PROLOGUE
231 Words
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Long before the wars carved blood into the soil, before alliances were inked in iron and fire, there were stories told by the first wolves.
Stories of mates bound by stars, of hearts that knew each other across lifetimes, and of scars so deep they shaped not just flesh, but destiny itself.
They said the moon chose the worthy.
They said the moon spared no one.
Aria never believed in those stories.
Not when her mother’s life spilled into the snow, staining it crimson.
Not when her father's grief hardened into cruelty, hollowing their home into an unlit tomb.
Not when the pack that should have protected her turned their faces away.
Love, destiny, the moon’s favor — they were fairy tales for those born lucky.
For the rest, there was only survival.
And so she learned not to hope.
She learned not to dream.
Until the night she shifted beneath a red harvest moon, and the world changed with a breath.
Until the moment she locked eyes with a man of wild gold and silver flame.
Until the moment she realized that no scar, no silence, no wall built high enough could stop what was coming.
For some bonds are older than betrayal.
Some fires refuse to be extinguished.
And some wolves — no matter how broken — are born to rise.
Even if it costs them everything.
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- Writer
