Crimson Vows

The moon hung like a pale eye in the night sky, watching. Lucien Blackwood stood at the edge of the clearing, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. Something was wrong. The forest had fallen silent. No rustling leaves, no night creatures stirring, just stillness and the distant scent of ash. Run. The voice wasn't his own, nor Fenris's familiar presence in his mind. It was ancient, a whisper that seemed to rise from the earth itself. They're coming. Lucian's muscles tensed as he scanned the tree line. The shadows between the pines depend, writhing like smoke twisted from a hidden fire. A low growl rumbled in his chest as Fenris stirred beneath his skin, sensing danger. The first howl split the silence: not the proud call of a wolf, but something twisted and wrong. Another howl followed, then dozens more, like a cacophony of tortured murmurs, their warped voices twisting through the air like shadows that refuse to stay still. "Alpha!" Maddox's voice reached him from somewhere in the darkness. "They've breached the eastern border!" Lucien tried to move, shift and call out orders, but his body refused to obey. The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, and the scent of ash grew stronger, choking him. The tree line erupted with movement. Dark shapes poured from the forest: wolves with matted fur and glowing red eyes, their bodies misshapen as if caught between human and beast. Behind them came figures in tattered robes, their faces hidden in shadow. "Protect the pack!" Lucien finally managed to shout, his voice sounding distant to his ears. He reached for Fenris, for the shift that would bring his wolf forward, but something blocked him: a cold presence in his mind, like fingers of ice wrapped around his thoughts. You cannot stop what is coming, Alpha of The Crimson Peak. The voice was inside him now, like a freezing whisper that paralysed his limbs. Through the chaos, Lucien saw his pack mates falling. Maddox fought three twisted wolves at once, his powerful form already covered in wounds. Sable's lithe figure darted between attackers, but for everyone he brought down, two more appeared. The moon above began to change, its silver light bleeding into crimson. The red glow bathed the clearing, turning the snow into pools of blood. A figure stepped forward from the mass of attackers: tall and regal, with antlers crowning its head like a twisted king. A bone mask hid its face, but Lucien felt its gaze boring into him. "The seal weakens," it said, its voice like stones grinding together. The moon turns. And one among you will open the way." The figure raised a gnarled staff, and the ground split open beneath Lucien's feet. As he fell into darkness, he caught one last glimpse of the blood-red moon and heard a last whisper: Find her before it's too late. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lucien jerked awake with a roar, his claws extended and his eyes flashing gold in the darkness of his bedroom. Fenris howled within him, still caught in the terror of his dream. For several heartbeats, Lucien couldn't separate reality from the nightmare. The lingering scent of ash and blood overwhelmed his senses. "Alpha!" The door burst open, and Maddox rushed in, shirtless and armed with a silver dagger. His Beta's eyes scanned the room for threats before settling on Lucien. "I heard you call out." Lucien forced his breathing to steady, willing his claws to retract. "A nightmare," he said, his voice rough. "Nothing more." But even as he spoke the words, he knew they were a lie. The nightmare had felt too real, too visceral. And the voice, that ancient cold voice, still echoed in his mind. Maddox lowered his weapon but didn't relax. "This is the third night this week, Lucien. The entire east wing heard you this time." Lucien swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Has there been any word from the border patrols?" "All quiet," Maddox replied, but his expression remained troubled. But Sable returned from the northern ridge an hour ago. He says the moon looks... different." Lucien's head snapped up. "Different how?" "A reddish tinge around the edges. Barely noticeable to most, but—" "But not to our Gamma," Lucien finished. Sable's eyesight was legendary among the pack. A heavy silence fell between them, broken only when a soft knock came at the door. Zephyra stood in the doorway, her silver-streaked dark hair loose around her shoulders, concern etched on her face. "Another one?" she asked simply. Lucien nodded, not bothering to hide the truth from his sister. Zephyra had always seen through his pretences anyway. She entered the room closing the door behind her. "The pack is restless. Three others woke from nightmares tonight. All with the same images. Blood moon. Twisted wolves. A figure with antlers." Lucien exchanged a sharp glance with Maddox. "The same dream?" "Too similar to be a coincidence," Zephyra confirmed. "Dad has been locked in the archives since sunset, consulting the old texts. He won't say why, but I've never seen him so... unsettled." Lucien stood, moving to the window. The moon hung in the sky, and though it appeared normal to his eyes, he couldn't shake the image of it bleeding red. "Gather the pack," he decided. "And send for Sable. I want to hear exactly what he saw." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When the pack members assembled, the council room was thick with tension. Lucien sat at the head of the ancient oak table, his father Orion to his right, silent and grave. Maddox and Sable flanked him on the left, while Zephyra stood by the hearth, her keen eyes observing the others. In the shadows at the far end of the table sat Jonathan Blackwood, Orion's younger brother and Lucien's uncle. Unlike the others who leaned forward with open concern, Jonathan maintained a careful distance, with an unreadable expression beneath his salt-and-pepper beard. As the pack's diplomat, he had always kept his own counsel, but lately, Lucien had sensed a growing reservation in his uncle that went beyond his usual caution. "Tell them what you saw, Sable," Lucien instructed. The Gamma straightened, his voice clear and precise. "I was patrolling the northern ridge when I noticed a red halo around the moon, faint but unmistakable. At first, I thought it might be dusted in the air or some atmospheric disturbance, but..." He hesitated. "Go on," Orion prompted, speaking for the first time. "The animals were behaving strangely. The forest went quiet, like before a storm. And there was a scent I couldn't place…something old and... wrong." Sable's usual confidence wavered. "I've never encountered anything like it." Murmurs rippled through the gathered wolves. Lucien raised a hand for the crowd to be silent. "And the dreams?" he asked, looking around the table. "Who else has experienced them?" Reluctantly, hands rose, and there were more than Lucien had expected. Nearly half the pack admitted to nightmares, each describing elements that matched his dream with chilling accuracy. "This is no coincidence," Maddox growled. "Something is targeting the pack." "Or warning us," Zephyra countered. She moved to stand beside her father, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Dad, you've been researching something. What have you found?" All eyes turned to Orion Blackwood. The former Alpha looked older than Lucien had ever seen him, the weight of knowledge heavy on his shoulders. "There is a prophecy," Orion began, his deep voice resonating inside the full room. "One I had hoped was merely a legend. It speaks of when the moon turns to blood and the ancient enemy stirs beneath the earth." "What ancient enemy?" one of the older members demanded. "The texts call it many names: the Primordial, the First Corruption, the Antlered King." Orion's gaze met Lucien's. "The Moon Goddess herself imprisoned it thousands of years ago, sealing it away because of the malice it spread among our kind." Lucien felt Fenris stir uneasily within him. "And the prophecy says this entity will return?" "When the moon bleeds red," Orion confirmed grimly. "And when a traitor from among the wolf packs breaks the final seal." The chamber erupted in voices: accusations, questions, denials. Lucien slammed his fist on the table, the crack of splintering wood silencing the chaos. "We will not turn on each other," he commanded, his Alpha voice brooking no argument. "That is exactly what this entity would want to achieve. Division and mistrust." "Then what do you propose, Alpha?" asked the elder pack member, his tone respectful but challenging. Lucien stood, drawing all eyes to him. "We increase patrols. We consult with the pack's historians and the High Priest. And we reach out to the other packs. If necessary, we call the werewolf Council to adjourn." This last suggestion caused another stir of protest. "The other packs have been our rivals for generations," Maddox reminded him, though his tone suggested he already knew Lucien's mind was made up. "And if this threat is real, it will come for all wolves, not just our Crimson Peak," Lucien countered. "We need allies, not enemies." "Even Silverwood?" Sable asked quietly, naming their oldest rivals. Lucien's jaw tightened. The history between Crimson Peak and Silverwood ran deep with blood and broken trusts. But beyond the territorial disputes and ancient feuds lay a personal wound that had never healed: the disappearance of his mother fifteen years ago and the whispers that Theron Valerius, Alpha of Silverwood, had orchestrated her death to weaken Crimson Peak during a time of succession. "Especially Silverwood," Orion interjected before Lucien could respond, his voice carrying the weight of his years. "Their territory borders the ancient grounds where legends say they imprisoned the Primordial." Jonathan leaned forward, his eyes glinting with an unreadable emotion. "Brother, you cannot seriously consider an alliance with the pack that…" He stopped abruptly, glancing at Lucien. "The pack that what, Uncle?" Lucien challenged Jonathan barely containing the rage in his voice. "The pack that took my mother from us and left her fate a mystery that still haunts us?" A heavy silence fell over the room. Zephyra reached out, placing a calming hand on Lucien's arm. "We have no proof of Silverwood's involvement," she reminded him gently. "And if the threat is as grave as you believe, we must set aside old grudges." "Proof or not," Lucien growled, "I have not forgotten. Nor forgiven." Orion sighed deeply. "I will draft a message to Theron Valerius," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "But, Lucien…" he hesitated, "...the legends also speak of another element. A key to either the Primordial's release or its final defeat." "What key?" Zephyra asked. "Not what, but who," Orion corrected. "A wolf of rare power, one whose bloodline traces back to the Moon Goddess herself." Lucien remembered the final whisper from his dream: Find her before it's too late. "We need to find this wolf," he declared. "Before the enemy does." As the council continued to debate, no one noticed the shadow that briefly passed by the high window of the chamber, nor the pair of eyes that gleamed red in the darkness before vanishing into the night. In his mind, Lucien heard the whisper again: The moon has turned. The seal weakens. And one among you will open the way. The hunt had begun.