The forest fell into silence, as moonlight cascaded over the trees — like the world itself was holding its breath.
The trees stood unnaturally still, their leaves refusing to move — as if the entire forest had come to a halt.Above, the sky darkened with each passing moment, deepening from shadowy gray to a blood-red hue, as if the heavens themselves sensed what was coming.
Yet far from the border, in the heart of the city where the werewolves resided, life carried on.The streets bustled with people, unaware of the storm gathering in the distance.
An old lady sitting at the center surrounded by children and women telling a story that has been passed down generation by generation.
There's an old saying "Never cross the border after sundown. Never trust the silence. And never, ever look into a vampire's eyes."
The centuries-long war had scarred everyone. The borders between races were forbidden — not just physically, but in thought, in conversation. Speaking of them had become a taboo.
In the dead of night, the fire that kept the pack's grounds lit suddenly flickered… and died. Darkness swallowed the land.
The pack leader and the warrior wolves moved swiftly, securing the area. The female wolves and their pups were ordered to hide — and stay close. No one was to be left alone.
The wind seemed to hold its breath, just like the wolves, all braced for the terror to come.
Vampires.
A low wind rustled through the forest, brushing past ancient stones carved with warnings no human dared transcribe. Fog curled over the earth like the breath of a sleeping beast. The air reeked of blood — and something unnatural.
Tonight was no ordinary night. It was the Blood Moon — when the forest glowed crimson and the vampires reached the height of their power.
They came not with war cries, but in silence. In whispers. In shadows.
But this time, they didn't come for the werewolves.
They came for someone.
A prophecy whispered among the vampire clans told of a werewolf with purple eyes like rubies, claws sharp as blades, shining like silver. A beast who would end the war… and bring peace. A beast they were destined to kill.
What no one knew — not the vampires, not even the werewolves — was that a bond already existed between that wolf and a vampire.
It was said:"When the purple-eyed wolf is born, the Blood Moon will rise to paint the forest in red. And on that night alone, the wolf can be killed."That night… was tonight.
The vampires attacked from within. Hidden in the shadows, they struck the wolves one by one.
Their eyes flickered crimson from within the shadows, glowing like embers rising from the land itself.It was as if the ground breathed them out — creatures born of the earth's darkness.
The moment anyone moved, the soil cracked open with a violent hiss.A vampire would rise from beneath, silent and swift, and strike before a howl could escape.
One movement.One breath.That was all it took to die.
Just as the pack leader's knees buckled, claws digging into the dirt, a sudden blur of grey fur and golden fury exploded from the tree line.
A deafening snarl ripped through the air as the wolf launched himself at the attacker, tackling the vampire mid-strike and slamming him to the ground with bone-cracking force.
Before the creature could react, razor-sharp claws ripped through flesh like paper, and a flash of silver-teeth tore into his throat.
The vampire gurgled — then fell still.
His fur was thick and ashen, claws gleaming — not silver, but just as deadly. His power was wild and ancient.
The female wolves and their young remained untouched. The rest of the pack, though wounded and fractured, rallied behind their leader. By midnight, a quarter of the vampires had been shredded, many left bleeding or retreating into the night.
But the werewolves had suffered too — nearly half of their numbers gone. The survivors tended to the wounded, their territory littered with blood and ruin.
Only one vampire remained.
Near the border, slumped between trees under the blood-red moonlight, he lay injured — magic and blood seeping from his body.
While the pack scrambled in chaos, the grey wolf broke from the others and ran to the borders to investigate. A few wolves followed.
There, he found the vampire.
Still alive. Still bleeding.
He stopped in his tracks, silent and watchful. Slowly, he approached. Then, without hesitation, he gripped the vampire's collar in his teeth, dragged him across the forest ground, and threw him against a tree with effortless force.
The other wolves froze behind him.
With a low, echoing growl, the grey wolf struck — tearing the vampire apart in a blur of claws and fury.
Silence fell again.
The wolf stood still, blood dripping from his claws. He turned, the light catching his form.
Then — a glow.
The wolf shifted.
Fur gave way to flesh, claws to fingers, snout to sharp cheekbones.
And standing in the moonlight, on the safe side of the border, was a man.
Eyes like polished amethysts.Hair black as the void. Calm. Controlled. Deadly.
The purple-eyed werewolf
They weren't supposed to be here. Not this close to the border. Not after the Truce.
He growled low in his throat, barely audible, and motioned for his packmate behind him to hold. If it was a scout, he would take care of it alone. He needed to prove himself. he was next in line to lead, and weakness had no place in the blood-soaked legacy of alphas.
Then he saw him.
A figure cloaked in black, standing just past the old stone markers, his pale skin almost glowing in the dark. He didn't move, didn't blink. Just watched. Like he knew he would come.
And he… couldn't breathe for a moment.
There was something wrong with the vampire — but not in the way he expected. He didn't radiate danger. No hunger, no menace. Just… calm, Sadness, maybe. His eyes were ancient, yes — but there was something else in them too.
Recognition?
The vampire tilted his head slightly. "You feel it too, don't you?" he said softly.
his heart skipped.
Then the wind shifted.
Suddenly, the vampire staggered — a silver-tipped arrow whizzing past lycaon's shoulder and striking the vampire through the side. He fell, graceful even in pain, as darkness exploded around him.
he didn't think. He moved.
In a heartbeat, he crossed the border — breaking the law, breaking the pact, breaking every damn rule — and caught the vampire before his head hit the ground.
Their eyes locked.
And something ancient, something buried, snapped into place.
A burning pulse surged through both of them — not pain, not magic, but something else, something different yet magical. Something final. Something fated.
his chest heaved. "What… what are you?"
The vampire smiled faintly, blood trailing from his lips. "Not what. Who. lycaon"
He raised a trembling hand and touched his cheek.
"I finally found you" the vampire said and with that the vampire passed out and fell into darkness.