Rain fell in silver sheets across the forest, each droplet catching the moonlight and splintering into a thousand tiny stars. In the deep dark of the woodland, the wind whispered through the branches, and the world felt suspended between dream and danger.
A lone figure trudged along an overgrown path, heavy boots splashing through puddles. Her name was Ayana Delacroix. She was soaked to the bone, hair plastered to her face, her leather jacket already stiff with cold. But she did not stop. Not yet. She would not allow hesitation—her heart hammered with urgency.
Ayana's breath came in ragged gasps. She paused beneath a gnarled oak, pressing her hand against its damp bark to steady herself. Her eyes, dark and determined, scanned the shadows beyond the path. Somewhere in that labyrinth of trees, something waited. Something she must face.
Her mind flickered back to the warning she had received only hours ago in the village of Raven's Hollow. The old man's voice had been trembling, his eyes glassy with fear: *"They say the alpha has awakened. The moon is bound tonight. Be wary of the howl. Do not stray."*
She had scoffed, of course. Wolves, curses—folklore. But when the villagers' children had vanished, when the howl had echoed through the hills and silver light had danced across broken bodies, she had not scoffed for long.
Now she was here, alone.
As she walked on, her foot caught a root, and she stumbled forward. For a moment, she thought she would fall—but a low growl made her freeze mid-step. Her heart thundered in her ears.
From the darkness ahead emerged a pair of golden eyes. The light glinted off fur like wet steel. The creature stepped forward—massive, powerful, its muzzle lifted in a silent snarl.
Ayana sucked in a breath. Her legs trembled, but she forced herself to stand firm. Her hand edged toward the dagger at her belt—though she doubted it would protect her.
"This isn't where you belong," she said, voice low. She could hear it crack with tension. "Go back."
The wolf's ears pricked. It stood still, gauging her. Then it lunged—fast as lightning.
She raised her dagger, but the wolf was already upon her. A shock of pain jolted through her shoulder as she tried to fend it off; it snarled and retreated, its eyes glowing. The forest was suddenly alive with howls, a haunting chorus.
Ayana fell back, pain slicing through every nerve, but she refused to give in. She gritted her teeth, pushing herself to her feet. She ran, weaving through trees, branches whipping her face, blood and rain mingling on her skin. In the distance, the wolf's silhouette glided between trunks, pursuing.
And then, light—moonlight—erupted through the canopy. It fell upon her in a pale, fragile beam. The world slowed. The howl right behind her froze mid-call.
She turned, drenched and trembling, and there it stood. The wolf—huge, regal, fierce. Its eyes locked with hers. The howl echoed again, deeper, resonating in her bones.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
The alpha wolf tilted its head, as though studying her. Then, to her astonishment, it spoke—not in words she understood, but in a voice she felt. A low rumble. A presence in her mind, distinct and sharp.
*"You have awakened me."*
She staggered. Her mouth went dry.
*"You are bound to the moon. You carry the curse."*
She had no idea what that meant, but she understood it was not a threat—it was a statement. A declaration.
Tears stung her eyes, but she swallowed them. She had come too far.
"Why me?" she demanded, voice trembling.
*"Because the blood runs true,"* came the voice, as though from the earth itself.
Lightning flared across the sky. The forest shuddered. Ayana felt shards of power pulse in her veins—ancient, wild. She staggered, doubled over.
A fierce howl rose behind her—and then all hell broke loose. Figures emerged from the shadows: men and women, pale-eyed, their faces etched with hunger. They advanced on Ayana, drawn by the same call.
The alpha wolf growled, a resonant, commanding sound, and charged. The creatures hesitated.
In that moment, Ayana lifted her hand. Silver light spilled from her palm—electric, searing. She had not known she could summon it. But it came anyway.
One of the pale-eyed figures lunged. Ayana thrust her hand. The lightning crackled, burning the figure, and it fell to the ground.
Another came, snarling. The wolf tore into its flank, tearing flesh. The battle was savage. Ayana wanted to scream, but she bit back the sound.
Finally silence fell. The forest echoed with ragged breathing. The moon shone bright above, oblivious to the carnage.
Ayana sank to her knees, trembling. The wolf approached, its eyes softer now. It nudged her gently with its muzzle.
*"You are bound. The curse is real. And the night is only beginning."*
She closed her eyes, letting the rain wash the blood and fear from her.
Somewhere in the forest, a wolf howled.
She rose, wiping her face, turning to the creature. "Then show me," she said. "Show me what this means."
The wolf's eyes glowed, then it turned. It walked away, pausing once to look back, beckoning.
Ayana followed.
In the clearing ahead, the moon rose full and radiant. The earth pulsed with energy. The forest was silent now—too still.
She stepped forward. The silver light touched her skin. The title whispered in her mind. *MoonBound: Curse Of The Alpha.*
She inhaled, steadying herself, and walked into the light.