Seraphina's breath caught in her throat as the man stepped into the moonlight. Time slowed. The forest around them seemed to pause, like even the trees were unsure of what they were seeing. The man's eyes were unmistakable—steel gray, just like hers. His face bore the same angular lines, the same stubborn jaw, aged now but undeniably familiar. "Father?" Her voice cracked like glass underfoot. She took a step forward, unsure whether to run into his arms or away from him entirely. The last time she had seen him, she was ten years old, hiding under floorboards as fire consumed their home. He had pushed her there. He had told her to stay quiet. And then he vanished into the smoke. Everyone said he died. Everyone said he was a hero. But now, standing in front of her, cloaked in wolfskin and silence, he looked like anything but.
Kael moved protectively in front of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. "How is this possible?" he asked sharply. "You're supposed to be dead." The man—no, the shadow of the man they had buried in their stories—lifted his chin. "They buried what they were told to bury. A lie. I lived. I was taken." His voice was gravel and wind, worn by years of silence. "Taken by who?" Seraphina asked, her voice trembling. "The corrupted? Calen?" He shook his head. "By something older. The ones behind the corrupted. The ones who used our bloodlines to build their own. You think Calen is your enemy? He's just a symptom. There's a rot deeper than any of you have guessed." The moonlight caught the scar running from his temple to his collarbone. "They kept me alive because of my blood. Because of you." She swallowed hard. "Me?" "You're not just a moonborn, Seraphina. You're descended from the first wolf who defied the order. You're her heir. And they've been waiting for you to rise so they could either break you—or use you."
Ruvan stiffened. "The Elders spoke of the first defiant. The one who refused to sacrifice her mate during the Blood Eclipse. She was hunted. Her blood cursed." Seraphina turned to her father. "She was my ancestor?" He nodded. "And the curse is not on your blood. It's on theirs. Those who tried to control what should never be tamed." The wind picked up, and with it came the unmistakable stench of death. Her father's eyes darkened. "They know I'm with you now. They'll come. And this time, they won't send corrupted wolves or half-trained traitors. They'll send the Pureborn." Ruvan's face went pale. Kael's hand gripped tighter around his weapon. "Pureborn?" Seraphina asked. "What are they?" "Wolves born not from love or nature," her father said quietly, "but from blood rituals and dark gods. They don't shift. They transform. Entirely. They don't feel. They hunt." A sudden chill ran down Seraphina's spine. She turned toward the horizon where black clouds had begun to gather, moving faster than any storm should. A sign. A warning. Or perhaps, a promise. "Then we prepare," she said. "Because I refuse to run."
The village fell into motion like a waking beast. Warnings were sent. Watchers were posted. Weapons were reforged from silverwood and blessed with old incantations. Seraphina moved among her people like someone reborn. Some bowed when they saw her. Some whispered. Some stared in silence, as if unsure whether she was savior or curse. She didn't blame them. She wasn't sure either. Kael found her later, standing on the ridge overlooking the forest. "You don't have to do this alone," he said. "You never did." She didn't answer right away. The wind tugged at her hair, and the weight of fate pressed on her like armor. "I know," she said finally. "But this next part... this fight... it's going to change everything." She turned to him, her voice soft but sharp. "I need you to promise me something." "Anything." "If I lose myself—if I become what they fear—don't let me stay that way. End it." He flinched, but nodded. "Only if you promise me one thing too." "What?" "Fight like you've already won."
Night fell.
The first howl echoed in the distance—low, guttural, wrong. It was followed by another. Then silence.
And then the trees began to burn.