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Moonlight Forbidden

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Blurb

The leader of a wolf-shifter pack in the Northern Forest, encounters Viktor, an injured vampire exiled from his clan. Despite their natural distrust, Lyra tends to Viktor's wounds and they form a bond. As tensions rise between their communities, they keep their meetings secret. Rumors of "monsters" in the human village and mysterious deaths in both wolf and vampire lands prompt Lyra and Viktor to uncover a sinister plot. They navigate clan politics, battle on the battlefield, and finally unmask the puppet master behind it all. With the threat defeated, Lyra and Viktor forge a united new order, despite uncertainties, and step into a bright new dawn together.

Lyra :

Leader of the wolf-shifter pack in the Northern Forest. Fiercely independent and wary of outsiders.

Victor:

A vampire Noble who has been exiled from his clan. Melancholy and tormented by his mysterious past. Craves redemption and returning to his former status. Deeply drawn to Lyra's wild spirit.

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Chapter 1 - A Chance Encounter
Chapter 1 - A Chance Encounter The forest was silent as Lyra quietly stalked her prey through the moss-coated trees. Her lean, tawny frame blended seamlessly into the dappled shadows, only the glints of steel in her leaf-green eyes giving away her position. The doe she had been tracking for hours now grazed unaware in a small clearing up ahead. Lyra crouched low, took aim with her bow and let the arrow fly. It pierced the doe's flank with merciful speed, dropping it instantly. Lyra gave thanks to the Moon Mother for providing this bounty as was their sacred tradition. Securing her kill, Lyra paused, alerted by an unusual smell upon the breeze. Blood, but not of any creature native to these woods. Following her keen nose, she tracked the aberrant scent westward until finding its source deep in a dense copse. Through the thicket, a slumped shape came into view. A man lay sprawled and unmoving, vivid scratches marring his ashen skin. Lyra knew supernatural predators roamed these borders but this particular man was foreign to her. She noted his finely wrought leather armor, etched with an elaborate insignia. Clearly no mere woodsman but one of the pale-faced vampire folk who dwelled far to the north in their cold citadels of granite and ice. What business could one of their ilk have so far from home in her forest domain? Lyra's instincts told her to leave this stranger to his fate. Yet her heart could not allow an injured soul to perish untreated, regardless of kind. With a heavy sigh, she hoisted the pale man over her shoulders and began the long trek back to her hidden valley stronghold where her wolf pack had rendezvoused this moon cycle. The dense trees parted eventually to reveal a cascading waterfall that tumbled mistily into a crystal clear pool. Beyond its shore lay a gently sloping meadow and the craggy entrance to the sea cave called Lyra den, now aglow with the sunset's vermilion light. Entering, she laid the vampire gently down upon the soft furs as curious eyes of her clan watched from the rocky alcoves. "Stay back until I've tended him," she warned. Only her second, Rowan, a towering granite wolf, joined her side without fear or prejudice. Examining the wounds more closely, Lyra detected claw marks consistent with a territorial mountain bear or rogue skinwalker gone feral. She cleaned and dressed them efficiently with herbs from her pharmacopia before retreating to consult with Rowan. "What business does one of the Pale Ones have so far from the north?" he rumbled thoughtfully. "Could be a scout, though none would stray so far alone." "I know not," said Lyra, staring into the crackling firepit. "But whoever or whatever attacks him cares not for borders. Strange portents stir in the wood of late." She frowned, troubled. Their valley had known peace for generations since the Great Schism divided lycanthropes from vampires in ages past. But whispers from her scouts spoke of roused beasts and men alike in lands nearby, as if dark magic soured the winds of change. Whatever tribulations had led this outsider to their doorstep, Lyra vowed to uncover the truth once he awoke. For now, she kept a silent vigil by his side through the night, content to let the mysteries be unveiled in their own time. The vampire's pallid form remained deathly still save for the faintest rise and fall of breath. Only when pale dawnlight stole into the cavern did stirred signs of life return to his wounds. A low moan escaped chalky lips as violet eyes fluttered open at last to meet Lyra's gray gaze questioning above. "Be at ease, you are safe here," she said gently yet firmly, lending him a skin of water. "Drink and regain your strength stranger, then we shall speak." The vampire did as bidden and Lyra noted no trace of lingering bloodlust or malice in his manner, only bewilderment. Perhaps this one could prove different from the stories. She waited patiently for his recovery, intrigued to learn what fateful course had brought their peoples together once more after so long apart. For now, a fragile spark of understanding blossomed between these unlikely souls, the first glimmers of what was yet to come under Moonlight Forbidden. kwentista @2023

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