Prologue
1004 Words
The moon hung low, the full moon casting a silver glow of light across the valley.
No howls tonight - there is only silence. The kind that comes before a storm.
From the north ridge, the Skyveil Pack stood, their eyes locked upon their enemy.
Across the field, the Shadow pack emerges from the darkness of the forest, coming into view under the moonlight.
A young alpha, devastatingly beautiful with golden hair and bright golden eyes, stepped forward from the pack, along with three other much older Alphas behind her, separating them from the entirety of the pack.
Her long golden hair was blown by the winds, her golden eyes sharp. The surrounding warriors shifted, and some growled in response to the opposite group, waiting for the battle to start.
A breeze of cold wind-carrying the scent of death.
Skylinda howled.
The valley erupted,
Wolves surged forward like a tidal wave, their claws out and fangs bared.
The ground shook with the weight of the wolves coming from each side, as if the earth were about to be torn apart.
This night, blood will be spilled until only the winner is left standing.
One must die for the other to survive.
By dawn, only one group would remain.
This is war.
The wind howled as the sound of battle rang out across the battlefield.
Claws met flesh.
Fangs tore through the fur.
Blood flows down like a small river from the wounded and the dead, from enemies and allies alike.
The cheers and cries of battle rang out from every wolf as they fought with their last ounce of strength—either to win or to die.
At the center of it all, Skylinda stood tall. Blood streaked her body and face as she fought alongside the much older Alphas against the evil Alpha of the Duskborn Pack, who had brought fear to the hearts of every wolf.
Her fur matted with blood and dust, her gaze unwavering. She was the youngest Alpha, but her presence commanded respect.
The Duskborn Pack loomed on the opposite ridge, their leader cloaked in darkness, eyes burning with malice.
They had brought chaos to the land, and now, every tribe had come together to stop them.
The Duskborn Pack had spread fear and chaos across the tribes, invading their lands and using their dark charm to lure others into debauchery and senseless bloodshed—all to ensure their own rise to power.
By the time the tribes realized what was happening, they were already caught in the fray. War was inevitable.
Yet under the leadership of a young but courageous Alpha, Skylinda, a fragile truce was forged between the four tribes. She united them and helped them see their true enemy: the Duskborn Pack.
Though younger than the other Alphas, Skylinda had already led her tribe to prosperity. Now, she stood at the center of the alliance, guiding all the tribes into battle against their common foe.
The Alpha of the Duskborn Pack laughed as he faced the worn and weary leaders. It was undeniable—he was the strongest Alpha among them.
“Haha! Is this all you’ve got, you ignorant fools?”
He raised his hand to the sky, laughing mockingly. His voice echoed across the battlefield, heard by all—yet none paused to listen. Each had its own war to fight.
“You are the foolish one,” Skylinda said, her voice steady but solemn. “You don’t even understand what you’ve done.”
“No, you’re the fool,”
The Duskborn Alpha sneered.
"You haven’t tasted the sweetness of power. That’s why you don’t know what it feels like—to have everyone groveling at your feet!”
The other Alphas’ faces darkened, wearied, and grim.
Only Skylinda remained calm, her gaze unwavering.
“True power carries great responsibility—to protect those in need and the weak. But you’ve turned it into a weapon for your own selfishness, greedy…”
She paused, her voice softening, almost wistful.
“…and when you fall, the world will not mourn you. No one will remember you, because you’ve left nothing behind worth remembering.”
Then, with quiet resolve, Skylinda and the other Alphas surged forward—united in battle against the Shadow Alpha.
Battle cries grew louder as sword clangs echoed across the battlefield, mingling with the sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking.
“You are the fool!”
The Duskborn Alpha laughed, effortlessly dodging each attack.
“You’re strong—stronger than these worn-out relics. But you don’t know how to use that strength. You waste it playing house with them.”
The Duskborn Alpha raised his hand—and the battlefield darkened.
Shadowed hands and wisps of smoke surged outward, swirling like a storm. Tendrils of darkness clawed through the air, seizing the older Alphas in a slow-moving prison that tightened with every breath.
But Skylinda moved like the wind.
With the grace of her gift, she slipped past the creeping shadows, untouched and untethered. Her feet barely kissed the ground as she weaved through chaos, a breeze against the storm.
At the heart of the battlefield, she met the Duskborn Alpha blow by blow.
Their weapons clashed in a rhythm too fluid for war—like water meeting water, they fought as if they were dancing.
Wind and shadow sparked with every strike, elemental forces colliding in bursts of light and darkness.
Then came the moment.
A single blow—Skylinda’s wind-infused strike met the Alpha’s shadow-forged blade with full force.
The impact cracked the air.
A shockwave rippled outward, silencing the battlefield. Smoke and dust lifted in a ring around them, frozen mid-motion. For a heartbeat, all eyes turned to the center—where wind and shadow hovered in perfect balance, refusing to break.
Neither yielded.
Neither faltered.
Each blow was answered.
No one was backing down a step.
And in that center of ruin, they moved as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
And...................
- Writer
