The wind howled through the darkened forests of Black Hollow, carrying with it the scent of blood and the whispers of old ghosts. The towering pines, ancient and gnarled, stood like silent sentinels over the cursed land—a land where the Silverfangs and the Nightshades had spilled each other's blood for centuries.

Elias Stormbane stood at the edge of a jagged cliff, his silver eyes scanning the valley below. The moon, swollen and red with an eerie glow, hung low in the sky. He clenched his fists. The war had gone on for too long. Too many had died.

Behind him, the soft crunch of snow signaled the approach of his Beta and closest friend, Ryker.

"They're planning another attack," Ryker said, his voice grim. "The Nightshades are moving closer to our borders."

Elias didn't react. He had expected this. The Nightshades were as relentless as his own pack, both bound by a hatred neither side truly understood anymore.

"Let them come," Elias murmured, the cold wind whipping through his dark hair. "We'll be ready."

Down in the valley, another figure watched the Silverfangs from the shadows of the forest. Selene Nightshade gripped the hilt of her dagger, her amber eyes burning with fury. She had sworn to kill Elias Stormbane the moment she saw him. He was the heir to her enemy's throne—the one responsible for the death of her brother.

The scent of Silverfangs filled her nostrils, and her wolf stirred inside her, eager for blood. But before she could move, a voice whispered behind her.

"You'll get your chance, Selene," Damien Blackwood said, stepping from the darkness. His smile was sharp, dangerous. "But not tonight."

Selene growled low in her throat. "You expect me to wait?"

Damien chuckled. "I expect you to be patient. The Blood Moon is coming. And when it does…" He leaned in, his voice like poison. "The prophecy will begin. And everything you know will burn."

Selene's grip on her dagger tightened. She had no interest in prophecies or ancient curses. All she wanted was revenge.

Far above, the Blood Moon cast its crimson light over Black Hollow, and in the depths of the forest, something stirred—something old, something hungry.

The war was far from over.

#####

The scent of pine and frost filled Elias' lungs as he descended from the cliffside, his boots crunching over the icy ground. The weight of responsibility pressed against his chest, heavier than the thick fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders. 

The Silverfang Pack had ruled Black Hollow for generations, but their reign was built on an unending war—a war he had been born into. His father, Alpha Gregor Stormbane, was a ruthless leader who believed in dominance above all else. To him, mercy was weakness, and peace was a lie. 

But Elias… he wasn't sure he agreed. 

"Elias," Ryker called from behind, quickening his pace to match his Alpha's stride. "The patrols caught a Nightshade scout near the western border. He was alone, but that won't last. They're testing our defenses." 

Elias exhaled sharply. "They never stop, do they?" 

Ryker snorted. "And neither do we." 

They reached the clearing where the pack's warriors were training under the watchful eye of Beta Marcus, a grizzled veteran with scars that told stories of battles past. At the center of the combat ring, two younger wolves sparred, their movements quick, brutal. 

Elias barely glanced at them. His mind was elsewhere. 

His father was waiting inside the main lodge. That meant one thing: orders. 

As they entered the grand wooden structure, the air grew thick with the scent of burning firewood and the rich aroma of meat roasting over the hearth. Silverfang elders sat in a semicircle, their eyes dark with unspoken judgment. 

At the head of the table sat **Gregor Stormbane**, his presence dominating the room. His silver-gray hair was streaked with white, his sharp features etched with years of war. His piercing gaze met Elias' the moment he stepped forward. 

"You're late," Gregor rumbled. 

Elias clenched his jaw. "I was on patrol." 

His father scoffed. "A child's task. You are an Alpha, not a common scout." He gestured for Elias to sit. "We have more pressing matters to discuss." 

Elias sat, tension coiling in his muscles. "What is it?" 

Gregor leaned forward, his fingers tapping against the wooden table. "The Nightshades are growing bold. They've been moving closer to our borders, likely preparing for a strike." 

"We should strike first," one of the elders muttered. 

"No," Gregor said. "We won't waste our strength on reckless bloodshed." He turned to Elias. "I have a different plan. One that will end this war once and for all." 

Elias narrowed his eyes. "And what's that?" 

Gregor's lips curled into a cruel smile. "We're going to **break** the Nightshades. Not through battle. Through something much worse." 

A chill ran down Elias' spine, but before he could ask, Gregor's voice dropped to a whisper, laced with dark intent.

"The Blood Moon is coming, my son. And with it… the prophecy will awaken."

Elias stiffened. The prophecy. The one that spoke of a fate neither pack dared to face.

Something was coming. Something beyond war and hatred.

And Elias wasn't sure if he would survive it.

###

The forest was alive with whispers. Shadows stretched between the trees, and the distant howls of wolves echoed through the night. Selene Nightshade moved like a phantom, her boots soundless against the snow-covered earth. 

Her fingers grazed the hilt of her dagger, the cold metal grounding her as she trailed behind Damien Blackwood. 

"Are you certain about this?" she asked, her voice low. 

Damien smirked, his golden eyes glinting in the darkness. "Are you doubting me, little wolf?"