The forest burned with moonlight.
Not the gentle kind — this light cut like glass.
The Blue Moon Pack had always been young — a small clan of wanderers led by Alpha Kazen, proud, reckless, loyal.
They weren't warriors; they were survivors.
Until tonight.
The first scream came just after midnight.
A scout, torn apart before he could shift.
Then another. And another.
By the time Kazen reached the clearing, the ground was slick with blood and ash.
"Hold the line!" he shouted, voice cracking. "Protect the den!"
The creatures moved like shadows given flesh — thin, fast, and wrong. Their eyes burned white, their claws dripping venom that sizzled where it fell.
Even the strongest wolves faltered under the poison. It smelled like decay and cold iron — a scent that meant only one thing: someone had dared to twist both vampire and wolf blood into one abomination.
Kazen shifted mid-charge, massive gray fur bristling, fangs bared. He tore through one creature, then two — but they just kept coming.
Too many.
Too strong.
Too late.
The youngest pack members huddled behind him, trembling. A little omega whimpered, "Alpha… they're coming from the trees."
And then —
the world exploded in silver.
A surge of power rippled through the night, flattening the grass, scattering the mist. The creatures shrieked, their bodies burning from the inside out.
Silver veins raced across their skin, splitting them open like glass under pressure.
The wolves shielded their eyes, howling against the brilliance.
When the light faded, only silence remained. The air still hummed with energy — raw, divine, ancient.
And there, in the center of the clearing, stood a figure.
Barefoot.
Shirtless.
Back to the moon.
His body was cut with claw marks still smoking, but already healing in threads of light. Across his shoulder blades, two sigils glowed faintly — one silver, shaped like the ancient mark of the Guardian; the other crimson, curved like blood and flame, Supreme's sigil intertwined with it as though they'd been born of the same spell.
Kazen dropped to one knee without thinking. The others followed, heads bowed low, their instincts whispering the same truth.
The Guardian had returned.
The figure turned slightly, moonlight catching on his hair and the faint burn of his skin — human, but not.
No one saw his face, only the aura of him: the calm in his stance, the weight of centuries in his silence.
Then, with a flicker of silver, he was gone — nothing left but the faint shimmer of power and the echo of a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
---
By dawn, the forest was crawling with whispers.
Every surviving wolf carried the same story — reverent, fearful, half in awe.
"The Guardian walks again."
The words spread like wildfire.
Through pack and clan, through shadow markets and blood courts — across every hidden vein of the supernatural world.
Among vampires, the elders trembled, remembering the curse that once split heaven and earth.
Among the wolves, the Alphas gathered in secrecy — half to worship, half to plot.
And in the highest room of Hirunkit Holdings, the Supreme Vampire stood before a wall of glass, unmoving.
He didn't need the reports.
He had felt it.
The flare of power — ancient, wild, and agonizingly familiar — had torn through him hours ago, driving him to his knees in the middle of the council chamber.
The echo of Sky's energy, his rage, his pain — it wasn't just distant. It was inside him.
Every time the Guardian's power surged, it pulsed through Nani's veins like fire threading through ice.
The sigil he had placed on Sky's neck had deepened the bond — no longer a simple ward, but a tether.
Each time the wolf bled, the Supreme felt the sting beneath his own ribs.
Each time Sky's fury rose, Nani's heartbeat faltered, syncing with it.
He touched his own chest absently now, feeling the faint warmth of the mark glowing beneath his clothes.
The connection shouldn't exist — not like this. The curse wasn't sealed, and yet it already coiled around them, blood to blood, soul to soul.
A union the seer had once promised would end the war... or start it anew.
For the first time in centuries, Nani felt something dangerously close to death.
He closed his eyes, and behind the darkness, he saw flashes — silver light, torn earth, a wolf standing alone beneath the moon.
Pain. Power. Defiance.
When he opened them again, his irises had deepened to molten gold.
A faint smile — colder than dawn, sharper than regret — curved his lips.
"So you finally stopped hiding," he murmured to the silent skyline.
"Let them come for you, Guardian. Let them all come."
He turned away from the window, voice dropping to a whisper only the wind could carry.
"Because every time you bleed, I'll know.
And this time… I won't let you die alone."
Below, the city glowed under the rising sun — unaware that the ancient curse had already reawakened, its threads of blood and moonlight binding tighter with every heartbeat.
----
The morning came soft and golden, streaming through the thin curtains of Felix's apartment.
For once, the city was quiet — no alarms, no shadows, just the hum of traffic and the clink of coffee mugs.
Sky stood by the mirror, buttoning his shirt, trying to look like a man who hadn't blown up half a forest the night before.
Felix sat cross-legged on the couch, a slice of toast dangling from his mouth, staring like he was watching a particularly dangerous wildlife documentary.
"Stop looking at me like that," Sky muttered, tightening his tie.
Felix chewed thoughtfully. "I'm just trying to figure out how you're still alive.
You got shredded by demon spawn, carried home by the Supreme Vampire, and now you're… going to work."
Sky shrugged. "Bills don't pay themselves."
"Neither do funerals," Felix said under his breath.
Sky ignored him, glancing over. "You're not going to cast anything on me?
Wards, charms, your usual witchy glitter?"
Felix blinked. "Ah, about that."
Sky frowned. "What?"
Felix slid off the couch, rummaging through a drawer until he pulled out a small vial. It was empty.
"See, usually when I do your wards, your aura's like a giant neon sign that screams I'm a wolf, come get me.
Now? It's like trying to read a text in ancient Sanskrit while blindfolded."
Sky paused mid-button. "…Meaning?"
Felix gave a dramatic sigh. "Meaning, my dear wolf, your Supreme Boyfriend—"
"He's not—"
"—your Supreme boss, fine, has basically shrink-wrapped your soul in vampire duct tape.
There's no point in me adding anything. The ward around you now? It's old magic. Ancient. Probably copyrighted."
Sky gave him a blank look. "…So what you're saying is, you're out of a job."
Felix flopped back onto the couch. "Exactly. I hereby resign as your personal witch.
No more charms, no more wards, no more life-saving discounts. You're the Supreme's problem now."
Sky grabbed his jacket, shaking his head. "You're impossible."
Felix grinned, raising his mug in salute. "And you're cursed, baby. We all have our burdens."
Sky sighed, heading for the door — but just before leaving, he glanced back.
"You sure there's nothing you can do?"
Felix hesitated, studying him — the faint shimmer still visible at the base of his neck, the mark that no magic could hide.
"Honestly?" he said softly. "I couldn't touch that magic even if I tried.
Whatever he did… it's not a ward anymore, Sky. It's a claim."
Sky froze for half a second — just long enough for Felix to catch the flicker in his eyes — before pushing the thought away and leaving.
As the door clicked shut, Felix sank deeper into the couch, muttering to himself,
"Great. My best friend's bonded to a walking apocalypse. I should've taken up pottery."