THE SONG OF ALL MOONS
It began as a hum.
Faint. Vibrating through stone. Through water. Through the bones of wolves.
It wasn't magic.
It was memory.
And it wasn't coming from Silvercrest.
It was rising from everywhere.
Every Flame of Memory across the world flared.
Every moonstone shimmered.
Every dream, every howl, every heartbeat... synchronized.
It was the song.
And the song had begun to call its singers home.
Kirea heard it first.
She was walking along the river beneath the twin moons when her steps slowed.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it filled her.
Like breath after drowning.
She dropped her map tools, fell to her knees, and simply listened.
And wept.
Because it wasn't just Luna's voice she heard.
It was all of them.
Aelira.
The lost Moonborn.
Even the unnamed ones who had passed their stories to the world without a trace.
They were singing.
And the world was answering.
—
The Council convened within the hour.
Elders arrived trembling.
Young wolves who'd never shifted before shifted that night.
Dreamers woke screaming, then singing.
And Kirea said what none of them wanted to say aloud:
"The moons are awakening."
Rae's voice was quiet. "To what?"
Kirea opened her scroll.
Revealed a new path.
Not drawn.
Discovered.
A circle in the stars.
A convergence.
Finn murmured, "The last verse."
Kirea shook her head. "No. The first."
They would have to gather every flame.
Every story.
Every bloodline.
They would have to go beyond the borders of the known world.
To the ancient place where the First Song had been sung.
The Mouth of the Moon.
—
The journey spanned months.
Not because of distance.
But because of gathering.
They traveled in circles, spirals, collecting wolves from each territory.
Not the strongest.
Not the leaders.
But the voices.
A child who sang in her sleep.
A blind elder who hummed in time with trees.
A rogue who carved wind into music.
A pair of twins who howled harmonies.
A silent girl who could only speak in tune.
Each time they added a voice, the hum grew louder.
Each time they slept, they dreamed not alone—but together.
Until the dream showed them the way.
The Mouth of the Moon.
A place not on any map.
But beneath every footstep.
They found it deep in the Whispering Range—a cave that spiraled into the earth, then upward, until it opened into the sky.
It was not a mouth.
It was a throat.
Waiting to sing.
They stood in the circle.
Thirty wolves.
No titles.
No hierarchy.
Just breath.
Kirea began.
A hum.
Then a word.
Then a name.
"Luna."
"Light."
"Rise."
Each wolf added a note.
A tone.
A truth.
Their bodies glowed.
Not with magic.
With memory.
And above them, the moons aligned.
One.
Two.
Then three.
A third moon.
Smaller. Dimmer.
But real.
Born from voice.
And every wolf felt it:
This was the Song of All Moons.
Not just Luna's.
Not just Aelira's.
Not just Kirea's.
All of them.
Every choice.
Every echo.
Every rise.
And they sang.
Until the cave shattered.
Not in ruin.
In revelation.
And light poured into the world.
Carrying stories once lost.
Carrying names never spoken.
Carrying hope that did not need to be explained.
Just sung.
When they returned to Silvercrest, they were not the same.
The realm was not the same.
Children were already singing their own versions of the Moon Song.
Flames burned new colors.
The stars danced in threes.
And Kirea stepped down.
Not because she was done.
Because she had become.
She passed the scroll to a boy born the day the third moon appeared.
He had never spoken.
But he hummed constantly.
He took the scroll.
And began to draw.
A new map.
A new song.
A new moon.
And far above the world, three moons turned.
Balanced.
Boundless.
Becoming.