The moon was swallowed by thick clouds, casting the world into an eerie twilight as Selene and her council returned from the Crimson Veil Estate.
The air was heavy with unanswered questions and the bitter taste of betrayal.
Kaelen's words haunted her:
"The Abyssborn are coming."
A name no one dared to speak aloud for centuries—creatures from the void between worlds, born of darkness and chaos, who devoured everything in their path.
If Kaelen's warning was true, the packs faced an enemy far deadlier than political schemes or Shadow Fang assassins.
Back at the summit camp, Selene gathered her most trusted allies around the fire.
Korren of Bloodfang, Saria of Nightmist, Jace, and Daemon Blackwood—all eyes were fixed on her.
"The Abyssborn," she began, "are not just legend. They're real. And they're coming."
Daemon's face darkened. "The old texts say they consume both body and soul, leaving nothing but ruin."
Saria's voice trembled slightly. "Only the combined power of the Royal Blood and the ancient wards can hold them at bay."
Korren growled. "And if the Shadow Fang were fighting them, then maybe their betrayal was born of desperation."
Jace's gaze was sharp. "So Kaelen's peace offer wasn't a trap—it was a warning."
Selene nodded. "But we can't trust him. Not yet. The Shadow Fang have their own agenda."
A heavy silence fell.
Then Selene spoke again.
"We need to prepare the packs. Unite the territories beyond the three Great Packs. We need warriors, magic, and alliances."
Korren slammed a fist into his palm. "I'll rally Bloodfang's forces. They will answer the call."
Saria looked to the night sky. "I will send word to the Moon Priestesses. Their magic may be our only defense."
Daemon's eyes met Selene's. "And I will seek out the lost clans. The ones hiding in exile. They remember the old ways."
Jace's voice was steady. "I will train your guard. If the Abyssborn come, we will be ready."
Selene's heart burned with fierce determination.
"We will face this darkness together."
Days passed in feverish preparation.
Messengers sped through the night, calling warriors to Selene's banner.
The packs, once divided and wary, began to respond.
New alliances formed, old grudges were set aside—for now.
Yet, shadows lingered.
In the distance, Damien Thorn and Elira watched the rising storm with bitter eyes.
"We can't let her succeed," Damien growled. "If the Abyssborn threaten us all, then we will use that fear."
Elira smiled coldly. "Fear makes wolves desperate. And desperation makes them weak."
One evening, beneath the veil of stars, Selene stood alone on the summit cliff, looking out over the vast expanse of her territory.
The wind whispered ancient secrets.
Aira stirred within her, restless.
Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught Selene's eye.
A figure stepped from the shadows—soft footsteps on stone.
"Selene."
She turned sharply, drawing Moonfire.
"Who's there?"
From the darkness, a young wolf stepped forward.
His eyes glowed amber—wild and fierce.
"My name is Kael," he said. "I am one of the lost clans."
Selene lowered her blade slightly.
"You survived the purge?"
He nodded. "Barely. I've been waiting for you. The Royal Blood's return."
Kael's voice was steady but urgent.
"The Abyssborn's return is only the beginning. There are darker forces stirring—ancient enemies long thought buried beneath the earth."
Selene felt the weight of his words settle like stones in her chest.
"Tell me everything," she said.
Kael led her to a hidden cave beneath the cliffs.
Inside, torchlight revealed ancient runes etched into the walls—symbols of protection and war.
"The lost clans guarded these secrets," Kael explained. "They knew the Abyssborn were not the only threat."
He pointed to a carving of a monstrous wolf—its eyes blazing with void fire.
"The Voidfang. A creature born of the Abyssborn's hatred, bound by ancient magic but now awakening."
Selene's grip tightened on Moonfire.
"If it rises…"
Kael nodded. "It will bring ruin to all packs."
She swallowed hard. "Then we need to stop it. Together."
Kael smiled faintly. "With the Queen leading us, there's hope."
Back at camp, word spread quickly.
The packs gathered under Selene's banner—not just to fight, but to prepare for a war that would define their future.
The Council elders reinforced wards around the summit.
Warriors trained harder than ever.
Magic flowed through the air like a living force.
And Selene, once the rejected Luna, now stood as a beacon of strength and unity.
But in the shadows, enemies plotted.
Damien's voice echoed in her mind, a warning and a promise:
"The crown is never safe, and the throne is always stained with blood."
Selene tightened her grip on Moonfire.
"This time," she whispered, "I will be the storm."