The Blood Moon's heir

CHAPTER ONE: THE BLOOD MOON'S HEIR

The forest held its breath.

Beneath the crimson gleam of a rare Blood Moon, the air shimmered with unnatural heat. Shadows stretched like claws across the earth, whispering of ancient omens. Trees creaked, uneasy. The prey had vanished hours ago. Even the wind refused to stir.

And yet, in the clearing where silver grass bent low to the earth, she stood.

Ashra, Luna of the Blackmane Pack, blood-slick and panting, stared down at the broken body of the traitor. Her claws trembled, not from fear, but from what she'd done. From what she had to do.

"He was your brother."

The words were not hers. They came from the dark, low and sharp as ice.

She turned. A shadow stepped from the trees-massive, bristling, gold eyes glowing. Fenric, her mate. Alpha. The one she had trusted since her first howl to the stars. His eyes were unreadable. No grief. No rage. Just a hollow stare at the corpse.

Ashra raised her head, throat tight. "He betrayed the pact. He would've handed our territory to the Redclaws. He killed Kira."

"And still. He was your blood."

"So am I," she growled. "Do I matter less?"

Fenric looked away.

Ashra felt the tremor start in her heart and echo outward.

He didn't answer.

The Blackmane wolves were restless. The murder had cracked something deep in the bones of the pack. Ashra could feel it-like a rip in the wind before a storm. Eyes followed her in silence. Some bowed low. Others turned away. She wasn't just a Luna now. She was something else. Something they didn't know whether to fear or follow.

And that was dangerous.

On the third night after the Blood Moon, the seer came.

Wrapped in the pelts of dead spirits, eyes fogged white with the Sight, Elder Myrin limped into the den where Ashra sat watch. She didn't bow. Didn't speak for a long time.

Finally, she said, "You felt it, didn't you?"

Ashra didn't answer. She had. That split-second before she tore out her brother's throat-she had felt the pull. Something old. Something buried in her blood. Power that wasn't hers. Not completely.

Myrin didn't wait. "You've awoken the curse."

"There's no curse," Ashra snapped. "That's a story for pups."

Myrin's laugh was dry as dead leaves. "And so is the moon, until it burns red."

Ashra rose. Her shadow stretched like wings behind her. "Speak plainly, seer."

Myrin's milky eyes narrowed. "The first Luna of our bloodline made a pact with the moon. To protect the pack, no matter the cost. Even if it meant spilling kin blood. Even if it meant damnation."

Ashra froze.

"It wasn't just the killing that awoke it," Myrin said, voice low. "It was your will. You chose to protect the pack. And the moon heard you."

"What does it want?"

"It wants what all ancient things want. Sacrifice."

That night, Ashra dreamed in silver flame.

She stood alone atop the Ridge of Howls, the land burning beneath her paws. Wolves screamed in the distance. Blood soaked the soil. And from the sky, the moon wept fire.

She saw herself-older, crueler, crowned in bone and starlight. She was no Luna. She was queen of a dead world.

And she liked it.

Ashra awoke with a snarl, heart pounding. Sweat drenched her fur. Outside, the pack slept uneasy. Except one.

A pup.

Small, limping, no more than six moons old, stood in the doorway. "You were screaming," he said. "Luna?"

Ashra softened. "Bad dream, little one."

He tilted his head. "You smelled like lightning."

Before she could answer, he turned and vanished into the dark.

She didn't sleep again.

The next day, the Redclaws came.

They didn't howl. They didn't announce their challenge. They just arrived-ten strong, armored in war paint and bearing the scent of conquest. Their Alpha, Drekhan, towered over even Fenric. His eyes found Ashra first.

"I expected the killer Luna to be taller," he said.

Ashra stepped forward. "You expected to find us weak."

"I expected to find you torn apart after killing your own blood."

Ashra didn't blink. "You'll leave disappointed."

Drekhan grinned. "Or victorious."

He tossed something into the dirt between them. A pelt. Gray and gold. Fenric stiffened beside her.

Kira.

The pup they'd sent to negotiate peace.

Ashra's breath hitched. Her rage tasted like ash. But deeper still-something cold and sharp began to stir. A voice not her own.

Let me out.

She pushed it down.

But Drekhan had made a mistake.

He thought Ashra would break.

He didn't realize-she already had.

That night, the Blackmane wolves gathered in silence. Fenric stood before them, voice grave, calling for retreat. "We cannot match the Redclaw numbers. We must protect what we can."

Murmurs. Whines.

Ashra stepped forward.

"No," she said. "We fight."

Heads turned. Even Fenric looked startled. "You would lead them into death?"

Ashra's voice rang with steel. "I would lead them into honor. Into a future. Into a choice."

The pack waited.

Then, slowly, the wolves began to bow. Not to the Alpha.

To the Luna.

Ashra's eyes met Fenric's. There was no warmth there. No apology.

And then-

He turned and walked away.

She watched him go. Her mate. Her Alpha.

Her betrayer.

When the war horns sounded at dawn, Ashra stood at the front.

Alone.

Then, one by one, wolves joined her. The old. The wounded. The brave.

And when she howled-low and fierce and full of mourning-the stars answered.

And somewhere, deep in the old part of the world, something ancient stirred.

The Blood Moon's heir had awoken.

And the world would burn before it took her pack.

[End of Chapter One]