The sun had not yet dared to peek over the jagged peaks of the Moonlight Mountains when the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of combat boots hitting the dirt echoed through the valley. At fifteen years old, Simon Peter Moonlight was already a head taller than most of the grown warriors in his father's pack. While other boys his age were dreaming of their first shift or sneaking extra helpings of Stella's famous blueberry cobbler, Simon was pushing his body to the brink of collapse.
He was a perfectionist, a trait he had inherited from his father, Alpha Michael, though his mother, Stella, often argued it was her "stubbornness" that gave him his drive.
Simon took a sharp turn at the edge of the Eastern Creek, his lungs burning like they were filled with hot coals. Every stride was calculated. Every breath was timed. He carried the blood of the Moonlight legacy, and in a world where strength was the only currency, he refused to be poor.
"Faster, Simon! If you're moving this slowly when you're Alpha, the squirrels will take over the pack house!"
Simon didn't have to look back to know his mother was following him. Stella was perched on the back of a slow-moving ATV driven by a sleepy-looking Beta James. She had a megaphone in one hand and a thermos of coffee in the other.
"Mom," Simon wheezed, not breaking his pace. "I'm... doing... ten miles... an hour."
"And your father did twelve at your age! Or so he claims when he's trying to impress me," Stella shouted through the megaphone, the feedback echoing through the trees. "Keep those knees up! Do you want to be an Alpha or a decorative statue?"
Simon groaned, but his lips quirked into a small smile. His mother was the only person in the world who could make a grueling endurance run feel like a comedy routine. He knew why she pushed him. As the future Alpha, he was the target of every rogue pack and jealous rival within a thousand miles.
By the time they reached the training clearing, Simon's shirt was soaked through with sweat, clinging to the emerging muscles of his chest and back. He stopped, hands on his knees, gasping for air.
"Good timing, son," a deep voice boomed.
Alpha Michael stepped out from the shadows of the gym, looking every bit the formidable leader. He walked over to Simon and handed him a bottle of water. "Your mother isn't entirely wrong, you know. You're getting faster. But you're too stiff. You fight the ground instead of running on it."
"I have to be perfect, Dad," Simon said, draining the water in three massive gulps. "I'm the future Alpha. Everyone is watching me."
Michael placed a heavy, warm hand on Simon's shoulder. "Being an Alpha isn't about being a machine, Simon. It's about heart. You can have the strongest bite in the world, but if your pack doesn't love you, you're just a bully with a title."
"I know," Simon muttered, though his mind was already moving to the next task. "Am I sparring with the Lead Warrior today?"
"Actually," Michael said, his expression turning serious, "I want you to spend the afternoon with the pack Elders. You need to learn the history of the four kingdoms. Strength is nothing without wisdom."
Simon suppressed a sigh. History meant sitting still, and sitting still was when the restlessness started.
For the past few months, Simon had felt like a boiling kettle. His skin felt too tight, his blood too hot. It wasn't just the approaching First Shift, every werewolf went through that. This was different. Sometimes, when he was angry, the air around him seemed to shimmer with a dry heat. Other times, when he was near the lake, he felt a strange, humming vibration in his bones that made him want to dive into the depths and never come up.
The afternoon in the Elder's Hall was as tedious as Simon expected. Elder Hobs was a wolf who had seen nearly ninety winters and smelled like old parchment and damp fur.
"The four pillars of the world, young Alpha," Hobs droned, pointing a gnarled stick at a mural on the wall. "The Moonlight and Starlight Packs of the land. The Lagoon Kingdom of the sea. And the Dragon Nest of the sky. We have been separate for generations, bound by treaties as old as the mountains."
Simon stared at the mural. His eyes were drawn to the Dragon Nest, a city of fire and stone. Then to the Lagoon, a shimmering world of blue.
"Why don't we ever visit them?" Simon asked, his turquoise eyes fixed on the painting.
"Safety, boy," Hobs wheezed. "A wolf in the water is a drowned dog. A mermaid on land is a fish out of water. And a dragon... well, a dragon is a fire looking for a forest. We stay apart so we don't destroy each other."
That feels wrong, Simon thought. We're all part of the same world.
As the sun began to set, Simon was finally released. He headed toward the pack house, but he was intercepted by a group of young she-wolves his age.
"Simon! We're going down to the bonfire tonight," one of them, a girl named Sarah, said with a giggle. She reached out to touch his arm, her eyes fluttering. "You should come. You've been training too hard."
Simon felt a wave of irritation. He could smell her perfume, something floral and cloying, and it made his nose itch. "I have to study," he said curtly, sidestepping her.
"Oh, come on, Simon! Just for an hour?" another girl chimed in.
Before Simon could respond, a shadow loomed over them. Stella appeared as if out of thin air, a wooden spoon held like a weapon.
"Ladies!" Stella chirped, though her eyes were flashing with a warning. "Don't you have chores? My son is busy preparing to lead a pack, not auditioning for a boy band. Move along before I find some very dirty laundry for you to wash!"
The girls scattered like leaves in the wind. Stella turned to Simon, her expression softening into one of amusement.
"You're a popular boy, Simon Peter," she teased, poking him in the ribs.
"They're annoying, Mom," Simon grumbled. "They smell like flowers and desperation."
Stella laughed, pulling him into a side-hug. "That's because they aren't her, Simon. When you find your mate, she won't smell like a perfume bottle. She'll smell like home. She'll be the only scent that makes your wolf sit down and shut up."
"I don't care about mates," Simon said, though he felt a strange pang in his chest at her words.
That night, Simon lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. The restlessness was back, stronger than ever. He felt like his bones were growing too fast for his skin.
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but as he drifted off, the dreams started.
He wasn't in the Moonlight territory. He was standing on a high, snowy peak under a sky so clear the stars looked like diamonds he could reach out and grab. The air was cold, but he wasn't freezing.
Then, he saw her.
She was standing at the edge of the cliff, her back to him. Her hair was a long, flowing river of pure silver, shimmering in the starlight. She didn't look like a wolf; she looked like a spirit made of moonlight itself.
Simon tried to move toward her, but his feet were frozen. "Who are you?" he called out.
The girl began to turn. Her face was blurry, hidden by the glow of the stars, but her eyes... her eyes were violet. Deep, endless violet.
"Wait for me," she whispered. Her voice didn't come from her mouth; it echoed inside his soul, a melody that made his heart ache with a loneliness he hadn't known he possessed.
Simon reached out his hand. "Wait!"
He sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. His room was silent, the moon shining through his window. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his hands were shaking.
He looked down at his palms. For a split second, he thought he saw a faint, metallic shimmer beneath his skin, like the scales of a fish or the hide of a dragon. He blinked, and it was gone.
"What is happening to me?" he whispered to the empty room.
He got out of bed and walked to the window, looking out toward the north. Somewhere, far beyond the borders of the Moonlight Pack, he felt a faint, tethered pull. It was a thread of silk tied to his heart, stretching out across the mountains.
He didn't know it yet, but the "Mate Fever" had officially begun. The boy who wanted to be a machine was starting to realize that the Moon Goddess had much more complicated plans for him.
Simon Peter Moonlight was a Tribrid Alpha in the making, and the world, and the silver-haired girl in his dreams, was waiting for him to wake up.