Shattered skies

A sanctuary shattered

​The forest, a cathedral of ancient trees, hummed with a life of its own at night. Moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, illuminating a tapestry of shadows that danced and shifted. The air, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles, was alive with the sounds of the night: the hooting of owls echoing through the trees, punctuated by the chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of unseen animals. The wind whispered through the leaves, carrying with it a soft summer breeze. Three moons—silver, blue, and a deep, haunting red—wove their light lavender magic through the trees.

​Leto, stretched out beneath an old willow, shared her senses with Anastasia, her human mind, as they watched their pups play. Apollo and Artemis, their young bodies sleek and powerful, bounded through the shadows, their playful barks like wind chimes in the still night air. They were filled with a sense of deep contentment. This was their sanctuary, the world beyond its borders seeming a million miles away.

​Then the wind became restless, followed by a flash deep within the forest. A scream, raw and filled with terror, ripped through the quiet. It was like a stone dropped into a still pond, shattering the tranquility. Leto was on her feet in an instant, every muscle tensed, her gaze scanning the darkness for any sign of danger. Eerie shadows across the forest floor seemed to dim momentarily, as if startled by the sound.

​A shiver ran down Anastasia's spine, the hairs on her arms rising. Trapped within Leto's mind, she felt the world tilt on its axis. Leto was like a force unleashed, a whirlwind of instinct and terror. The scream echoed in Anastasia's own memories, a chilling reminder of her own past: fleeing with the twins to this world. The taste of fear, the desperate struggle, the suffocating silence that followed—they all flashed before her eyes, a chilling premonition of what might happen again.

​Driven by an instinct she couldn't suppress, Leto exploded into motion, a silent predator navigating the undergrowth. The metallic scent of blood, a discordant note against the usual symphony of the night, finally reached them, mingling with the damp earth and the aroma of pine needles. The moon's pale silver cape draped the forest in a lilac lavender hue, casting an otherworldly glow on the scene. Dewdrops, shimmering like diamonds, clung to the leaves, reflecting the eerie light of the three moons.

​Leto moved with calculated precision, each step silent and swift. Her breathing quickened, each inhalation filled with that metallic scent. She felt a primal urge to protect the source of the scream. The forest, usually a comforting embrace, now felt alive with a sense of foreboding.

​Suddenly, they burst through a thicket of trees, the source of the scream coming into view. A small figure lay sprawled on the forest floor, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood stained the emerald green moss, creating a macabre tableau in the moonlight.

​Leto froze, her eyes fixed on the injured child. A low growl rumbled deep within her chest. For unknown reasons, she felt an immediate connection to the girl. What hurt this child? Her eyes, usually filled with a predatory gleam, narrowed.

​Anastasia, however, felt a surge of unease. This child, this stranger, posed a threat to their sanctuary. What if she was a spy, sent by her former mate—a creature of darkness placed to infiltrate their hidden world? The fear, cold and clammy, gripped her, a constant reminder of the ever-present threat that lurked beyond the borders of their forest.

​"We should leave her," Anastasia thought, her voice a whisper within their shared mind. "She could be a spy."

​Leto, transfixed, argued back, "How can she be with him? She's injured and barely breathing. We can't just leave her here to die."

​A fierce debate erupted. Anastasia, cautious and wary, argued for safety. Leto, driven by instinct, argued for compassion. Before Anastasia could fully voice her concerns, a soft, ethereal glow began to emanate from the undergrowth as their pups emerged . Apollo and Artemis fixed their eyes on the injured girl, and their young bodies began to glow with an otherworldly light.

​Apollo, a magnificent creature with a coat of shimmering white fur and a black patch over his left eye, moved with cautious grace, his ears perked. Artemis, fur the color of an endless black void shifting between shades of blue-green with a white patch over her right eye, watched with moonstone eyes that glittered with wild, untamed energy.

​They moved to the little girl, their movements guided by an unseen force. Anastasia tried to mindlink their children's human minds, Dino and Clayso, but they were unresponsive. Stunned, she watched as the glow intensified, the girls green hair grew and encased her in a shimmering translucent cocoon. The girl's wounds began to mend, her body slowly straightening. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying.

​Then, in unison, the wolves Apollo and Artemis howled, their voices echoing through the forest. "Mate," they proclaimed, their voices filled with awe and wonder.

​Anastasia felt a surge of panic. If their father discovered they had found their mate, he and his barbaric Twin Moon Pack would come for them. She had to protect her twins. Taking control, Anastasia shifted back to human, pushing Leto to the back of her mind.

​"Kids, shift," she commanded, but her voice was lost in the cacophony of their howls.

​"You can't do this to them," Leto growled deep in her mind. "This is the will of the gods."

​Anastasia ignored her, blocking her wolf out. "They are my children. They are only twelve," she insisted. Turning to her kids, she used her Command—a power so absolute they could not refuse. "PUPS SHIFT NOW." Once the kids shifted, she continued her command "You are to stay away from her until i say otherwise. Also no one, and I mean nobody, is to know that she is your mate, not even her."

​Dino, his sun-white blond hair messy, started to whimper. His summer green-blue eyes filled with tears of betrayal. Apollo howled in pain within him. Clayso, her black hair hanging in front of her stormy blue-green eyes, blazed with anger. Artemis snarled within her mind.

​"You'll regret this, Mother," Clayso hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "She is ours. We are bound to her."

​Anastasia ignored the warning, though a wave of uncertainty washed over her. "We will take her to Fraya; she will know how to handle this."

​Anastasia picked up the unconscious child. Silence descended, heavy and suffocating. As they walked, Clayso spotted something glinting in the moonlight: a small, worn-out stuffed wolf, lying abandoned beside the path. A wave of pity washed over her.

​"Dino," she whispered, nudging her brother and nodding toward the object.

​Dino turned and saw the stuffed wolf. He knelt down, carefully picking up the worn toy. "Poor thing," he murmured.

​Clayso gently took the stuffed wolf from him. "Let's take it to her," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. Dino nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. They carried the stuffed wolf with them, a small act of kindness and some rebellion amidst the growing tension.