For thousands of years, the Kingdom of Rosewood whispered of a prophecy — a tale about the child of the Moon Goddess.
No one knew when she would be born or what form her power would take.
Only one thing was certain: her arrival would shake the balance of the world.
The Blood Moon Pack, fiercest among all warrior clans, swore loyalty only to the King of wolves. Their strength was unmatched, their discipline unshakable. They produced legends — warriors whose names were still spoken with reverence long after they had turned to dust.
Then came the night the heavens bled.The moon burned crimson and refused to fade, hanging in the sky for three nights and three days — a sign unseen since the dawn of the Kingdom.
It was during those three nights that many women nearing childbirth went into labor. Some delivered on the first night, others on the second. But one — Luna Celeste of the Blood Moon Pack — suffered for the full three days. Her cries echoed through the mountains, her pain endless, her endurance unmatched.
When her child's first cry finally pierced the air on the third night, the winds stilled. The moon flared brighter, as if claiming the infant as its own.
The next morning, the Oracle appeared at the palace gates — eyes white as frost, voice trembling with power.
She spoke only once:
"Among the children born beneath the crimson moon lies the child of the Moon Goddess.
The rest shall be her guardians — bound by fate, blessed by her light, and marked to protect her with their lives.
Together, they will rise… or fall, and the Kingdom with them."
From that moment, fear and reverence swept through Rosewood. No one knew which child carried the divine blood.
But all the pups born under the Blood Moon bore something strange — eyes that shimmered faintly silver when the moonlight touched them, and strength beyond what any normal wolf possessed.
And among them, wrapped in white cloth under the silent gaze of the moon… lay Zira, the Luna's first born daughter.
The revelation sent shockwaves throughout the entire Rosewood Kingdom.
Whispers turned into gasps, and gasps into roars of disbelief. The Oracle's words had been clear — the chosen child and her knights had been born among them — yet the identity of the divine heir remained hidden.
Bound by sacred law, the priest who had channeled the prophecy swore an oath of silence before the altar of the Moon Goddess. His tongue would burn should he ever reveal more than was permitted. Only the King and his High Council were allowed to know of the chosen's birth — and even they were told no names, only that the blessed ones had come.
When he emerged from the temple, the crowd pressed close, hungry for answers. Murmurs spread like wildfire — curiosity laced with envy, and fear disguised as reverence.
"Who is the chosen?" someone cried.
"Is it my child?" another shouted.
"Or the Luna's daughter?" whispered a third, her voice trembling.
The priest's body shook with exhaustion, his robes drenched in sweat. He raised a trembling hand to silence the crowd.
"The Goddess forbids me to speak," he rasped. "But know this — all the pups born under the blood moon carry her mark. The chosen walks among them… guarded by fate itself."
He staggered toward the palace gates, where the King and his council awaited. With the last of his strength, he relayed the message entrusted to him: the chosen and her knights had been born, yet none could know which one she was.
Then, before their stunned eyes, the priest collapsed to the marble floor — his task fulfilled, his body spent.
From that night onward, a silent tension hung over the kingdom. Each child born during the blood moon was watched, trained, and tested. Every family hoped their child might be the one — or feared it.
And so began the secret war of whispers — the hunt for the true daughter of the Moon Goddess.
As the days passed, the kingdom watched the newborns of the Blood Moon with reverence and unease. Each child carried a trace of the goddess's blessing — a streak of silver glimmering faintly in their hair whenever moonlight touched it.
All, except one.
The daughter of the Luna of the Blood Moon Pack — the fiercest warriors in all the Rosewood— was born without a single thread of silver. Her hair was as black as the night sky itself, and when the moonlight fell upon it, it shimmered with a thousand tiny sparkles, like stars woven into darkness.
They named her Zira.
She had taken three full days and nights to be born, her mother's strength nearly breaking under the pain. Such endurance had never been seen before — nor had such a child.
The whispers began again.
"Could she be the chosen one?"
"Why does her hair bear no silver?"
"Is it a blessing… or a curse?"
Her birth divided the kingdom. Some called her the Moon's Shadow, believing the goddess had hidden her power in darkness to protect her from those who would harm her. Others feared her difference, whispering that the black in her hair was a mark of doom.
The King's Council kept silent, bound by the priest's warning. No one knew the truth — only that the daughter of the Luna was unlike any child ever seen in Rosewood Kingdom.
And so, even as a newborn, Zira became the center of quiet speculation, jealousy, and destiny.
The Blood Moon warriors swore their loyalty to her family as always, but even they could not shake the unease that hung in the air whenever the child opened her silver-flecked eyes.
There was something ancient in her gaze — something watching through her.