Chapter 1 1

Chapter One: The Night the Moon Wept

The forest was too quiet.

Kael crouched low beneath the cover of twisted pines, his keen werewolf senses sweeping through the silence like blades through mist. Every sound-the rustle of leaves, the creak of bark-was amplified by the tension hanging in the air. The scent of blood tainted the wind, bitter and metallic, carried from the direction of Eldergrove.

He knew something terrible had happened. The elders had felt it in their bones hours before the first raven came bearing the crimson-stained scroll: The village burns. They have returned.

Eldergrove was sacred ground-neutral territory. It was the only place where werewolves and vampires had once shared uneasy peace after the Treaty of Black Hollow ended centuries of bloodshed. Now, Kael stood at its outskirts, his claws half-shifted, golden eyes glowing in the darkness. Behind him, warriors from his pack emerged, each one radiating fury and grief.

Smoke curled into the sky like ghostly fingers. The village was aflame, cottages collapsed into glowing embers. Charred bodies littered the paths, some human, some wolf. And some-he could smell it-vampire. But the blood told the story clearly: the attack had come from the shadows, sudden and vicious.

Kael stepped through the ruined square, his boots crunching ash and bone. The scent of lavender caught his nose-a scent he remembered from his childhood, from the merchant woman who sold healing herbs to both species without fear. Her cart lay overturned, her lifeless body slumped beside it, throat torn open.

"They knew," growled Brynn, his second-in-command, kneeling beside the corpse. "They knew she was neutral. They killed her anyway."

Kael said nothing. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. He walked further, past the burned chapel and the old fountain, now cracked and dry. There, near the well, lay the body of a child-no older than six-still clutching a wooden wolf carved as a toy. Kael's heart broke, then hardened.

"It wasn't just an ambush," he said finally. "It was a message."

Brynn stood, his face pale with rage. "They want war."

Kael turned to face him. "Then war is what they'll get."

---

It hadn't always been this way.

A hundred years ago, the Great War between werewolves and vampires had nearly destroyed both races. Villages burned. Blood soaked the soil. Too many lives were lost before the elders forged the fragile Treaty of Black Hollow. The terms were simple: no werewolf would cross into vampire territory without permission, and no vampire would hunt beneath the moon without cause. Eldergrove, built at the edge of both domains, would serve as a sanctuary for traders, exiles, and peace-seekers.

And for nearly fifty years, the peace had held.

Until now.

Kael returned to the heart of the forest as dawn began to break, casting silver over the blackened trees. The Pack of the Ashen Moon had gathered around the sacred stone circle, awaiting his report. Alpha Corvan stood at the center, ancient and scarred, his gray fur streaked with white. His eyes, however, were as sharp as ever.

Kael stepped forward and knelt. "Eldergrove has fallen, Alpha. At least twenty dead. The scent of vampire blood is strong, but... there's something else."

Corvan narrowed his eyes. "Speak."

Kael hesitated. "I smelled something... different. A magic not born of wolf or vampire. Something old."

Murmurs spread through the circle. The older wolves exchanged worried glances.

"You think the Coven used dark magic?" asked Brynn, stepping beside Kael. "They've broken more than the treaty, then. They've disturbed the ancient balance."

Corvan raised his hand for silence. "Do not speak of balance lightly. Not until we are sure."

"But the child-" Kael began, his voice shaking despite himself. "They killed a child, Alpha. A child who bore no fang or claw."

Corvan looked into the distance, his expression hard as stone. "Then the treaty is broken."

He turned to the pack. "Send word to the mountain clans. Light the signal fires. We will summon the High Council. If the vampires seek war, we will not run."

The circle erupted in howls, voices lifting to the rising sun. But Kael remained silent, the image of the child still etched into his mind.

---

Far across the valley, hidden deep within the catacombs beneath the ruined castle of Nocthollow, another figure watched the dawn in silence.

Seraphina stood at the edge of a broken balcony, the sunlight not yet strong enough to reach her pale skin. Her crimson eyes shimmered with sadness as she gazed over the distant smoke rising from Eldergrove.

She hadn't been there. She hadn't ordered it. And yet, the blood of her kind stained the soil alongside the innocents.

Behind her, footsteps echoed through the stone corridor. Lord Malric, her father, entered the chamber. Cold and regal, his long silver hair and robes made him look like a ghost from another era.

"You saw it burn," he said.

"Yes," she replied softly.

"And you understand now why peace is impossible."

Seraphina turned to face him, defiance glinting in her gaze. "You ordered the attack."

"I defended our future," he said, voice cold as steel. "Eldergrove was a lie. The werewolves grow bolder each year. If we do not strike first, we perish."

Seraphina clenched her fists. "You slaughtered children."

"They were wolves."

"They were innocent."

Malric stepped forward, eyes glowing red. "There is no such thing as an innocent wolf."

Seraphina turned away, hiding the tears she would never allow him to see. Somewhere deep in her soul, she felt the earth cry out beneath the bloodshed. Something had awakened that night-something ancient, dark, and hungry.

And as she looked toward the forest, her heart whispered a truth she dared not say aloud:

This war will destroy us all.

---