The dawn that rose over the Supreme's territory was pale and cold, its light filtered through a sky thick with silver mist — the kind that muffled sound and carried secrets.
From the far edges of the continent, they came.
Thirteen Elders, one from each clan, cloaked in the colors of their houses. Their banners bled through the fog — crimson, onyx, obsidian blue, and the bone-white of the witch coven. Behind each elder, lines of soldiers stretched into the horizon — armored vampires, shadow-casters, beasts bound in spell and oath. The earth trembled beneath the march of so many feet.
No horns, no drums.
Just silence, and the low growl of the wind.
They said it was a summit, a diplomatic visit to discuss the Supreme's recent decisions. But every creature who watched from the shadows — from tree lines, from high spires, from the edges of unseen wards — knew the truth.
This was not a meeting.
This was a siege wrapped in courtesy.
High above them, on a balcony veiled by mist, Dew watched the procession unfold.
He wore no armor, no insignia — just dark robes that shimmered faintly with binding runes. His eyes followed the long columns of soldiers, unreadable, serene. In his hand, a piece of ancient parchment glowed faintly — a summoning sigil pulsing like a second heartbeat beneath his skin.
Everything moved as he intended.
He didn't need to march with them.
He didn't need to stain his hands.
He only needed to let the world believe the Council moved of its own will.
"The Supreme has ruled long enough," Dew murmured, his tone quiet, almost reverent. "And love... has always been his downfall."
He turned away from the balcony, disappearing into the veil of shadow that followed him wherever he went. The faint scent of blood and ash lingered in his wake.
The Council's army spread like a dark tide across the valley. Wards shimmered faintly above the land — the defenses of the Supreme's territory — but already they pulsed under the weight of the approaching power.
Lightning broke across the sky, the flash reflecting against drawn blades and hungry eyes.
Every elder stood at the front of their division, their presence bending the air — ancient, terrible, resolute.
In the center of it all, a great black standard rose, embroidered with the mark of the Council.
The symbol of judgment.
They claimed they came to speak.
But every soldier carried steel that longed for blood.
Every spell prepared was one heartbeat from release.
And somewhere beneath that same dawn, in the quiet of PP's lair, Sky's party was already on the move — unaware that the world they were leaving behind was about to ignite.
----
The northern wind cut like glass.
Thin air swept down the mountain ridges, carrying with it the echo of wolves — old songs that hadn't been heard for centuries.
They had been running for hours.
Three wolves, one guardian, and two witches — streaks of silver and shadow across the frozen ground.
Even with supernatural endurance, fatigue crept into their limbs. Their breath misted in the cold air, dissolving against the pale light of the moon. Finally, Kazen, running ahead in his wolf form, slowed and shifted back into his humanoid form — dark hair tangled, eyes still glowing gold.
"We rest here," he said, voice low but commanding. "Even the moon must pause before she burns again."
Juno, ever the calmer between them, nodded. "The young ones are not made of iron, Alpha."
Behind them, Felix collapsed onto a smooth boulder, panting dramatically. "Not made of iron? Speak for yourself. I'm made of caffeine, sarcasm, and sheer willpower."
PP laughed, settling beside him and adjusting his cloak with a flourish. "And poor taste in shoes. Who runs through a mountain pass in imported leather?"
"Who climbs it wearing six layers of glitter?" Felix shot back. "You look like a misplaced disco ball."
"Disrespectful," PP said with mock offense, waving a hand. "You're lucky I'm too tired to curse you into a chicken right now."
Billkin stood nearby, silent as ever, his sharp eyes scanning the ridge. His hand rested loosely on the hilt of his blade. The flicker of PP's grin found him anyway.
"Still not going to talk to me?" PP teased. "Or is the stoic bodyguard aesthetic mandatory for Supreme employees?"
Billkin's jaw flexed, unimpressed. "Mandatory," he said flatly.
The single word earned laughter from the others. Even Felix chuckled.
"Careful, PP," Felix said. "He talks once a day. You just used up his quota."
"Then I'm honored," PP smirked, stretching his long legs. "Imagine dying tomorrow and never hearing that deep, brooding voice again."
Billkin shot him a sideways glance, equal parts annoyance and amusement.
The others found brief peace in their banter — a thin shield against the cold and everything waiting behind them.
A few paces away, Sky stood apart, his back to the group.
He looked up toward the mountains — peaks wrapped in mist and ancient moonlight. The air here hummed differently. Beneath the surface of stone and ice, he could feel it — the pulse of something old. A song buried under centuries. The birthplace of the Moonfire, the cradle of the Guardian line.
Kazen approached quietly, stopping beside him. The Alpha bowed his head slightly — not out of submission, but reverence.
"To walk beside you," he said softly, "is an honor our bloodline never thought we'd earn again. The descendants of Wongravee still carry her name in prayer."
Sky turned, a small frown pulling at his lips. "Don't bow," he said. "I'm just... Sky."
Juno, who had joined them, gave a small smile. "Perhaps. But you are also what she was. What she gave her life for. To us, that matters."
The wind stirred, lifting strands of Sky's hair across his face. His heart clenched.
He didn't answer. Couldn't.
Because in the quiet between heartbeats, he felt it — faint but unshakable — Nani's presence.
His warmth.
His pain.
It wasn't just a bond. It was a tether made of blood and fate.
Felix, noticing the faraway look in Sky's eyes, sighed softly. He leaned back against the rock, pretending to study the stars. "You're thinking about him again, aren't you?"
Sky didn't answer.
PP grinned. "Oh, our guardian is in love. The tragic kind — star-crossed, cursed, potentially world-ending. Very poetic."
Felix shot him a look. "You sound jealous."
"Only if he chooses to brood with someone else," PP quipped.
Sky shook his head, a faint smile tugging his lips despite himself. "You all talk too much."
Felix stood, brushing snow from his coat. "Yeah, well, someone has to fill the silence before you drown in it."
As the group settled for the night, the mountain wind howled faintly through the trees.
Beneath it, the pulse of the earth beat slow and steady — ancient magic stirring.
The land recognized its child.
And somewhere far to the south, that same magic whispered through Nani's veins, like a promise — or a warning.
The Moonfire had awakened.
And the world would never sleep again.
----
The moon hung high, veiled by rolling clouds — pale and watchful.
The air over the Supreme's territory crackled with restrained energy, the kind that precedes calamity.
Inside the heart of his fortress, Nani stood still before the tall, arched windows. The night pressed against the glass, heavy and cold. The faint glow beneath his skin — the sigil that bound him — pulsed softly, rhythmically, in answer to something far away.
Sky.
He closed his eyes.
Even oceans of land could not dull the bond. The guardian's light burned through the thread between them, calling — not in words, but in rhythm: a heartbeat made of moonfire.
Stay alive, it whispered.
Don't leave me.
The mark on Nani's collarbone flared again, searing white for a moment before fading. He drew a slow breath, grounding himself. The pain was almost welcome — proof that Sky still breathed.
But it was also a warning.
The curse was fully awake now.
Every ancient creature could feel it.
Every drop of immortal blood stirred with the echo of prophecy.
And the council had finally moved.
Bootsteps echoed across the marble hall.
William appeared, his expression taut with controlled urgency. Behind him, shadows of the Supreme guard lingered — silent, armed, ready.
"They've reached the outer ward," William said. "Thirteen elders, each with their own battalion. They've set camp in the lower clearing — a deliberate show of force."
Nani didn't turn immediately. His gaze lingered on the moonlight streaking across the glass. "And Dew?" His voice was quiet, almost too calm.
William hesitated. "Nowhere near them. He's the only one absent. I don't like it."
"No," Nani murmured. "You're not meant to."
The silence stretched, thick and expectant. Beyond the wards, the sound of distant movement — steel, wings, the low hiss of magic — trembled faintly through the night air.
"They won't cross yet," William said. "They're waiting for dawn. For formality's sake."
Nani finally turned. His eyes — deep crimson ringed in faint gold — burned with unspoken power. "Then let them wait. The moon is mine tonight."
He moved past William, the faint rustle of his robes trailing like a whisper of storm. Even injured, the sheer weight of his aura made the guards lower their heads, instinctively yielding to the power that pressed against their bones.
"Prepare the wards," Nani commanded softly. "But do not strike first. I will meet them myself."
William frowned. "You're still healing. Your body—"
"My body," Nani interrupted, "belongs to the war long before this one."
He stopped at the threshold of the hall, light spilling over the scars still glowing faintly along his shoulder and chest. For a heartbeat, his gaze drifted upward — as though through the sky itself, beyond the clouds, beyond the mountains — to where Sky was.
His voice softened, almost a whisper only the night could hear.
"Stay with me, Sky. Whatever happens next... remember me."
Outside, the wind shifted.
The thirteen elders stood at the edge of the Supreme's barrier, their banners fluttering under the pale light. Behind them, legions of soldiers — vampires, witches, and creatures alike — filled the forest clearing like an army of ghosts.
Above them all, the moon bled faintly red.
The curse had awakened.
The war had come knocking at the Supreme's door.
And Nani, the last heir of the First Blood, stepped into the night — ready to face them all.
The world held its breath.
The storm had begun to stir.