Chapter 5
1198 Words
The Blood Moon suddenly deepened into a terrifying shade of crimson.
Its once gentle glow became dark and ominous, bathing the entire werewolf realm in an eerie blood-red light.
Then…
An invisible force swept across the land.
Every Alpha in the werewolf realm froze.
Their wolves howled in agony as a crushing pressure settled over them. Some instinctively clutched their chests, while others dropped to one knee, unable to understand the strange power surging through the air.
“What… is this?” Alpha Rowan muttered, his face paling.
The next second—
RUMBLE!
The earth shook violently.
The ground beneath the festival cracked as people screamed in terror.
Tables overturned.
Lanterns crashed to the ground.
The sacred Moonstone trembled so violently that tiny fractures appeared across its surface.
Panic spread through the crowd.
“Run!”
“It’s an earthquake!”
“Protect the children!”
“W-What’s happening to the moon?”
Within seconds, the joyous celebration dissolved into complete chaos.
Mothers clutched their children.
Warriors rushed to keep the frightened wolves from being trampled.
Newly mated couples held tightly onto each other as the ground continued to shake beneath their feet.
Not knowing what else to do, Lyra grabbed onto a nearby wooden pillar to keep herself from falling. Her heart pounded wildly as the violent tremors threatened to throw her to the ground.
She looked up at the blood-red moon, a strange uneasiness settling deep within her soul.
“Why do I feel like… this has something to do with me?”
The thought frightened her.
Shaking her head, she quickly dismissed it.
“No… that’s impossible.”
As soon as the tremors weakened, she wasted no time. Pulling her cloak tightly around herself, she hurried through the frightened crowd and made her way back to her small cabin.
Behind her, cries of fear still echoed throughout the pack.
No one understood what had just happened.
Not even the Alphas.
⸻
Meanwhile…
Deep inside the council hall, the pack elders had already gathered.
The heavy wooden doors slammed shut as the last elder entered.
The atmosphere was grim.
No one spoke for several long moments.
Each of them wore the same expression—
Fear.
Finally, the oldest elder broke the silence.
“In over five thousand years…”
“I have never witnessed the Blood Moon change like this.”
Another elder slowly nodded.
“Neither have I.”
The room fell silent once more.
The ancient records spoke of only one event capable of turning the Blood Moon that color.
One event so catastrophic that it had nearly destroyed both the werewolf realm and Hell.
The Head Elder slowly looked around the room before speaking in a low voice.
“An ancient seal has been disturbed.”
Several elders exchanged uneasy glances.
“But… that’s impossible,” one elder argued. “The prophecy ended thousands of years ago.”
“Did it?” the Head Elder asked quietly.
His gaze shifted toward the blood-red moon visible through the council hall window.
“Or… has it just begun?”
A chilling silence settled over the room.
For the first time in five millennia…
The elders feared that history was about to repeat itself.
Yes! That’s actually much better writing.
⸻
Lucien stood beneath the towering pines, his silver eyes sweeping across the endless darkness.
Hours had passed.
Every ruin had been searched.
Every ancient shrine had been inspected.
Every trace of demonic energy had led to nothing.
The Infernal Heart was nowhere to be found.
His jaw tightened.
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
One of his generals stepped forward cautiously.
“Your Highness… perhaps the Oracle was deceived.”
Lucien remained silent.
It wasn’t impossible.
The throne of Hell had never been free of enemies.
A faint smile slowly curved onto Lucien’s lips.
It wasn’t mocking.
It wasn’t cruel.
It was… genuine.
For a brief moment, the cold mask he had worn for over two thousand years disappeared, replaced by an expression no one in Hell had ever lived long enough to witness.
His silver eyes, usually as cold as winter, softened ever so slightly, as though he had finally found something he had been searching for his entire life.
The two demon generals froze where they stood.
They stared at their prince in complete disbelief.
Neither of them spoke.
Neither of them dared to.
In the centuries they had served Lucien Draven, they had watched him slaughter armies without blinking, sentence traitors to death without mercy, and sit upon the obsidian throne with an expression carved from stone.
He had never laughed.
He had never shown joy.
He had never smiled.
Not once.
Yet now…
The man who was feared throughout the Nine Circles of Hell stood beneath the Blood Moon with the faintest smile resting on his lips.
Even Lucien seemed unaware of it.
He slowly lifted his hand and touched the corner of his mouth, as if trying to confirm that the unfamiliar expression was real.
A flicker of surprise crossed his face.
He was smiling.
How long had it been?
Five hundred years?
A thousand?
No…
It had been over two thousand years since he had felt anything close to hope.
His silver eyes lifted toward the blood-red moon, and in a voice so soft that only the night could hear, he whispered,
“After two thousand years…”
He paused, his smile deepening ever so slightly.
Many demon lords had spent centuries plotting against him, waiting for the slightest mistake that would cost him his life.
Sending him into the werewolf realm under false information…
It was exactly the kind of trap they would set.
If he died here, no one in Hell would question it.
His death would simply become another casualty of the ancient hatred between demons and werewolves.
Lucien slowly closed the ancient map in his hand.
“We’re leaving.”
His generals bowed.
“As you command.”
They had barely taken a few steps when Lucien suddenly stopped.
A strange sensation washed over him.
His heartbeat became irregular.
His breathing slowed.
The air around him seemed to change.
It was almost as though…
Something had awakened.
He frowned.
No.
Not something.
Someone.
An invisible force tugged gently at his soul.
Not enough to hurt…
Just enough to make him stop walking.
His silver eyes narrowed.
He had never experienced anything like this.
Not during wars.
Not while facing the gods.
Not even when he ascended as the Crown Prince of Hell.
The feeling was unfamiliar…
Yet strangely comforting.
One of the generals noticed his expression.
“Your Highness?”
Lucien didn’t answer.
He simply stood there.
Listening.
Feeling.
Waiting.
Then…
A faint smile slowly appeared on his face.
It was small.
Almost imperceptible.
But it was enough to shock the generals.
Neither of them had ever seen the Prince of Hell smile.
Not once.
Lucien lifted his eyes toward the blood-red moon.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Soft enough that only the night could hear it.
“After two thousand years…”
He paused.
His smile deepened ever so slightly.
”…I finally found you.”
⸻
End of Chapter 5
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