The Last Crescent Luna

The first scream came before the moon had reached it's peak. It echoed through the Crescent Pack’s territory, followed by the frantic cries of warriors racing toward the Alpha’s den. “They’ve broken the western barrier!” “They’re inside!” “Protect the Luna!” Inside the den, Alpha Rowan barely heard them. His entire world had narrowed to the tiny bundle in his mate’s trembling arms. Their daughter. She was only minutes old. The silver crescent-shaped mark on her shoulder shimmered softly and seemed to get brighter with every heartbeat. “She’s beautiful.” Luna Selene said as she brushed a tear from the baby’s cheek. Rowan forced himself to smile, even though his chest was filled with dread. Outside, the wolves were howling—not in celebration, but in warning. Another warrior burst through the entrance, his clothes were soaked with blood. “Alpha!” he gasped. “The witches have breached the final barrier.” Everyone went quiet, it was as if silence itself had swallowed the room. They were too late. Selene clutched their daughter tighter. “How?” she whispered. “We don’t know. Someone disabled the protective wards from the inside.” A traitor. The realization struck Rowan like a blade. For twenty-three years they had managed to stay hidden from the witch clans. Twenty-three years of moving under moonless skies, leaving no scent, no tracks, no trace of the dwindling Crescent Pack. Yet somehow… The witches had come on the very night their daughter was born. A horn sounded outside. The sound was long and sounded victorious. Just then a calm voice rolled across the forest, amplified by magic. “Alpha Rowan.” The wolves inside the den froze. “I know the child has been born.” Selene’s breathing faltered, the voice continued. “You know why I’ve come.” Rowan stepped toward the entrance, now every muscle in his body was tense. “I won’t ask twice.” The forest itself seemed to hold it's breath. “Give me the child… and I may spare what remains of your pack.” A growl ripped from Rowan’s throat. “You slaughtered my people for twenty years.” “And I will s*******r twenty more if that’s what it takes.” The Witch King’s voice remained unnervingly calm. “That child cannot be allowed to live.” Selene looked down at her daughter. The baby blinked up at her with impossibly bright silver eyes. She was so small, so innocent. How could anyone fear a newborn? As if answering her question, the Witch King spoke again. “The prophecy has already begun.” One of the elders stepped forward, his face had gone pale. “He knows.” “No,” Rowan said through gritted teeth. “He only knows part of it.” Another explosion rocked the mountain and dust began raining from the ceiling. “They’re breaking through!” The cries outside grew louder. They could hear the wolves screaming and their claws clashing against the steel. Selene’s hands shook as she kissed her daughter’s forehead. “There has to be another way.” “There isn’t.” Rowan reached for his mate’s face. “If she stays…” Selene closed her eyes. “They’ll kill her.” He nodded once. “And if she leaves?” “She lives.” The words shattered them both. Before either of them could speak again, the oldest elder stepped forward. “There is one path.” Everyone turned toward him. “The human village.” Rowan frowned. “The witches won’t search among ordinary humans. Their magic is tuned to wolf blood, not a child whose scent hasn’t awakened.” Selene stared at him. “You want us to abandon her?” “I want her to survive.” “I’ve only just held her.” Selene said as tears freely spilled down her face. “And because of that…” the elder whispered, “…you must let her go.” Outside, another barrier collapsed and the den trembled. Time had run out. Rowan wrapped the infant in a thick blanket embroidered with the Crescent crest. He removed the silver pendant from around his neck—the symbol every Alpha of the Crescent Pack had worn for generations—and placed it beside her. “When she’s ready,” he murmured, “she’ll know who she is.” Selene slipped a ring onto the baby’s tiny finger. “My daughter…” Her voice broke. “Find your way home.” The baby opened her eyes. For one impossible moment, the moonlight pouring into the den seemed to bend toward her. The crescent mark on her shoulder glowed. Outside… Every wolf had fallen silent. Even the witches had stopped moving. The Witch King’s voice came again. This time… It wasn’t calm. “It has awakened.” For the first time, there was fear in his voice. “Find the child!” Rowan looked at Selene. No more words were needed. He took their daughter into the darkness beyond the den, racing through a hidden tunnel known only to the Alpha and Luna. Behind him, the sounds of battle grew louder. He never looked back, because if he did… He knew he would never find the strength to leave her. Rowan laid his sleeping daughter on the doorstep, his hand lingering on her tiny cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The distant howl of a dying wolf echoed through the valley. He knew that howl. Selene. His legs almost gave out, but he forced himself to turn away. If he went back now, their daughter would die with them. The cottage door creaked open. A human woman gasped at the tiny bundle wrapped in silver. At that same moment, the Witch King stood in the burning ruins of the Crescent Pack’s home. He closed his eyes, searching with magic for the newborn’s scent. He got nothing. His eyes flew open and a slow smile spread across his face. “Run while you can, little wolf,” he murmured. “I’ll find you.”