Reign of the Forsaken Moon - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

The world had gone silent.
No howls.
No wind.
No stars.
Only the soft echo of sorrow whispered through the void that held Seraphina’s soul.
She drifted through the after-realm like ash upon the breeze, her once-mighty spirit reduced to fractured pieces. Her memories—her children’s laughter, Kael’s brave eyes, Lyra’s clever smile—floated around her like broken glass. Each fragment a wound.
Where once she had felt the primal thrum of the moon’s power in her veins, now there was only numbness. Silence. Darkness.
> "Mama..."
"Don’t go..."
"We’ll protect you..."
Their voices echoed in her ears, echoes from a time that had been snatched from her violently, cruelly.
Seraphina didn’t know how long she drifted in the void. Time did not pass in the spirit world as it did in the realm of the living. Here, grief was not counted in days or weeks, but in the weight of pain. She carried mountains.
And then, something stirred.
A ripple of light broke through the darkness, like silver water bleeding through a cracked sky. It was soft at first—then aching, pulsing, as if the heavens themselves had begun to mourn.
A voice followed it. Soft. Ageless. Infinite.
> “My child…”
The Moon Goddess.
Seraphina’s soul twisted at the sound. She tried to reach out, but had no hands. No body. Only raw, wounded essence.
> “You were taken before your time. Betrayed by the very soul I bound to yours,” the Goddess whispered.
> “Why?” Seraphina’s voice was but a thread of thought. “Why did you let this happen to me… to them?”
The light flared brighter. And with it came warmth—not comfort, but sorrow. The Goddess wept.
> “Even the divine are not free from prophecy. I gave you power, Seraphina. I gave you strength no Luna had ever wielded. But in doing so, I upset the balance. Fear breeds betrayal.”
Seraphina's soul pulsed, brimming with agony. “My children—Lyra… Kael—why take them too?”
The Goddess’s voice cracked with pain. “They were meant to be the future. And still may be.”
Seraphina’s soul flickered. “What do you mean?”
The light wrapped around her—silver threads weaving her spirit back together. Not as she had been, but changed. Different. Stronger. Scarred.
> “The Crimson Prophecy was never about your end,” the Goddess said. “It was your transformation.”
> “You will return to the world of the living. But not as queen. Not as Luna. You will crawl before you can rise. The world will not know your name. You will be hunted. Broken. Forgotten.”
Seraphina trembled. “Why… why suffer again?”
> “Because only pain can remake you. You must earn your rise from the ash. And when you do, your howl will shake the stars.”
The Goddess paused. “But this time… you will not be alone. Fate has spun a second thread for you.”
A vision bloomed.
A massive wolf with a coat of black smoke and silver eyes that glowed like dying suns. He stood at the edge of a battlefield, blood on his jaws, howling not in victory—but in grief. Seraphina felt a pull to him she could not explain. Something ancient. Binding.
> “He is your fated mate. But he, too, has suffered. You will find him… when you are ready.”
> “What about Thorne?” she asked bitterly. “He lives, doesn’t he? On my throne.”
The Goddess’s voice turned hard.
> “He has bound himself to darkness. There is no redemption for him. But you, Seraphina… you were chosen. The prophecy ends with your howl.”
Silver wind swirled violently now, lifting Seraphina’s spirit high above the void.
> “Now go. Live again. Reclaim your name. Your throne. Your vengeance. And your destiny.”
The light consumed her.
When Seraphina opened her eyes, she was choking.
Mud filled her mouth, water clogged her lungs, and every bone in her body felt shattered. She gasped and rolled onto her side, retching swamp water from her throat. She lay there for a long time, blinking at the strange sky above—dusky and unfamiliar.
She wasn’t in Silverfang anymore.
Her body—new, strange, and feral—ached with hunger. She looked down at her hands.
They were claws. Dirty, calloused. Her skin was darker now. Her frame smaller, leaner, like a lone rogue forced to survive in the wild.
Her magic was… quiet. Still inside her. But deeply buried.
Around her was a dense forest blanketed in fog and silence. Shadows slithered between trees. The scents were unfamiliar. She couldn’t even remember how far from her old kingdom she was. She was reborn, but powerless. Nameless.
And utterly alone.
Until a growl snapped through the silence.
She turned. Three wolves—snarling, mangy rogues—emerged from the trees, teeth bared, eyes burning with hunger.
Her instincts kicked in. She crouched, snarled, ready to defend herself.
But she wasn’t fast enough.
One of them lunged—teeth sank into her arm. Another slashed her back. Blood spilled on leaves.
She screamed—not just in pain, but in rage. The same rage that had once shaken kingdoms.
And just when she thought she’d die again…
A howl shattered the sky.
It wasn’t hers.
It was deep. Commanding. Earth-rattling.
A flash of silver tore through the fog. One of the rogues was hurled into a tree with a sickening crunch. The second was ripped open in midair. The third ran, tail between its legs.
Seraphina blinked up through her bloodied vision.
A wolf stood over her.
Massive. Black as void. Eyes glowing with that same silver fire from her vision.
He looked down at her—snarling at first… then still.
Something shifted in his gaze. He stepped forward and leaned close.
He sniffed.
Then froze.
> “What are you?” he growled.
Seraphina tried to speak. Her voice barely a rasp.
“I… don’t know yet.”
Then everything went dark.