The storm above the mountains roared like the throat of an ancient god. Red lightning split the heavens, and each strike painted the battlefield in shades of madness. The earth trembled beneath the weight of two wars—one of men and wolves clashing steel to fang, and another of gods clawing their way into existence.
Selene stood at the center, her eyes burning like twin moons. Blood drenched her arms, her claws dripping with the remains of those who had thought they could bring her down. The Black Fang howled beside her, his body monstrous and majestic, fangs shining as though they were carved from the bones of stars.
But above them, something greater stirred.
The chains Selene had seen in her visions—the ones "beneath the sky"—were breaking. Invisible at first, then visible as cracks of gold across the sky. A shadow moved within them, too large, too infinite to belong to any mortal or wolf. A god's silhouette.
"Do you feel that?" whispered Alaric, his blade buried in the chest of a fallen enemy. He stood, panting, face bloodied but eyes alight with awe. "The gods are waking… and they're thirsty."
Selene didn't answer. Her gaze lifted to the sky, her chest heaving. In that moment, her blood sang. Not with fear, but with recognition. Something in that storm was calling her.
Her lineage. Her secret.
The one she had feared since the night she first tasted blood.
A tremor shook the ground, forcing warriors—friend and foe alike—to stagger. The rivers that ran crimson with spilled blood rose as though summoned by an unseen hand, spiraling into the air, offering themselves to the storm above. Drops rained back down, cold and thick, falling on faces and weapons like a baptism in slaughter.
"The sky is drinking the blood of the fallen," whispered one of the elders from Selene's pack. "The covenant… it's begun again."
Then came the voice.
It wasn't a voice anyone could truly hear with ears, but one that scraped through their skulls, coiled around their bones, and clawed into their hearts.
"Children of ash… you have slaughtered enough to break the locks. Now bleed more, and we shall feast."
Every warrior fell to their knees, clutching their heads in agony. Wolves whimpered, men screamed, steel dropped to the mud. Only Selene and the Black Fang stood against the voice, their bodies trembling but unbroken.
Selene's own blood boiled. Her vision blurred until she no longer saw the battlefield—only fire, oceans of blood, and the looming figure of a chained god.
A woman's voice whispered through her mind. "Daughter of blood and moon… you cannot deny what you are. You are the key, and you are the knife."
Her throat tightened. She staggered forward. "What am I?" she demanded into the storm.
The sky bled crimson. Thunder cracked like the shattering of worlds.
"You are the vessel," the voice answered, "of the god who was betrayed."
Alaric shouted her name. He ran to her, grasping her shoulders, shaking her. "Selene! Stay with me! Don't let them in—don't let them take you!"
But it was too late.
Blood erupted from the earth in fountains, coiling around her legs, winding up her body like serpents. They wrapped her throat, her arms, her chest, not to strangle but to mark. Ancient runes flared across her skin, glowing crimson and gold. She screamed, half in pain, half in ecstasy.
The Black Fang roared, charging toward her, but the blood serpents lashed out, throwing him back like a rag doll. He slammed into the mountain wall, stone cracking under his weight. His growl shook the ground, but he did not rise.
Selene's body lifted from the earth.
Her hair burned with light, her eyes glowed white. She could feel the storm not above her, but inside her. She was the storm, the blood, the hunger, the curse.
Alaric's voice was desperate now. "Fight it, Selene! Fight them! You're stronger than this! You're not a god's puppet—you're—"
Her scream silenced him.
It wasn't just a scream. It was a howl that tore through the battlefield, shattered weapons, split eardrums, and bent the knees of every wolf and man who heard it. Even the storm stilled, as though listening.
The blood serpents broke apart, raining back to the earth. She fell, landing in a crouch, her claws digging deep into the mud. Her chest heaved, her skin still glowing faintly with those cursed runes. Her lips dripped with blood—not hers, but someone else's.
She didn't remember biting anyone.
But the hunger inside her was undeniable.
She looked up, her glowing eyes locking with Alaric's. He staggered back. For the first time, fear flickered in his gaze.
Not fear of her.
Fear for her.
Because he knew what she had become.
Because the god's voice still lingered in the air, coiling through every shadow, whispering promises of dominion and vengeance.
"Rise, Vessel. Awaken the chains. The Blood Moon will be ours again."
The storm swirled violently, a blood-red vortex above them, and with a final crack, one of the golden chains in the sky shattered. The silhouette of the god moved, pressing closer to freedom.
And in Selene's veins, his power stirred.
Not as a curse.
But as her birthright.