1. THORNE

Chapter 1

THORNE

Tension hangs heavy in the air as we patrol the edge of the Silver Crescent Pack territory— our territory.

My muscles strain with anticipation, and my senses are sharpened for any sign of intruders. I knew those bastards would try something again, and I am not going to wait around for them to do so.

It's been a month since the last time Shadow Fang Pack tried to pull a stupid stunt and invade my territory.

Other packs will consider them rash for even trying to go against Silver Crescent, but for them to keep returning, it seems they have something up their sleeves.

"I can sense them." My loyal beta, Rylan, is at my side, his steely gaze mirroring mine.

Behind us, the omega, Tessa, moves with silent grace, her presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. And leading the charge, my fiercest warrior, Zane, prowls ahead, his eyes ablaze with the thrill of the hunt.

As the scent of Shadow Fang taints the air, a primal rage ignites within me. They've again dared to encroach upon our territory, challenging our dominance.

"Prepare yourselves," I growl to my packmates. "We won't allow them to take what is ours."

With a silent command, we spring into action. Zane's howl pierces the night, signaling our presence to the enemy. They respond in kind, their own war cries echoing through the forest.

I charge forward, my claws extending, ready to tear into flesh. Alongside me, Rylan's strength matches mine as we face off against the Shadow Fangs.

"Stay close," I mutter to him.

Beside us, Tessa darts between the trees, her agility a deadly weapon against our foes. "Keep them distracted," I instruct her, my voice carrying over the din of battle. "We need to thin their numbers."

Soon, we spot them by the edge of the forest, racing toward us in a blur of inhuman speed.

I grin, adrenaline pulsing through my veins as I sprint towards them, tearing off my shirt as I go.

With a roar, I leap into the air. My body contorts as bones crack and reshape. The excruciating pain that comes with shifting is something I'm used to.

I swipe with my deadly claws at the belly of a brown wolf that jumps at me with a snarl. It lets out a whimper and tumbles to the side, blood gushing from its wounds before it falls, lifeless.

I continue to charge into the chaos, my muscles burning with the need to fight and spill the blood of my enemies.

The clash of fur and fangs fills the air as our packs collide. Even in the fray, I lock eyes with the leader of the Shadow Fangs, a savage brute with a hunger for power.

His fur is a deep shade of black that seems to absorb the moonlight. His amber eyes gleam with predatory malice as he sizes me up. This brute, with his massive frame and scarred snout, exudes ruthless power that sends a shiver down any wolf's spine.

Except me. He knows that. That's one of the reasons he hates me and wants my territory.

We have been enemies for as long as I can remember. Fenrir, a name whispered in fear and awe among both our packs.

He embodies everything I despise: cruelty, greed, and an insatiable thirst for dominance. Our clashes have become legendary, each battle fueled by a deep-seated animosity.

As Fenrir lunges at me and his teeth bare in a savage snarl, I meet him head-on. Our bodies collide with a force that reverberates through the night. His strength is immense, his blows raining upon me like thunder, but I refuse to yield.

Howling and gritting my fangs, I push back against him. I refuse to let him gain the upper hand.

Our fight is a dance of death, each of us testing the other's limits, seeking out weaknesses to exploit. Fenrir is a worthy adversary, but I won't falter in my duty to protect my pack and our territory.

As our claws clash and our fangs gnash, I can't help but wonder what drives Fenrir. Is it power? Revenge? Or does something darker lurk beneath his savage exterior? Whatever it is, he can kiss my ass because there's no way he's getting what he wants.

I bare my teeth, and without hesitation, I launch at him again. Our bodies collide, and I taste the acrid scent of his fury in the air.

His wolf is strong, but so is mine.

My muscles burn as I wrestle him to the ground, determined not to let any of his pack leave here alive. It seems I've been too lenient in the past. I need to make a statement. No one challenges my territory.

My teeth graze his throat, and I see the first flicker of fear in his eyes. With one last burst of strength, I plunge my fangs into his neck, feeling the resistance give way under the force of my bite. As his life drains away, I release him and rise to my feet, panting heavily.

With their leader dead, the remaining wolves start to retreat in fear. My enforcers look to me for orders.

" Shall we chase after them, Alpha?" I hear one of them mind-link me.

" No, that's enough. Now they know what they're up against. Let's go home."

Under the moon's silver glow, my enforcers and I start the trek home through a forest so dark that a human couldn't see their own feet.

Some humans are brave but know not to step foot in here. The ones that do? Well, they never return. This forest is unforgiving to those who underestimate it.

As we march through the ancient woods, I suddenly catch a foul scent riding the soft night breeze. I halt abruptly, my fur standing on end.

Everyone stops behind me.

Alpha ? Everything alright? Rylan's voice echoes in my mind.

Blood. I smell the stench of smoke and blood.

A low growl forms in my throat. It's the familiar scent of death, but not the death we just left behind. Its source sends a shiver down my spine.

Just ahead lies our neighboring pack.

And something is drastically wrong.

Smoke.

Death.

Ash.

As I approach the once lively territory, I now face a canvas painted with agony. The air is thick with a metallic tang, and my paws crunch on the remnants of decimated homes and dead bodies.

The scene unfolds before my wolven eyes. Blood paints the ground in wide strokes, mixing with the ashen remains of burnt homes. I take in the lifeless bodies of our adjacent pack. Wolves I once exchanged greetings with now lie motionless.

Who could have done this?

Why?

The battle we have returned from is like child's play compared to the carnage I see here.

And somehow, deep within me, I know who is responsible for this.

Dark Moon.

No one else is this brutal.

Dark Moon is a chilling assembly of rogue wolves that moves through the shadows with sinister intent. They are led by a malevolent, unknown alpha, who some call Varis.

The Dark Moon Pack is named for the growing darkness in their hearts. Each kill propels them toward an insidious goal—unrivaled power. They are fanatics.

They believe that with their power, they should rule the world. And they're not just killing humans. They'll kill any fellow supernatural who stands in their way.

They're all mad.

I've only ever heard rumors of them, but now, the realization chills my bones. I fear it is inevitable. They will soon come for my pack. They have left their unmistakable mark here.

It's a sight that claws at my soul, and the knowledge of our once-friendly neighbors meeting such a gruesome end fuels the wrath within me.

I groan as my bones crack and straighten, and the rest of my enforcers do the same. I rise to my human height, unconcerned about my nudity.

"Alpha," Rylan approaches, his face filled with concern. "They'll return. Next time, for us."

"We shall be ready for them." My voice is confident, but my mind is not.

This fight is just getting started. And I will do anything to protect my pack.

As I walk into the meeting room, the dread in my belly grows. This is not going to be a random battle. This is a fight with bloodthirsty fanatics.

I know my pack's full of badass warriors, but some really nasty evil outnumbers us.

The odds are bad, but we won't surrender. Never. I'd rather go down fighting. They have trusted me as their Alpha, and I won't let them down.

I sit at the head of the table and look around. Rylan stands tall beside me.

We have Lady Lani, a silver-furred wolf whose aura is a testament to years of moonlit wisdom. Lani's piercing blue eyes reflect the knowledge she's gained through countless challenges.

Beside her stands Grizzled Oak, a hulking presence with fur as dark as night.

Completing the trio of elders is Ember Swift, a sleek and agile she-wolf, her russet hair glinting with hidden fire. Ember's sharp eyes and quick reflexes have saved our hides more times than I can count.

"How did it go, Alpha?" Ember is the first to ask.

I clear my throat. "It went well. It served as a warning to the other packs. I killed Fenrir. They won't enter our territory anymore."

As I gaze into the concerned eyes of the elders, I see them sag with relief, and I grunt, cutting them off. "But," I add, "there's a bigger problem."

"Tell us, Alpha," Oak says.

"It's Moonbeam." I start, not knowing how to relay the message.

Lani perks up. "Did they help you in fighting Shadow Fang?"

I shake my head. "They're dead."

In the silence, everyone seems frozen.

I clear my throat again. "Their pack was leveled. No survivors, not even one pup."

"Dear Luna." Lani places her hands on her chest, eyes wide in sorrow.

"Who did it?"

I look at Oak. "Dark Moon. They're the only ones who would show such brutality in the way they killed Moonbeam."

Ember whispers, staring into nothing. "We are next."

I nod solemnly because it's the truth. And I watch as they all realize what that means.

We might not survive this.

I square my shoulders. "I will speak with Mad Greta. She might not be as mad as we think."

They stare at me uncertainly.

"She sees things, Alpha," Oak insists. "She predicted this! A week ago, she mentioned the fact that the Moonbeam will be lost to ashes. And if she knew that, then she must have an idea how we can win this war."

An hour later, as Rylan and I venture into the ominous darkness of the cave at the edge of our territory, he shoots me a skeptical glance. "Thorne, man, are you sure about this?"

Rylan, my closest friend, insists on using my name only when we are alone, despite me telling him not to bother with "Alpha." Everyone knows we are the best of friends, but he refuses to budge. Always the stiff, prim, and proper wolf—annoying as ever.

My gaze is fixed on the foreboding entrance. "Mad Greta's got answers. I know it. Prophecies or not, there's something in that madness that speaks the truth," I reply, convinced.

I remember that night. She had left the comfort of her cave to warn me. "Ashes, ashes. I see ashes." She had said in a cracked voice, and even though Rylan had tried to get her back to her cave, I stopped him.

"Ashes? You see ashes?" I asked, helping her to sit while taking her gnarled, wrinkled hands in mine. She felt so cold.

"Ashes… Moonbeam shall be lost to ashes." She said.

I didn't understand what she meant. But I know now.

"I don't think this is right." Rylan mumbles and ducks as we enter the cave.

The tale of Greta, once a normal pack member driven to the brink of madness by the loss of her mate, hangs in the air. Her sanity was shattered when a bear shifter ruthlessly ended her mate's life during a hunt.

The bond breaking drove her into a spiral of incomprehensible prophecies and paranoia. The cave became her refuge, and despite my efforts to ensure her well-being, a veil of fear kept the pack at bay.

No one would dare enter her cave. Not after she almost bit off the arms of a mischievous adolescent pup.

I snicker as Rylan checks his arms and shivers as if he's the one who got bitten. Well, he does have first-hand memories since he was the one who rescued the boy from Mad Greta's teeth that afternoon.

As we step deeper into the darkness, the air thickens with a sense of the unknown. It's a risk, but in the shadows of Greta's madness, there might be truths waiting to be unraveled.

In the flickering firelight, Mad Greta emerges from the shadows. Her once-lustrous dress now appears unkempt, a tangled mess of cloth. Her once-glossy hair is now wild and matted. Haunted eyes peer out beneath a furrowed brow, and deep lines etch her face.

As Rylan and I approach, Greta's gaze fixes on us with unsettling intensity. A growl escapes her. "What are you doing here? Who are you? How dare you come into my cave?!" she hisses.

"Oh, shut up. I knew this was a bad idea." Reacting swiftly, Rylan positions himself protectively before me, anticipating Greta's unpredictable wrath.

I don't need protecting, but before I can nudge him aside, Greta screams and lunges towards Rylan with fierce rage. Claws outstretched, she aims to tear his face.

Just as her claws graze Rylan's pretty face, I step between them, catching Greta mid-air and pushing her back a few feet.

Her feral snarls echo in the cave as she sees me.

"Stop." I hold her back, using the alpha aura to subdue the raging storm within her. The cave trembles with the intensity of the confrontation, and finally, she sags against the rock wall and sits on the floor.

I look back at Rylan with a raised eyebrow.

You wanted to protect me? I mock.

I look back at the female on the floor, muttering incoherently.

"Greta," I begin, attempting to cut through her madness. "It's Thorne. We need your guidance." Her vacant eyes flicker momentarily, but the words tumbling from her lips are a jumbled symphony of confusion.

"They dance in shadows, oh, shadows that bite. Stars whisper secrets, secrets... lost in the howls," she mutters, her gaze distant, lost in the recesses of her fractured mind.

"Well, shit." Rylan snickers. "This is pointless, Thorne. She's beyond reason." Frustration is etched on his face, but I remain resolved.

"Greta, what do you know about Dark Moon?" I press.

At the mere mention of the name, her vacant eyes spark with awareness.

The shadows in the cave deepen, mirroring the intensity of her gaze, as if the very mention of Dark Moon has unleashed a dormant force within her tortured psyche. As we wait for the mad oracle to speak, the air thickens with anticipation.

But she doesn't speak. Instead, Greta's eyes, now alight with an eerie glow, pierce the darkness. Panting and shaking, she retrieves a paper from the shadows beside her.

With an almost otherworldly focus, she cuts herself and begins to write using her own blood. In the stillness of the cave, the only sound is the scratching of the makeshift quill against paper.

As the prophecy forms on the page, etched in crimson, the words seem to carry the weight of the moon goddess. Greta's hand moves with an uncanny grace, the prophecy unfolding like a tapestry woven by unseen hands.

Once she completes the transference onto the paper clutched in her hand, Greta makes a slight sound in her throat, and the eerie glow fades from her eyes before she collapses.

"Greta!" I hurry to her side, checking for signs of life, while Rylan rushes to retrieve the paper.

She's alive, breathing slowly, but probably needs nourishment. I immediately mind-link one of the enforcers to bring her a tray of her favorite meals.

Then I stand and turn to Rylan, who passes me the crumpled paper with a frown.

Written in elegant handwriting, the prophecy pulses to life on the paper.

And when it's time for the race to come to an end, there will be a savior. The mate that would bear the golden mark of the moon goddess. The new hope for the existence of werewolves.

Only this alpha with the prophecy shall find her…

I groan as sharp pain flashes in my head. I see a vision of auburn hair and green eyes, and before I can make sense of what I am witnessing, the image disappears.