Crimson Vows

Chapter Two: Moonlit Whispers

As the moon reached its zenith, silver light bathed the forest surrounding Silverwood territory. Elara Valerius stood motionless at her bedroom window, pressing her slender fingers against the cool glass. Lately, sleep had become her enemy; it became a gateway to visions that left her trembling and disoriented. Tonight would be no different; she could feel it in the hollow ache behind her ribs.

"Not again," she whispered while watching her breath fog the window. "Please, not tonight."

But the exhaustion of three sleepless nights weighed her like a physical burden. After a while her eyelids grew heavy despite her resistance, and the familiar pull of slumber tempted her. With a resigned sigh, Elara turned from the window and walked to her bed, sinking into the soft furs that offered comfort but not the protection she needed from what she would face in her dreams.

As her consciousness slipped away, the familiar sensation of falling enveloped her. The darkness behind her eyelids transformed, not into the comforting void of dreamless sleep but into a foreign and eerily familiar landscape.

Elara.

Someone called her name in a voice woven from the moonlight, and it echoed through the dreamscape. She was standing in a clearing she had never seen before, yet it felt so familiar. Ancient trees with silver bark formed a perfect circle around her. Their branches reached toward a blood-red moon that hung impossibly large in the night sky.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the fear coiling in her stomach. Her wolf Luna stirred restlessly, sensing the danger and something else, something that called her being’s most primal part making her shiver with fear.

Find me.

The voice was closer now, a masculine timbre that resonated with an authority that made her wolf whine with recognition. A figure began to materialise at the edge of the clearing: tall, broad-shouldered, shrouded in shadows that seemed to cling to him like a second skin.

"Who are you?" Elara demanded, taking an involuntary step forward. "What do you want from me?"

The seal weakens. The darkness rises. Find me before it's too late.

The figure extended a hand toward her, and for a brief moment, the shadows receded enough for her to glimpse his eyes that burned like amber fire in the darkness. Something about those eyes struck her with the force of familiarity, although she was positive she had never seen them.

The ground beneath her feet began to tremble. Cracks appeared in the earth, spreading outward from where she stood like a spiderweb of fracturing reality. From these fissures rose a thick, black substance that moved with sentient purpose: not liquid, not smoke, but something that existed between states of matter.

They sense you. They know what you are.

The shadowy tendrils reached for her ankles and touched her skin, cold as death. Elara tried to move, to run, but found herself rooted to the spot as the darkness began to climb her legs, wrapping around her like living chains.

"What am I?" she gasped, struggling against the inexorable pull. "Tell me!"

The figure took another step forward, and this time she could make out more of his features: strong jawline, high cheekbones, lips pressed into a grim line. His eyes held hers, filled with an urgency that transcended the dreamscape.

The key. The last of the Moon Goddess' direct bloodline. The one who can either seal the Primordial away forever or release it fully into this world.

The darkness had reached her waist now, its cold embrace stealing her breath. In desperation, Elara reached toward the mysterious figure, their fingertips almost touching across the diminishing space between them.

Find me, Elara, before they find you.

Just as their fingers were about to meet, the darkness surged upward, engulfing her. Elara's scream died in her throat as she was pulled downward, away from the figure, away from the blood-red moon, into an abyss that seemed to have no end.

She awoke with a violent jolt, her body drenched in cold sweat and her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Luna howled within her, demanding to be released, responding to a threat that lingered even in their waking. With trembling hands, Elara pushed back the furs and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, trying to ground herself in reality.

"Another nightmare," she murmured, though she knew she was deceiving herself. These were not ordinary nightmares. They carried the weight of a prophecy, of a warning. She could sense it.

A soft knock at her door startled her. "Elara?" Her father's voice sounded concerned. "Are you alright? I heard you cry out."

Composing herself, Elara crossed the room and opened the door to find Theron Valerius, Alpha of the Silverwood Pack, standing in the hallway. His silver-streaked dark hair was disheveled, and the lines around his eyes seemed deeper than usual, clear evidence of his own troubled sleep.

"Another nightmare?" he asked, his keen eyes taking in her pallor and the slight tremor in her hands.

Elara nodded, not trusting her voice just yet. Her father's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Come," he said. "Dawn is not far off, and I find tea helps to chase away the shadows of bad dreams."

She followed him down the hallway of their sprawling home, built generations ago from the silver wood that gave their territory its name. The main living area was warm. A fire still burned low in the massive stone hearth. Theron gestured for her to sit while he busied himself preparing tea, a rare domestic task for the Alpha to perform himself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his back to her as he worked.

Elara hesitated. Her father had always been protective, perhaps too much since her mother's death when Elara was a child. These dreams, which mentioned old dangers and her possible part in a big battle between good and evil, made her even more alert and watchful.

"It was the same as before," she admitted finally." The red moon, the darkness rising from the earth. But this time... this time there was someone else. A man I couldn't quite see clearly. He asked me to find him."

Theron turned with a neutral expression as he placed a steaming mug of tea before her. "A man? Did he identify himself?"

"No." Elara wrapped her hands around the warm mug, drawing comfort from its heat.

"But he knew me. He called me by name. And he said..." She paused, uncertain whether to continue.

"What did he say, Elara?" Her father's tone had sharpened slightly, his Alpha authority bleeding through his paternal concern.

"He said I'm the key. That I'm the last of the Moon Goddess' direct bloodlines." Her words hung heavily in the air between them.

"Dad, what did he mean? You've always told me our lineage is special, but you've never explained why."

Theron's face had gone very still. His eyes were fixed on some middle distance as if seeing something beyond the confines of their home. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

"There are things I've kept from you, Elara. Not out of deception, but out of love… and fear. I had hoped..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "But it seems the time for sheltering you has passed."

He moved to sit across from her, his hands clasped tightly before him.

"Our family line does indeed trace back to the Moon Goddess herself. The legends say that thousands of years ago, she walked among mortals and fell in love with a wolf shifter with extraordinary courage. They bore children blessed with unique gifts such as heightened connection to the moon and rare abilities that the other shifters could only dream of possessing."

Elara listened spellbound as her father continued.

"Over generations, that bloodline thinned and the gifts became rarer. But a child who carries the Goddess' essence is born every few centuries. A child marked by the crescent birthmark." His eyes flicked to Elara's wrist, where the small, silver crescent had been present since birth.

"You've always told me it was just a birthmark," she said accusingly.

"I wanted to protect you from the burden of knowing what it meant," Theron replied regretfully.

"The last wolf who bore that mark was hunted mercilessly by those who sought to use her power for their evil plans. Your grandmother."

Elara's breath caught. "What happened to her?"

"She sacrificed herself to reinforce a seal… a magical barrier that has kept imprisoned for millennia an ancient evil. An entity the old texts call the Primordial, a being of pure darkness that existed before the Moon Goddess brought light to our kind."

The parallels to her nightmare were too precise to be coincidence. Elara felt a chill run down her spine despite the warmth of the fire. "And now the seal is weakening."

It wasn't a question, but Theron nodded grimly. "I felt it. Many of the older Alphas have. Strange occurrences in the territories, wolves going missing, the unnatural silence in the forests at night."

"The man in my dream said I need to find him before THEY find me," Elara said. "Who are THEY, Dad?"

Theron's expression darkened. "There have always been those who worship the darkness, who believe the Primordial's return will grant them power beyond imagining. They call themselves the Void Walkers. If your dreams are true prophecies, they will seek you Elara. As the last direct descendant, your blood is the key to either strengthening the seal or completely breaking it."

A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire. Elara's mind raced, trying to process everything she had learned. The weight of her destiny settled on her shoulders like a physical burden.

"What do we do?" she finally asked.

A sharp knock at the front door startled them both. It was too early for casual visitors. They exchanged a wary glance as Theron rose to answer.

At the door stood Kian, one of the pack's senior guards with a grave expression. "Alpha," he said with a respectful nod.

"A messenger arrived at our borders just minutes ago. He brought this." Kian extended his hand, holding a sealed letter.

Theron took it, breaking the wax seal that bore the unmistakable emblem of the Crimson Peak Pack, a wolf howling beneath a blood-red moon. As he unfolded the message and began to read, Elara watched the colour drain from her father's face.

"Dad?" she asked, rising from her seat. "What is it?"

Theron looked up, his eyes meeting hers with an expression that sent ice through her veins. She had never seen fear before in her Alpha father's gaze.

"It's from Orion Blackwood," he said in a barely audible voice, the tremor betraying his terror. "The Crimson Peak Alpha calls all the pack leaders for an emergency council."

"The Crimson Peak pack?" Elara gasped. Her hand flew to her throat as a wave of anxiety crashed through her. The Silverwood pack never mentioned their oldest enemies. No one wanted anything to do with the Crimson Peak pack. Her wolf stirred restlessly beneath her skin, sensing the gravity of the letter sent to them by their enemies.

Theron nodded grimly. "The ancient prophecies are becoming real. The Primordial is awakening."

The letter trembled violently in his hand as he added, "And they believe they know the identity of the one who can stop it."

As the news sank in, Elara felt the ground beneath her shift. Her heart pounded as she realised the truth. The man from her dreams, who reached for her across the distance with his amber eyes full of urgency, was unmistakable.

"Blackwood." She whispered the name that sent chills down her spine. "The man in my nightmare: He's from the Crimson Peak pack."