Moonstone: Heir of Eternal Night

For thirty-three years, the supernatural world had whispered her name Elara Moonstone. Princess of the Eternal Night Kingdom. Only daughter of King Alaric and Queen Evangeline Moonstone, rulers of every supernatural race beneath the moon. And she was unlike anyone who had ever existed. Elara was a quad-blood—a living impossibility carrying four ancient supernatural bloodlines within her veins. She was vampire. Wolf. Witch. Fae. Four powers that should have destroyed one another. Instead, they had fused together inside her. Her vampire blood gave her immortality and hypnotic power. Her wolf blood gave her extraordinary strength, speed, and a beast that could tear through enchanted steel. Her witch blood allowed her to wield ancient magic. And her fae heritage connected her to the oldest magic in existence. But Elara had inherited something else from her parents. The crown. One day, she would rule the Eternal Night Kingdom. If she survived long enough to take it. Because there was a prophecy. A prophecy that had terrified kings for centuries. When the Moonstone daughter reaches her thirty-third year, five bloodlines shall bow to her heart. Five princes shall become her shield. Five kingdoms shall become one. And from the darkness shall rise the Rogues. If the five fall, the kingdom falls. If the Moonstone falls, the supernatural world ends. Elara had always hated that prophecy. Mostly because she had never believed she would need anyone to save her. She had been wrong. The first time she had heard the prophecy, she had been seven years old. Her father had taken her into the oldest wing of the castle, a place where the walls were carved with the names of dead kings and the windows were sealed with black iron. He had told her it was a history lesson. It had not felt like one. The chamber beneath the castle had been circular, with a ceiling painted to resemble a night sky. No stars moved across it. No moon crossed the painted heavens. Everything remained frozen, as though time itself had been trapped beneath the stone. At the center of the room stood a pedestal made from pale moonstone. Elara remembered reaching toward it. She remembered the cold. She remembered the way every candle had gone out at once. Most of all, she remembered the voice that had spoken from somewhere beneath the floor. Five will come when the moon is full. Five will kneel when the blood is called. But the sixth shall decide whether the world survives. Her father had pulled her away so quickly that she had stumbled against him. "Never come here alone," he had warned. "What lives beneath the castle?" she had asked. His face had changed. Not with anger. With fear. "Nothing that concerns you." Even at seven, Elara had known he was lying. Years later, she would understand that her father had not been afraid of what lived beneath the castle. He had been afraid of what might awaken inside her.