Chapter 2 The Forsaken Alpha

The wind howled as the hunters fled, their footsteps crashing through the underbrush like panicked deer. They hadn't expected her to shift. They hadn't expected her.

Elara stood at the center of the clearing, still in wolf form, panting from the transformation. Every nerve hummed, every scent screamed into her brain. The world was louder, wilder, alive in ways she'd never known. She could hear Fenric's heartbeat steadying. She could taste the metallic tang of the hunters' fear lingering in the air.

And yet, even now, a question echoed in her mind:

What have I become?

The silver wolf in her chest pulsed with power, but her human self-a voice buried behind instinct and heat-was trembling. She had shifted, yes. But it wasn't gentle or graceful like the stories. It was fire and fury. Like something had broken loose inside her.

She turned to Fenric, who now stood silent, watching her with a strange calm. His silver eyes glinted with more than approval. They held awe. And something else. Worry.

"Shift back," he said softly, though she wasn't sure how he expected her to do that. "Don't fight it. Just... feel it."

Elara closed her eyes. She thought of her name. Her breath. The scar on her wrist. The coldness of her aunt's home. The warmth of her mother's lullaby. Slowly, painfully, her body began to change.

Bones shrank. Fur receded. Her thoughts cleared.

And then she was kneeling in the frost, human once more, trembling and bare. Fenric didn't gawk or leer. Instead, he turned and retrieved a black cloak from behind one of the stone pillars. He draped it over her shoulders without a word.

She stared at her hands. They felt the same-and yet not. Her veins still buzzed with whatever had been awakened.

"What am I?" she whispered.

Fenric crouched beside her. "You're what they feared. You're Moonblood."

She looked up. "But what is that? They said it meant cursed. That I was broken."

He shook his head. "No. They lied. You weren't broken. You were bound-sealed with blood magic the day you were born. Your wolf wasn't missing. It was caged."

Her stomach turned. "By who?"

Fenric's jaw tensed. "The High Circle of Elders. The ruling council. They wanted to erase the bloodline of the Old Moon. Your mother... she tried to protect you. She hid you among humans, hoping the bond would fade. But your blood called out."

"My mother?" Elara's throat tightened. "You knew her?"

He nodded slowly. "I fought beside her once. Before she vanished. She was the last Moonblood before you. But even she feared what the prophecy foretold."

"What prophecy?"

Fenric stood. "Not here. Come. We need to move."

She rose shakily, pulling the cloak tighter. "Where?"

"To the Forsaken Lands."

Elara hesitated. The name alone stirred stories she'd heard as a child-ruins swallowed by mist, wolves who'd gone mad, cursed lands where nothing grew.

"Isn't that... where the cursed live?"

Fenric smirked faintly. "That's what they want you to believe. But it's where the truth lives. And if you want to survive, you'll need it."

The trees whispered around them as they walked, branches shifting like watchful eyes. Elara tried not to think about how many hunters had seen her shift. How many would report it. How long before the Circle sent others-stronger, deadlier, more prepared.

She had lived quietly for so long, thinking her life would be small. Now she had shifted into something ancient, something forbidden, and every part of her world had shattered.

They walked in silence for a long while, until the trees thinned and the mist thickened. The air grew colder, and the ground took on a faint shimmer-like frost and moonlight had been woven together.

Suddenly, the forest opened into a vast canyon cloaked in fog.

Below them was a city.

It was nothing like the neat human towns or the fortified villages of the known packs. This place was older. Wilder. Winding paths cut between towers carved into rock. Glowing symbols lit doorways. Wolves and humans moved freely among each other, speaking in hushed tones, some armored, others robed.

Elara stepped forward, stunned.

"Welcome to Duskvale," Fenric said. "Home of the Forsaken Pack."

She couldn't believe her eyes. She had always thought the Forsaken were scattered rogues-dangerous and unhinged. This was a sanctuary. A place of power.

As they descended into the city, whispers followed them.

"That's her."

"The Moonblood?"

"She awakened under the red moon."

Elara kept her eyes ahead. Each step felt heavier. Every stare reminded her she didn't understand what she had become. But a part of her-the wolf inside-stood proud.

They stopped before a massive stone hall guarded by two cloaked sentinels. They bowed to Fenric, who nodded once and led her through iron doors etched with runes.

Inside, the chamber was dimly lit by moonstones set into the walls. At the center stood a circular table, and seated around it were five individuals-each radiating authority. They looked older than most, but sharp-eyed and alert. Warriors. Leaders.

Fenric gestured to them. "The Council of the Lost."

A woman with braids and sharp green eyes rose. "So, this is the girl," she said, voice steady. "She doesn't look like a threat."

Elara bristled. "I didn't ask to be one."

A man with silver-threaded hair leaned forward. "And yet here you are, making enemies of the Circle."

Fenric stepped in. "They would have killed her. Just for being born."

The woman narrowed her eyes at Elara. "Do you know what it means to carry the Moonblood?"

"No," Elara said honestly.

The woman walked slowly toward her. "Then listen closely."

She raised her hand, and the runes on the wall brightened, revealing a mural etched in stone.

It showed a woman cloaked in light, standing between two wolves-one silver, one black. Beneath them, a river of blood.

"In the beginning," the woman said, "there were two primal bloodlines-Sunfang and Moonblood. One ruled with order. The other with wildness. When war came, the Sunfangs allied with the elders. The Moonbloods refused to bow. So the elders wiped them out."

Elara stared at the mural. The woman in the middle looked eerily familiar.

"They didn't succeed," the man at the table said. "Your mother survived. And now... so have you."

"But why?" Elara asked. "Why are they so afraid of us?"

The woman looked at her, eyes sharp. "Because Moonblood doesn't follow their laws. You do not bind to a mate by decree. You do not serve under an Alpha by force. Your blood chooses. Your power bends the natural order."

Elara's voice was barely a whisper. "Then what happens now?"

The woman's smile was grim. "Now the Circle will come for you."

Fenric stepped forward. "Then we make our move first."

"You want war?" the man asked.

"I want freedom," Fenric said.

Elara looked between them. She had never held a sword. She had never been part of a pack, let alone led one. But now she was standing on the edge of a rising storm, her blood called ancient, her soul awakened.

She had been silent too long.

"If I'm the heir to something," she said, voice shaking but firm, "then teach me what it means. Because I won't be hunted again. And I won't run."

Fenric met her gaze, and for the first time, his expression softened.

"We will teach you," he said. "But understand this: you're not just a girl anymore. You're not just a wolf. You're a symbol. And symbols... start revolutions."

The council members nodded solemnly. The decision was made.

Outside, the moon had begun to fade. But the dawn did not bring peace.

It brought the promise of reckoning.