Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The full moon hung low over the Silverfang Dominion, casting its pale light upon the towering peaks of Mount Thalor. Beneath its glow, the vast stone fortress of Moonspire Hold shimmered like a relic of legend, its silver-etched banners flapping gently in the cool midnight breeze. It was the seat of the greatest werewolf kingdom in the northern realms—and at its heart, stood Luna Seraphina Nightshade.
Clad in a silver gown woven from moonthread and obsidian silk, Seraphina paced along her balcony, her sharp golden eyes scanning the stars. Her long raven hair flowed behind her, and her aura pulsed with quiet authority. She was no ordinary Luna. She had been touched by the Moon Goddess herself—chosen at birth, crowned in battle, and adored by the people she ruled.
Inside her chambers, laughter echoed from within. Seraphina smiled.
“Lyra, give that back!” shouted Kael.
“You said I could borrow it!” Lyra giggled, sprinting past the doorway with her twin brother’s carved dagger. At eight years old, the two children were as different as moon and fire. Lyra’s gifts of foresight and wisdom often left elders speechless, while Kael's fierce loyalty and natural leadership reminded everyone of his mother.
Seraphina turned from the balcony and stepped inside, her heart warming at the sight of them. “Enough, you two,” she said gently, her voice calm yet commanding. “Come sit with me.”
The twins obeyed, racing to their mother’s side. She pulled them into her arms, closing her eyes as they nestled against her. These were the moments she lived for. Not the ceremonies, not the councils or battles—but this. The warmth of her children. The innocence still untouched by the venom of politics.
“Will I be strong like you, Mama?” Kael asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.
“Stronger,” Seraphina whispered. “Both of you will be greater than I could ever dream.”
If only she knew.
That night, the seer arrived.
Clad in gray robes stitched with the bones of owls and wolves, the Oracle of Draeven was a creature of myth. It was said she had been alive for over two centuries, walking between the spirit and mortal worlds. Only summoned once in a generation, she came without warning, her blind eyes covered by a veil soaked in wolfsbane.
The throne room fell silent as she entered. Even Alpha Thorne, seated beside Seraphina, looked uneasy. His once-warm brown eyes had grown colder in recent moons, though she had told herself it was the weight of the crown, not a shift in his heart.
The seer’s voice was a rasp of wind and earth.
> “The Crimson Moon rises. The blood of the she-wolf shall fall. A crown will crack, and betrayal shall bloom from within. Her pups shall howl no more. From ash, she will rise. Twice-born. Marked by pain. Forged in death.”
A collective gasp rippled through the council chamber. Seraphina’s hand instinctively went to her children, who stood behind her.
“What does it mean?” Thorne demanded.
But the Oracle simply turned and walked away, disappearing as swiftly as she had come.
In the days that followed, unease settled over Moonspire Hold like a shadow.
Whispers began. About the prophecy. About Seraphina. About whether she had grown too powerful. Too… divine. Rumors spread that she no longer needed Thorne—that the Luna was stronger than the Alpha.
Seraphina noticed how the warriors averted their gaze more often. How her friends gave short answers. How even her brother, Magnus, avoided her touch. The rot had begun, silent and steady.
And worst of all—Thorne had grown distant. Nights once spent tangled in passion became cold and wordless. He no longer touched her with affection, only obligation. His heart, once tethered to hers by soul and spirit, had drifted.
She confronted him one evening beneath the moonlight.
“Something is changing in you,” she said, her voice steady. “Don’t lie to me, Thorne.”
He looked at her, and for the first time, there was no warmth in his gaze.
“You’ve changed,” he replied. “You no longer ask—you command. The people see it. You shine too brightly, Seraphina. And they fear what outshines the Alpha.”
Her heart cracked, but she did not show it. “Is this jealousy… or something worse?”
He turned away. “The prophecy is clear.”
She stepped toward him, trembling now. “You believe I’m the downfall of this kingdom?”
Thorne said nothing. But silence, she realized, was the sharpest betrayal of all.
The attack came on a moonless night.
Seraphina was woken by screams. Smoke curled through the palace halls. The royal guard had turned—wolves she once called brothers now bore blades against her.
She found Lyra and Kael huddled in their chambers, trembling.
“We’re under attack!” Lyra sobbed, her foresight having failed her for the first time. “Mama—Kael was bleeding in my dream!”
Seraphina shifted into her wolf form—tall, silver-furred, with eyes like gold fire—and tore through the corridors. She cut down every traitor in her path, her only thought: protect them. Save them.
But it was a trap.
In the throne room, waiting, stood Thorne. Behind him, dark warlocks from the Crimson Hollow.
“You...” she whispered, horror sinking in. “You made a deal.”
Thorne didn’t look at her. “The kingdom needed balance. You were becoming something else. Something dangerous.”
Kael growled. “You’re the danger!”
The warlocks raised their staffs. Red light flared.
Seraphina screamed, shielded her children—but it was too late.
She watched them die.
Their small bodies collapsed behind her. Lyra’s hand reached out. Kael whispered “Mama…” one last time.
Then came the blade.
Plunged through her back by Thorne’s hand.
As her vision dimmed, Seraphina collapsed beside her children, blood soaking the marble floor. The betrayal. The agony. The loss. It tore her soul in half.
“I curse you,” she whispered, voice ragged. “May the moon turn its back on you.”
And with her last breath, Seraphina Nightshade died beneath the shattered crest of the kingdom she once ruled.
But her story… had only just begun.