The moon hung high, silver and cold, over the Forbidden Forest.
Every creature stirred beneath its light. Every leaf and shadow knew the rules of the night.
King Brennan moved silently along the ridge. His senses were sharp. Every sound, every scent told him a story.
The pack awaited him at the clearing. Ten pairs of eyes glowed in the darkness.
"Alpha," one of the elders said, bowing low. "The law tonight is strict. Any breach will be punished."
Brennan's silver eyes scanned the forest. He did not speak.
The law of the full moon was older than any living wolf. Older than the trees themselves.
No human could enter the forest.
No pack member could leave without permission.
No bond could form without the Alpha's approval.
Breaking it meant death.
Even the Alpha was not free from its demands.
Brennan let his gaze fall on the moon. Its light reflected on his hair, his fur, his claws.
He remembered the last time the law had been broken.
The screams. The fire. The blood.
He clenched his fists.
The pack shivered, not from fear of him, but from fear of what the forest demanded.
"Tonight," Brennan said finally, his voice low but carrying through the trees, "all must obey. The law is not mine. It belongs to the moon. To the forest. To what has always been."
Silence answered him.
The wind whispered through the branches, carrying the warning far and wide.
Then came a faint scent.
Something foreign. Something alive.
Brennan's wolf growled under his skin.
A human.
In this forest, that meant danger.
And the law would not forgive.
He stepped forward, claws hidden, senses alert.
Something had changed.
The forest knew it.
And so did he.