Evening had settled over Moonveil, quiet and heavy like a warning in the wind. Inside the dimly lit hall, a decision had been made. The Moonveil elders were firm in their conviction and sat in silence, the weight of their agreement lingering in the air.
Aldric didn't say a word. He just stared at them with his tired grey eyes, hollow from years of loss, of watching everything he fought to protect slowly fade.
They all thought he was doing this for revenge—for the blood Lunarion had spilled, for the lives taken, the scars left behind.
None of them knew the truth.
An elder asked from the shadows, "Have you called them?"
All heads turned to Ciara.
She nodded slowly. "Yes. They've already begun to move."
Aldric closed his eyes for a moment.
It had begun.
And there was no turning back.
—-----
Hours later, under the cover of darkness, three Moonveil wolves breached the edge of Lunarion territory.
Not rogues. Not warriors.
Assassins.
Trained to kill without sound. Without mercy.
They moved like shadows, cloaked in scent blockers and moonless silence. Their paws barely touched the ground as they slithered past patrols, ducking behind walls and slipping between blind spots. Every heartbeat calculated. Every breath counted.
"We find the True Blood Alpha's chambers," one whispered. "It'll be heavily guarded."
And it was.
Two elite guards stood watch outside the Alpha's door . Tall. Broad. Unflinching.
But not fast enough.
Fftt.
Twin poisoned darts flew through the air—barely a whisper—piercing both guards in the neck.
They collapsed without a cry.
The assassins moved.
Inside the chambers, Zyra slept. Barely.
The moment the door creaked, her eyes snapped open—feral, sharp, instinctive.
But they were already mid-air.
Blades drawn. Fangs bared.
Zyra roared, launching off the bed as claws met steel. Blood sprayed across the room. One slash to her arm. A kick to her gut. She stumbled but didn't fall. She fought with pure fury—years of war carved into her muscles.
She reached out, through the link.
"Kael, come here, Now!."
The door burst open like thunder.
Kael stormed in, eyes glowing, rage like a storm behind his fists. He tore into the attackers without pause—bones cracked, bodies hit the ground, groans muffled under boots.
And then—
The wind changed.
Windows slammed open. Cold air exploded into the room.
Then it came.
A shadow—formless, dark, and violent—swirled in through the open windows like a curse born of smoke. It gathered, then shaped itself into a tall, writhing figure.
No eyes. No face. Just malice.
It moved.
Straight at Zyra.
It struck like the wind itself had learned how to kill. A slash here. A slice there. She barely dodged the blows, silver eyes wide with disbelief.
"What the hell....."
Kael didn't wait. He grabbed a long wooden pole from the floor, jammed it into the fire, and swung with all his might.
Crack.
The burning wood met the shadow mid-air.
A scream—not human—pierced the room.
The shadow convulsed, pulling back in agony before it began to melt, the edges of its form curling away like burnt paper.
Gone.
Silence.
Zyra was panting, sweat beading on her brow, her claws dripping.
She turned slowly to the three Moonveil wolves—bloodied, broken, restrained.
Her eyes gleamed silver.
"Who sent you?" Her voice was calm. Too calm.
They remained silent.
Kael didn't. He drove his boot into one of their ribs.
"Answer her!"
Blood coughed up.
Still nothing.
Zyra knelt, her face now only inches from the nearest one. Her tone dropped—deadly quiet.
"I said… who the fuck sent you?"
This time, one of them spoke. Voice trembling, chest heaving.
"It… it was the Moonveil leader," he choked out. "Liora Veylan."
Silence dropped like a blade.
Zyra rose to her full height. Slowly. Coldly.
Her hands trembled—not from fear, but from rage.
"Oh," she whispered, too calm. "So this is her revenge. For what I did to her. For that miserable body I barely used for my rut—"
Kael blinked, stunned. "Wait—what?"
Zyra stiffened, but Kael stepped forward. "What are you talking about, Zyra?"
She exhaled, jaw clenched. "Mother and I… we needed a piece of her. Her hair. For a ritual. It failed."
Kael frowned. "But what does that have to do with your rut?"
Zyra looked away. "That was my way of getting the hair. I… I slept with her. Just enough to leave with strands."
"You… What?" Kael's voice cracked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wasn't allowed to," she snapped. "It was forbidden. Celestine said secrecy was part of the magic."
Kael's face was a cocktail of confusion and betrayal. "Zyra…"
"I know," she cut him off. "But we don't have time for this now. What matters is that they broke the pact."
The fire crackled louder now.
"Kael," her voice dropped, sharp like a knife. "Remind me of the laws. The pact."
Kael stood straighter, jaw clenched.
"No pack may infiltrate another's territory or harm its leader, punishable by death and worst is they even used sorcery and they know that coming in contact with witches is a crime in both packs.
Zyra's lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Good."
"Lock them up" Zyra commanded kael
The three were still traumatised by the shadows, they tried to tell zyra that they didn't come with the shadow but their mouths were damaged , lips bruised.
Kael nodded. Without hesitation, he grabbed the assassins by the throat, dragging them out of the room like sacks of meat.
Then, Zyra was alone.
Silence.
She let out a slow, controlled breath.
So. Liora had come for her head.
So. She had dared to attack her while she rests.
Zyra's hands curled into fists.
She would not let thar Omega win. She doesn't know who is messing with.
Liora wanted to destroy her?
But she would destroy her first.
She turned, already storming toward the war room.
Her voice echoed like thunder:
"Ready the army."
"I will bring fire and ruin to that miserable pack."
"We're paying the Omega a visit …by dawn," Zyra said, her voice ice-cold.
And it won't end well at all.
—---
Liora had woken before the sun, pulled by the cries of a laboring Omega in the village outskirts. One of her duties—one she held dear—was to help with births when needed. She crouched beside the young she-wolf, offering her strength and calm through every contraction, her hand resting gently over the Omega's belly.
"It's okay," she whispered, wiping sweat from the girl's brow. "You're doing so well. Just one more push."
The child arrived with a sharp cry, healthy and whole. Liora wrapped the newborn in a soft cloth, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as the mother wept in relief.
Moments like these grounded her.
They reminded her that even in a world of blood , enmity and strive , life still fought to bloom.
She had just stepped out into the morning light, stretching her arms when the wind shifted—sharp, cold, carrying something foreign.
Footsteps pounded against the ground. A young messenger skidded to a halt before her.
"Leader!" he gasped, eyes wild. "Lunarion is outside our gates. They're many… they're armed. It looks like they're asking for war."
Liora's blood ran cold.
Sera appeared beside her in seconds, her twin daggers strapped on her things and in her hand silver-tipped spear . "What?" she snapped. "We didn't do anything to them! Can't they just let us be?"
They all walked towards the gate, using the lift to reach the walls.
But before Liora could speak—
Fwhip.
An arrow tore through the air, fast and sudden.
A sharp cry followed.
One of their warriors dropped to the ground—an arrow buried deep in his chest, blood gushing in hot streams.
Chaos erupted.
Liora's heart thundered in her ears as her eyes locked on the horizon.
And there she saw her.
At the front of the army, cloaked in black
Zyra.
A savage smile on her face.
Their eyes met across the distance—Alpha to Omega, enemy to enemy.
And Liora realized—
This wasn't a warning.
It's war.