Her pulse thrummed against her ribs as she stepped into the vaulted briefing chamber. The torches lining the walls cast flickering shadows across her determined face. Aria clutched her notebook in one hand and settled herself on a wooden bench opposite the Alpha Council. Lucian Grey stood beside her, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the gathered elders. The air tasted of incense and iron—a reminder that secrets were often paid for in blood.
"Ms. Blackwell," intoned the ice-blonde woman from the dais—High Seeress Elara—her voice as cool as moonlight on still water. "Now that you have pledged your cooperation, it is time to understand why you were drawn into our world." She gestured to a rusted iron brazier at her feet. From its embers, a tendril of silver mist curled upward.
Aria tilted her head. "I'm listening."
Elara waved a slender hand. The smoke thickened into shapes: lupine silhouettes, interlocking rings, and a lone wolf beneath a crescent moon. The chamber fell silent but for the hiss of embers. Aria's breath caught. She'd documented rumors of a hidden bloodline, but nothing on this scale.
"This," Elara said, voice low, "is the Crest of the Moonbound. It marks a lineage—and you, Aria Blackwell, bear its blood." The Seeress's eyes glowed silver. "You carry the dormant strand of the Sovereign's line."
Heat climbed Aria's neck. She pressed her pen to paper, hands steady despite the revelation. "Dormant strand?" she repeated. "I'm not werewolf."
A soft chuckle rippled through the council. Lucian's eyes flickered to her. He inclined his head, ever the silent ally. Elara resumed, eyes fixed on Aria. "Your human form conceals your heritage. One in ten thousand among your kind is such a vessel. When moonlight saturates your veins, the bond unlocks."
Aria's mind whirled. Images of her childhood flickered—an inexplicable affinity with wolves on nature documentaries, dreams of silver fur brushing against her. She'd dismissed them as daydreams. Now they took shape. "You mean I can shift?"
Elara's lips curved. "When the time is right. But first, you must understand the prophecy." She signaled an advisor, who stepped forward with an ancient leather-bound grimoire. He laid it before Aria and Lucian, and snapped it open upon a weathered page.
Aria leaned forward. The script was elegant yet archaic, inked in silver. A diagram depicted three wolves: one crowned, one crowned faintly, one crowned in darkness. Beneath, the prophecy was inscribed in Old Lycan:
> "When blood of mortal and moon's royal line unite,
A Sovereign shall rise to end eternal night."
Elara's voice wove over the text. "The first wolf is the true Alpha—Lucian Grey, heir to Silverclaw's throne. The second is the half-blood, born of union between clans—he awakens in times of turmoil. The third, the human vessel, heralds the new era."
Aria's breath stuttered. "So I'm the third wolf?" She traced the faded ink with a trembling finger. "But if I'm just a herald, what can I do?"
Elara's gaze softened. "Your purpose is unity. Without the third wolf, the other two cannot bind their powers fully. You anchor their strengths, guide their destinies."
Lucian's posture softened slightly. He stepped forward, voice quiet but firm. "Aria, you are the linchpin. Our packs are fractured—Silverclaw wary of Crescent's ambition. The enemy that just attacked… it was the Blackspire faction. They will exploit any division." His gaze met hers. "With your bond, we can forge a true alliance."
Aria swallowed, heart pounding. She scribbled notes furiously. "And until my shift… how do I help?"
Elara rose and approached the brazier, lifting a silver chalice. The mist coalesced around it. She handed it to Aria. "Drink. This elixir carries moonwater gathered during the last lunar eclipse. It will awaken your senses—heighten perception. But use it sparingly."
Aria hesitated, then lifted the chalice. The liquid shimmered like liquid moonlight. She drew a breath and drank. A chill spread through her veins, followed by a warmth that settled in her chest. Her vision sharpened; each torch flame burned bright against the stone. She blinked, astonished.
"Your first taste of royalty," Elara whispered. "In time, its true power will bloom."
Aria set the chalice aside and blinked. Colors deepened; she noticed carvings on the walls she hadn't before: a howling wolf whose eyes seemed to follow her. Her fingers tingled. She realized then that even her fingertips pulsed with energy.
Lucian stepped forward, concern flickering in his silver eyes. "Are you well?"
She nodded, though words caught in her throat. "I—yes. Stronger than I've ever felt."
The council murmured approval and caution. Elara gestured to a map spread across a nearby table: hand-drawn borders marked Crescent territory, Silverclaw strongholds, and sites of recent skirmishes. "This is your chance, Aria," she said. "With your sight, we can anticipate Blackspire's next move. Guide our scouts. Document their patterns."
Aria approached the map, absorbing every line. She placed a finger on the eastern border. "Here. Their assault came from those woods." She tapped another spot. "And here—supply lines cross the river. They'll strike again."
A younger advisor stepped forward. "Your insight is uncanny for a human." He frowned. "Could it be… more than elixir?"
Aria's gaze hardened. "No. I'm not Lycana by birth—yet. But that doesn't make me less capable." She drew in a steady breath. "I'm a journalist. Gathering facts, connecting dots—that's what I do."
Elara inclined her head. "Good. We will dispatch scouts under your guidance. You ride with them at dawn. But know this: the Blackspire attack will escalate. Prepare accordingly."
Aria met Lucian's eyes. He inclined his head once, a silent promise of support. Her heart thudded with exhilaration and dread. She had stepped into prophecy, yet she remained tethered to her human principles. She would not become a pawn.
A sudden tremor shuddered through the chamber. The torches flickered violently. The map's candles guttered. Murmurs escalated into alarm. Lucian's hand went to his sword hilt. The council elders exchanged panicked glances.
Elara's voice cut through the clamor. "The wards are failing!" She strode to the brazier and examined the embers. "Someone has tampered with our protection spells."
Chaos erupted. Advisors rushed to secure relics; Lucian and his sentinels formed a protective cordon around Aria and the council. Aria's mind raced: sabotage within Silverclaw's own walls? She glanced at Lucian—his jaw was set, fury shining in his eyes.
Without thinking, Aria seized her notebook. "Tell me what ward and how it was broken," she demanded, voice steady. "I need every detail."
Lucian flicked her a look—surprise, respect, something like pride. Elara answered, voice taut: "The eastern glyphs—they've been defaced. Moon-cycle markers erased. Without them, the barrier between our enclave and the forest dissolves at midnight."
Aria's breath caught. Midnight—mere hours away. "Then we have to seal it before dusk," she said, adrenaline spiking. "Show me the glyph chamber."
Lucian nodded to a sentinel, who flung open a hidden door behind the map table. A spiral staircase led downward into the bowels of the stronghold. The air grew cooler, heavier with power.
Aria followed Lucian into the depths, torchlight dancing over ancient stones. The corridor opened into a circular chamber carved with lunar phases. Pillars bore chiseled symbols—two were defaced, gouged as if by claws. Dust drifted like fog. The floor's mosaic—a wolf's head beneath a crescent moon—lay cracked.
Lucian knelt and pressed his fingers into the fissure. He examined the broken glyph, eyes narrowing. "This was done recently… human hands." He looked up at Aria. "Your world collides with ours in more ways than prophecy."
Aria knelt beside him, inspecting the damage. "We'll need a ritual to restore the wards," she said. "Moonwater, silver dust, and tribal chants. You have the ingredients?"
He exhaled slowly. "We can gather them. But someone betrays us from within." His voice dropped. "We ride to battle the Blackspire—and root out the saboteur."
A heavy silence settled. Aria rose, resolve hardening. She traced a finger over the broken glyph. "Then we begin now. I'll help you restore it—and expose whoever tore it down."
Lucian stood and offered his hand. "Together, then."
She took it without hesitation. His grip was warm, grounding. As they worked side by side to repair the ancient stones, Aria felt the full weight of choice—and power—settle around her. The hum of magic mingled with her blood, urging her onward.
Above, beyond the fortress walls, a distant howl split the night. It was a battle cry—and a warning. Aria's heart clenched. The prophecy had woken her, but war was coming for them all. And only by embracing her place in this world could she hope to guide it through the full moon's shadow into dawn.