Prologue
Prologue
“Two wolves will emerge on the day of the crimson blood moon. On that night, the moon will burn red, the seas will run with blood, the birds will fall silent, and even the wind will stand still. One wolf will rise for greatness, the other for destruction. During their birth… the Great Purge will unfold…”
Lady Evelin of the House of Hawthorne whispered the prophecy, her voice trembling. Her eyes slowly closed as she drew her last breath.
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Present Time
Chaos reigned across the lands. The Frostmoon Pack—the white wolves—screamed in terror, scattering as the Nightfang Pack, their grey-furred enemies, and the Silver Claw Pack, the black wolves, rained c*****e upon them. Bodies littered the ground, blood soaking the earth, while families fled in desperation.
Darius Hawthorne, leader of the Nightfang Pack, emerged triumphant, holding the head of the Frostmoon Pack’s leader. The howls of his pack echoed through the night as crimson blood dripped onto the soil. The earth shook, the moon turned an even deeper shade of red—the first time in centuries. Birds were silent, the wind stilled, and rivers ran like blood.
With the chaos, the ancient seals guarding the underworld began to stir. The Silver Seal, which imprisoned the Underworld King of the Red Demons, shattered. The Golden and Crystal Seals—crafted by the Nightfang and Frostmoon Packs under the Council of Elders’ guidance—remained intact. The Silver Seal had been maintained by the Silver Claw Pack, the Golden by the Nightfang, and the Crystal by the Frostmoon Pack.
These seals had been designed to protect the werewolf world from the Underworld King’s destruction. While the Nightfang and Silver Claw Packs were unbothered by the Silver Seal’s break, the integrity of the Crystal Seal still held hope.
At the twelfth hour, in the Whitmore residence, cries of a woman in labor echoed through the halls. Inside a chamber prepared for birth, three women worked in secrecy. The mother, sweat-drenched and silver-haired, strained with every push. One woman held her hand, offering reassurance, while the midwife prepared for the arrival.
A baby’s cry filled the room, bringing relief and fear in equal measure.
“Bring her…” the mother whispered weakly. “We must hide her identity… block her powers.”
Together, the women sealed the newborn’s powers, ensuring the infant’s safety. Exhausted, the mother slumped onto the bed. Her baby nearly slipped from her grasp, but the midwives caught her in time.
“Val… Valeria…” the mother gasped, shaking one midwife.
“She’s gone…” the midwife said softly, checking for a pulse.
“No… my daughter in law… she’s dead!” the mother screamed, breaking down in tears.
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At that very twelfth hour, under the same crimson blood moon, the Nightfang leader Darius Hawthorne welcomed his fifth son into the world. The newborn’s hand bore fur of grey and white—a sight unseen in centuries. But as fate would have it, all the midwives present that night were killed, leaving only questions and prophecy in their wake.
Who will wreak havoc, and who will save the world from the impending doom?
