rain—hit him all at once, overwhelming, intoxicating, undeniable.
And in that moment, he knew. One of them was his. Among them. Watching. Calling.
His throat went dry. His fists clenched. The forest seemed to hold its breath once more. Even the flames flickered lower, as if in reverence. Every eye in the clearing was fixed on him, waiting—waiting for command, for denial, for confession.
Damien lifted his gaze, first to the Blood Moon, then back to the six sisters staring at him like fragments of fate itself.
A growl escaped him, low and raw, a sound that had no words but carried everything he could not speak.
His wolf’s voice echoed inside him, ancient, untamed, insistent.
> “Mate.”
- Writer
