The lake lay silent beneath the pale shimmer of dawn.
Mist floated over the surface like breathing glass, the air cool and silvered by the fading moonlight.
Sky stood barefoot at the edge, his reflection rippling in the water.
The night wind carried the scent of pine and frost, yet beneath it—something else.
Blood. Fear. War.
He could feel it.
Far away, across mountains and oceans, the clash of magic and steel.
The pulse of power that wasn't his, but theirs—his wolves, his kin, his bond.
And above all, him.
Nani.
Sky closed his eyes, breathing through the ache in his chest.
Every heartbeat that echoed through that bond came steady, strong, calm.
So he matched it, heartbeat for heartbeat, until the storm in his veins softened.
"I'm okay," he whispered to himself, though he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.
"I'm okay because you're still there."
He kneeled by the lake, letting his fingers brush the water—
and the world shifted.
The air stilled.
The reflection beneath the ripples shimmered—
then pulled him in.
He gasped as the forest dissolved into white light.
When the brightness faded, he was standing on the same lake—but not the same time.
The moon above was full, impossibly bright.
The stars burned close, like they could hear him breathe.
And there—
a woman stood on the opposite shore.
Her hair, silver like the moon's edge, fell over a gown of pale blue flame. Her skin glowed with the faintest hue of light, and her eyes—soft, golden—looked straight at him.
Sky knew her name before she spoke.
Lira.
He couldn't move. The air itself seemed to bow around her presence.
Then another figure stepped from the forest behind her.
Kieran.
Not the Supreme.
Not the untouchable Nani he knew.
But a man—young, fierce, unguarded.
Kieran approached her like gravity itself drew him. His armor was dark, his eyes bright and trembling.
They stood facing one another, the world holding its breath between them.
Lira smiled, a sadness already in it. "You shouldn't be here, my Prince."
Kieran's voice was low, rough with restraint. "Then send me away."
Her eyes flickered with defiance and tenderness both. "You know I can't."
He stepped closer. "Then stop me."
Her lips parted, trembling. "If we do this, Kieran—"
"I've waited too long," he interrupted. "Too long pretending I don't feel you even when you're miles away."
Lira's hand lifted—she touched his cheek. "You'll burn."
He smiled faintly. "Then let me burn."
The moment froze—every particle of air turned electric.
Lira tilted her head, her throat exposed, her voice a whisper of surrender.
"Then drink."
Kieran hesitated for a heartbeat—then his fangs sank into her skin.
The moon exploded in light.
Flames of silver and red coiled around them, fusing in a violent, beautiful blaze. The ground cracked beneath their feet. The lake turned molten white.
And on their skin, a sigil burned into existence—
a mark of moonfire and blood star intertwined.
The bond was sealed.
And with it, the curse.
Sky fell to his knees, gasping as visions flooded his mind—
The world shattering, the sky raining fire.
A monstrous figure rising from the void—Mara, born of their forbidden union.
The war that followed.
The scream of Lira as she sacrificed herself to end it.
And Kieran, covered in blood, roaring her name until the earth itself broke.
The light dimmed.
The vision faded, leaving only Lira standing once more under the full moon.
She looked at Sky—directly now, her golden eyes soft but unbearably sad.
"My power is fading," she said gently. "But I waited for this... for you."
Sky's voice cracked. "You—waited for me?"
"You carry my moonfire," she said, stepping closer. "My curse. My hope."
He swallowed hard, throat tight. "You want me to stop it—to free him. But how? If he touches my blood, it burns him. If I reach for him, he bleeds."
Lira smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth trembling.
"It was never his blood that burned," she whispered. "It was his love."
Her hand rose, fingers brushing through Sky's hair like mist.
"Break the curse, Sky. Not with power... but with what he fears most to hold again."
The air shimmered. Her form began to fade into moonlight.
"Wait—please—what do you mean?" Sky stepped forward, reaching, but his hands met only water and reflection.
Her voice echoed, softer, fading into the wind.
"When the blood star and moonfire meet again... the world will burn. Unless the flame learns to love the fire."
Then she was gone.
The moon dimmed.
And Sky stood once again at the edge of the lake—alone, trembling, his reflection rippling back at him.
He touched his chest, feeling the mark under his skin pulse once.
Nani's heartbeat still there.
But now, for the first time, Sky understood the weight of it—
the bond that was both salvation and curse.
---
The lake had gone utterly still.
No wind, no sound. Only a faint shimmer rippling across the water's surface — like the world was holding its breath.
Sky's body trembled.
His chest felt like molten light lived beneath his ribs, crawling, burning, wanting out.
Then it began.
A pulse — deep and ancient — thrummed through his veins.
The silver glow spread along his spine, spiraling upward into an intricate sigil: the mark of Wongravee, the guardian's crest of the first moonfire bloodline.
Another pulse — brighter, sharper — ignited at the center of his chest.
The Guardian Mark itself, pure light bleeding from beneath his skin, each breath scattering sparks into the mist.
And last, near his throat, another mark flared alive — red-gold, shaped like entwined crescents.
The Supreme's seal.
Nani's mark.
All three burned together.
Light met light, resonance building until the air around him warped.
Every leaf trembled. The lake began to rise, drawn toward him in ribbons of shimmering water.
Sky gasped, his eyes glowing that same eerie pale-blue white.
His power — not wild this time, but alive — unfurled like wings made of flame and moonlight.
"...Nani," he whispered, his voice breaking through the light.
Then, the surge shattered.
Sky fell, body slamming against the wet earth.
"Sky!"
Felix's voice cut through the echoing silence, followed by hurried footsteps crashing through the undergrowth. He was first to reach him, skidding to his knees in the dirt.
Billkin appeared seconds later, eyes flashing amber, scanning the air for enemies.
The wolf inside him growled — the scent of ancient magic thick in the air, sharp like lightning and blood.
"His energy's off the charts," Felix hissed, checking Sky's pulse. "It's like he's glowing from the inside—"
Before he could finish, the ground trembled.
A faint hum vibrated through the soil, through them.
From deeper in the compound, PP's voice echoed — strained, loud enough to cut through the static.
"Felix! Don't—!"
But before the rest of the warning came, everything went silent.
Felix froze.
Billkin turned sharply toward the direction of PP's voice, his claws half-shifted, ready for anything.
Then—nothing.
The wind died.
The moon faded behind the clouds.
And the only thing left was Sky, unconscious but glowing faintly, the sigils on his body pulsing in rhythm with the distant heartbeat of someone else.
----
Supreme Territory, Warfront
Smoke filled the sky.
The night bled into crimson light, the scent of ash and iron thick as rain.
William wiped the blood from his cheek, his breath ragged. The outer wards were gone.
They'd been holding the line for what felt like days — blades dulled, shields broken, magic waning.
Yet still they stood.
The vampires of Hirunkit's house formed a defensive circle, sigils blazing faint red under their torn armor. The wolves beside them fought tooth and claw, their growls cutting through the chaos like thunder.
"Hold the formation!" William shouted, slicing through another elder's guard. His sword, black steel veined with red light, hummed in his hands as it met another strike.
The elder shrieked, crumbling under William's force. But there were too many.
Even with the Supreme's protection lingering in the wards, they were outnumbered ten to one.
Blood splashed across the ground.
The inner layer trembled.
The Council pressed forward.
And then—
the earth shook.
A sudden, deafening roar tore through the battlefield.
From the northern ridge, a burst of white flame streaked across the sky—
followed by a wall of black-winged soldiers, their armor etched with frost and silver sigils.
The Northern Banner.
At the front—Magnus himself, eyes glowing like icefire, his sword dragging frost in its wake.
From the east, the air shimmered—
a sea of crimson and gold.
The Eastern Contingent charged forward, led by Alexander, the heir of dawn. Fire trailed his every strike, his laughter sharp and defiant as he cut through the council lines.
William turned, chest heaving, disbelief flickering through his blood-streaked face.
"By the stars..." he muttered. "They came."
The Council forces staggered at the sight.
Two great continents—the North and the East—standing shoulder to shoulder with the Supreme.
A ripple of outrage tore through the Council ranks.
"You defy the Covenant!" one elder screamed, voice shrill with fury. "You betray your clans!"
Alexander smirked, his sword still burning.
"Funny," he said. "We prefer to call it loyalty."
Magnus stepped forward beside him, his voice cold enough to freeze bone.
"Supreme stands for balance. You stand for fear."
Their combined armies clashed into the Council's front line with thunderous force—
fire against frost, blood against shadow.
William straightened, eyes burning crimson as he raised his blade once more.
"Then let's end this," he growled.
And the night exploded in light.