Chapter 1 The prophecy
Prologue
The night of the crimson eclipse began with a silence so heavy it felt alive. The moon, drenched in red, hung above the forest like an omen that refused to fade. Beneath its light, thirteen witches gathered within a ring of ancient stone, their torches struggling against the suffocating wind.
Mist coiled around their feet as they began the incantation. The High Seer, Elda, stood at the center, her silver hair plastered to her face by the rain. Her voice trembled as she lifted her hands toward the burning sky.
“Spirits of the moon, keepers of the veil, we seek the truth written in blood,” she chanted, her voice cracking under the strain of the ritual.
The ground quivered beneath them. One by one, the flames bent inward, drawn toward their center. A low, terrifying sound rose from that point, followed by a voice that chilled bones.
“A child born of blood and moon shall rise to mend or end the packs.”
The witches recoiled as if struck. Their torches extinguished at once, plunging the circle into crimson shadow.
Elda gasped, clutching her chest as visions poured into her mind. Visions of fire devouring forests, wolves howling beneath burning skies, and a lone figure standing amid the carnage, silver flames bleeding from her eyes.
“The Lunaris Heir,” Elda breathed, trembling as tears streaked her face. “A soul bound by both bloodlines… a bridge or a blade.”
“No,” another witch whispered, stumbling backward. “No such being can exist. The balance would shatter. The packs would turn feral, the veil would collapse.”
Elda’s gaze darkened. “It is not for us to decide. The spirits have spoken. The prophecy is sealed.”
But fear had already taken root. The younger witches began to argue, their panic echoing into the woods. One fell to her knees, sobbing. “We must warn the packs! They’ll need to prepare!”
Elda’s hand shot out, silencing her with a sharp crack of magic. “And unleash chaos upon the realms? No. The packs must never know. The prophecy will sleep.”
They sealed the words within the Scrolls of Veritas, binding them in runes of blood. Yet secrecy could not erase the terror that had been born that night.
When the Great War erupted between witches and werewolves, the prophecy became the hidden spark behind every betrayal, and every slaughter.
Years later, when the fires of war died down, the packs turned their wrath on the coven. Witches were hunted, burned, and buried alive until the name Veritas became nothing more than a curse whispered by frightened children.
In the end, only Elda remained. Her body was frail, her magic nearly gone, but her will had not faltered. She fled through the ruins as the last of her sisters fell screaming behind her. In her arms, she carried a child wrapped in silver cloth, its faint cry rising above the smoke.
She pressed her lips to the child’s brow and whispered, “You will be hidden where fate cannot find you. Let the world forget until the moon bleeds again.”
Then she vanished into the ashes of the fallen Eclipse Pack, and the forest swallowed her name.
Only the prophecy remained, waiting for the child who would one day fulfil it.
Chapter 1
Lyra's POV
I had been jolted awake by the same terrifying nightmare for days, a haunting loop that refused to release me. Each night or day, the visions returned, silver chains searing into my skin, a roaring fire threatening to swallow me whole, and a man with golden eyes burning with hatred. I never saw his face, only the fury in his eyes as he tried to reach for me.
That evening was no different. I shot upright, heart pounding, breath ragged, my sheets damp with sweat. My eyes stayed wide open and fixed on the wall as I tried to make sense of what I had just seen.
Tremors still ran through my body when a gentle tap on my shoulder made me flinch violently. My head snapped to the side, and I exhaled when I saw my aunt sitting at the edge of my bed.
Her face was drawn with concern. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.
I could only nod twice, forcing out a shaky breath of relief.
“Was it the same dream again?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.
Aunt Mia always tried to hide her fear, but her eyes betrayed her every time. She was more than an aunt to me. She was the only mother I had ever known. I called her aunt only because she instructed me to. She has always said it would have been an honor for her to give birth to me, but she wasn't chosen for that and she didn't want to take my birth mother's place. Aunt Mia had raised me alone after my parents died when I was just a baby. Even now, as the years weighed her down and her strength began to fade, she still did everything she could to protect me.
“It was the same dream, Auntie,” I murmured, rubbing my hands together. “But this time, it felt stronger. I still didn’t see his face.”
Her gaze dropped to my right hand, and I watched her expression shift from concern to alarm. “Oh, dear heavens,” she whispered, grabbing my palm. “This is not a good sign.”
Only then did I notice the bright glow pulsing from the crescent-shaped mark etched into my skin. It shimmered brighter than ever before. I had hidden that mark all my life, especially on full moon nights when it glowed faintly through my skin. Aunt Mia had always warned me to keep it hidden from prying eyes, and I had obeyed, wearing gloves whenever I stepped outside.
My chest tightened. “Whats wrong, Auntie? Why is it so bright?” I asked, panic rising in my voice.
Aunt Mia’s lips trembled as she spoke. “Your recurring dreams, the mark glowing like this, it can only mean one thing. The enemy is closer than we think.”
“The enemy?” I echoed, my voice shaking. “Do you mean werewolves?”
I was part werewolf myself. I heal fast, my hearing is superb, but I had no scent and hadn't met my wolf yet at 22. Worse, I had never met any werewolves in real life. They would never accept me and wouldn't spare me.
I swung my legs out of bed, unwilling to miss a single word Aunt Mia would say. There were so many things she had promised to tell me but never had. If she was finally ready to explain, I wanted to hear it all.
But instead of answering, she said something that froze the blood in my veins. “We have to leave Dorhaven, Lyra. This place is no longer safe. I can feel danger closing in.”
“Leave?” I repeated in disbelief. “Where would we even go? You have no relatives or friends anywhere else.”
Before she could respond, a sudden, urgent knock rattled the door. Both of us turned our heads sharply toward the sound.
“Stay here,” Aunt Mia whispered, standing quickly. She peered through the peephole before opening the door.
“Vero?” she said, recognizing the woman outside. “What’s wrong?”
“Chief sent me to get you,” Vero replied, her voice tight. “He said it’s urgent.”
Aunt Mia’s shoulders stiffened. “I’ll be right there.” She walked back inside, grabbed her veil, and turned back to me briefly. “I have to see the chief. I’ll return soon.”
“I can get the herbs while you’re gone,” I offered.
She stopped mid-step and looked back at me, her expression stern. “No, Lyra. Do not go anywhere. I’ll get the herbs when I return.”
Then she slipped out, closing the door behind her.
I sighed and sank back into the bed, staring at my palm until the glowing faded. The sight eased me slightly, but not enough to quiet the unease twisting in my gut. I had done nothing wrong, yet I was being hunted.
Barely half an hour after Aunt Mia left, the sound of hurried footsteps and ragged breathing reached my ears. Someone was outside, struggling. My curiosity overpowered my caution, and before I realized it, I was already moving toward the window.
Through the cracked glass, I saw a man staggering toward our house. His clothes were torn, his body streaked with blood. He looked foreign to Dorhaven, and every step he took seemed to drain the last of his strength.
“Water… please… somebody…” he gasped before collapsing face-first into the dirt.
My heart leapt. Without thinking, I grabbed a jar of water and rushed outside.
“Sir, are you all right? Here, drink this,” I said, kneeling beside him. He did not move, and fear gripped me as I leaned closer to check his pulse.
Before I could touch him, his hand shot out and seized my wrist. The force of it sent a cold shock racing through me, and for a moment, I could swear my soul leapt from my body.