THE WHITE WOLF HE REJECTED

Prologue

People say every legend begins with a lie well at least that's what I believed growing up. As a child, I used to sit among the other pack pups while the elders gathered around the fire, their voices carrying stories older than the oldest trees in Silver Crest. Most of those stories were meant to entertain us but there was one tale they always tell us with sober faces and lowered voices, the tale is legend of the White Wolf.

They say every legend begins with a lie. At least, that's what I believed growing up. According to the elders, centuries ago the werewolf kingdom lived in peace under the blessing of the sacred Moon Crystal, every pup awakened their wolf, every Alpha ruled with strength blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.

Then the Great Blood War started, no one alive remembers how it truly began, people say different stories some say it started cause of greed, others blamed a rogue king who wanted power greater than the Moon Goddess herself, whatever the truth was the war ended with the one thing our ancestors swore could never be broken. The Moon Crystal shattered and without it our world fell apart.

The blessing that had protected the werewolf kingdoms vanished overnight, generations after generation the wolves grew weaker, some pups never awakened their wolves at all. The strongest Alphas lost control beneath the full moon,hunters return with empty hands more often. Hope became something people only whispered about.

The elders always ended the story the same way, “When darkness reaches its deepest hour” they would say something like “The Moon Goddess will send the White Wolf, born from the moonlight hidden among the forgotten, she alone will restore the Moon Crystal, unite the scattered packs and begin the Age of Wolves once more”

Every child listened because no one believed it anymore not even the elders. To them, the prophecy had become nothing more than a bedtime story used to comfort frightened children, the Moon Goddess had abandoned us or so everyone believed.

What no one knew was that she had already kept her promise.

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Twenty-two years ago on a night when thunder split the heavens apart, a violent storm swept across the Silver Crest Pack, rain poured without mercy drowning the forests and everywhere was muddy. The guards stationed at the pack’s entrance.

A cry, soft and weak. One of the guards pointed, “There!”

Nestled against the stone gates was a small woven basket wrapped in a soaked white blanket, inside was a newborn baby, no more than a few hours old her tiny fists trembling against the cold as she cried into the empty night,there was no letter, no family crest, no name, no trace about where she had come from, only silence and the storm.

A bolt of lightening streaked across the sky and for a brief moment a silver crescent moon appeared on the baby's wrist glowing as though the moon itself had kissed her skin.

The oldest Elder standing nearby froze, his breath catching in his throat, he had seen that mark before not in person only in the ancient prophecy hidden deep within the temple archives.

“The White Wolf” he whispered, his voice wasn't audible in the storm.

Before anyone could ask what he meant the mark was gone as though it had never existed. The elder closed his eyes, if the prophecy was true then powerful Alpha's, rogues and enemies alike would hunt this child before she ever had the chances to grow so he buried the truth inside his heart and said nothing.

The baby was taken to the orphan quarters before sunrise. She grew up with no parents, no family no name worth remembering just another forgotten orphan in a dying pack, everyone believed she was ordinary.

Everyone was wrong because that abandoned baby was me.

I spent my entire life believing I was nothing, a girl without a wolf, an orphan who would never matter. I had no ideas that destiny had been sleeping inside me all along and it would stay asleep until the people I loved betrayed me, until they forced me to become the woman the Moon Goddess had chosen long before I ever took my first breath.

After all legends aren't born in moments of glory, they are born from heartbreak.