The scent of rain lingered in the air, even though the skies above the forest remained dry. The battle was over, but the forest hadn't yet returned to its peaceful hum. Shadows clung to the trees like cobwebs, and the silence held its breath.
Kael stood at the edge of the camp, eyes fixed on the moon.
He hadn't slept.
The weight of the Pack's eyes, the weight of their survival, pressed heavy on his shoulders. The power that surged in him during the battle was still there—dormant, but burning, like a fire beneath the skin. He hadn't yet learned to call upon it at will. Worse yet, the Herald's words still haunted him:
"You are not yet whole."
And if Kael wasn't whole, then the Pack wasn't safe.
🧬 A Stranger in the Rain
"Kael!" Lyra's voice called from the treeline. Her tone was urgent.
He turned immediately.
She approached with two warriors at her side, and between them, slumped in a makeshift sling, was a young man—bloodied, breathing heavily, and wrapped in a torn cloak that barely hid a distinctive silver pendant.
Kael's heart stopped.
That symbol—it matched the one his mother once kept hidden in her wooden box. The mark of the Bloodborn line.
"Where did you find him?" Kael asked sharply.
"North of the glade, near the old guardian tree," Lyra said. "He was half-conscious, muttering something about the Moonblade… and you."
Kael crouched by the stranger's side, brushing damp hair away from his forehead. The man looked barely older than Kael. His skin was pale from blood loss, but his scent—wolf and magic and smoke—was familiar.
Suddenly, the man's eyes fluttered open.
They were the same silver as Kael's.
"…Kael?" he rasped. "So it's true. You lived."
Kael's breath caught. "Who are you?"
The stranger coughed and gave a faint smile. "I'm… your cousin. My name is Theren. Your father was my uncle."
🗝️ Secrets Unlocked
Theren lay under close watch while Brann and the elders debated the truth of his claim. But Kael didn't need proof. The resemblance, the scent, the silver pendant—it all rang true.
That night, Kael sat beside Theren by the fire.
"My father," Kael said quietly, "did he…?"
Theren nodded solemnly. "He died trying to protect the Moonblade."
Kael stiffened.
"The Moonblade exists? It's real?"
"More than real," Theren said, sitting up despite his injuries. "It's the ancestral weapon of your bloodline. A blade forged in moonlight, able to sever corruption at its root. It was our family's duty to guard it. But when the Crimsonborn came for it... your father gave his life to hide it again."
"Where?"
"That's the problem. The blade chose to vanish—just like it did generations ago. But I've been following signs. Clues. It's waking again. It's calling you."
Kael looked down at his hands.
First the Moonflare, now this. He never asked to be a symbol. A chosen heir. But the forest never gave without asking something in return.
🔮 Saerith's Prophecy
Before Kael could respond, Saerith the Lorekeeper appeared, her arrival so silent even the fire seemed surprised.
"You've heard the blade's name. So it begins."
Kael stood. "You knew about this?"
Saerith's eyes gleamed under her hood. "The Moonblade cannot be wielded by those who seek it for power. It reveals itself only to one who is bound by both blood… and purpose."
"Then why me?"
"Because," she said, stepping closer, "you're not just a Moonborn. You're the one the Eclipse fears."
Kael blinked.
Saerith raised a scroll and unfurled it. On the aged parchment was a painted prophecy: a young man, wolf-eyed and crowned in silver flame, standing atop a cliff with a glowing blade as monstrous shadows loomed below.
The words beneath it read:
"When the moon cracks and darkness spills, the wolf of ash and silver will rise, and with the blade of bloodlight, carve fate anew."
🛡️ Two Roads, One Choice
The Pack gathered by morninglight in the inner clearing, waiting for Kael's verdict.
The scout, Elian, stepped forward first.
"There's a village two days south," he said grimly. "The corruption's moving faster than expected. Their defenses are weak. If we don't send help, they'll fall."
Gasps and murmurs ran through the warriors.
Kael clenched his fists.
"But," Brann said from Kael's side, "Theren's trail to the Moonblade is growing cold. If we wait too long, we may lose it forever."
Silence.
Everyone turned to Kael.
Two paths. One choice.
Save lives now… or chase the only weapon that might win the war.
He looked up at the sky—clouds drifting past the moon.
"Then we divide," Kael said finally. "Brann, Lyra, and I will find the Moonblade. Saerith, take a defense unit south. Buy us time."
Gasps again—but this time, of respect.
He wasn't following orders anymore.
He was giving them.
🏞️ Into the Forgotten Hills
They left at dawn, Kael, Theren, and Lyra moving through the forest with swift precision. Theren, despite his wounds, led with purpose, pointing out landmarks etched in moonstone and whispers of faded magic.
Their destination was the Forgotten Hills, a range of peaks once said to house ancient temples of the Moonborn—now buried by time and myth.
As they approached, the forest thinned. The trees grew wider, older, twisted with secrets. Even Lyra, normally fearless, moved cautiously.
"This place feels… like it's watching," she muttered.
Theren nodded. "The blade's resting place is guarded. Not by monsters, but by trials."
Kael's pulse quickened.
Trials?
🔒 The Trial of Memory
They arrived at the temple entrance: a stone archway buried in moss, glowing faintly with silver glyphs. As they stepped through, the world around them shimmered.
Suddenly, Kael was alone.
The air was cold. He stood in the village of his childhood, the day his mother died.
"No," Kael whispered.
The Trial of Memory.
He saw her again—her smile, the way she tucked his hair behind his ear, the look of sorrow she wore the night she disappeared.
"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out. "You were always meant for more. Forgive me."
Tears welled in Kael's eyes. "You left me."
"I saved you."
He stepped forward, and as he did, the illusion melted. The path ahead opened.
He had passed.
🌓 Toward the Blade
When the three reunited beyond the temple gate, the air shimmered with anticipation. Before them, embedded in stone, was the Moonblade.
It pulsed with silver light, as if breathing.
Kael stepped forward.
"Only one with purpose may lift it," Theren whispered.
Kael reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt, a surge of energy ripped through the ground. Symbols flared to life. The blade lifted—not heavy, but inevitable, like it had always waited for him.
In Kael's hand, the Moonblade roared to life.
A howl echoed through the mountains—far away, yet close enough to feel.
The Eclipse had heard.
And the real war had begun.