Aria Blackwell's finger hovered above the shutter as adrenaline crackled through her veins. She didn't notice the chill in the air; she only saw the movement—shadows flickering between the pines of Central Park's unlit grove. Every instinct in her body screamed danger, but curiosity drove her forward. She clicked.
The camera's flash fractured the darkness, illuminating faces contorted in ritual ecstasy: gray-furred limbs, lupine eyes glinting beneath hooded cloaks, fangs dripping silver light. Aria's breath caught. Her pulse pounded in her ears like a war drum. She steadied her grip, heart threatening to bolt. This was the shot she'd been chasing for months—the proof that something inexplicable stalked the city's nights.
"Unbelievable," she whispered, sliding a fresh card into the slot. Her reporter's mind already cataloged every detail: the way moonlight pooled on wet grass, the guttural chant rising and falling in hypnotic cadence, the pack's synchronized tilt of heads. She framed another shot.
A guttural snarl sliced the air. Aria froze. She realized, too late, that her intrusion had not gone unnoticed. The pack's ceremony fractured in an instant. Leather boots pounded the earth. She pivoted, raising her camera like a shield, but they charged anyway.
Aria sprinted between trees, senses sharp as a hunting wolf's. Her boots slipped over damp leaves; branches snagged at her coat. Behind her, snarls and snarls, closer with every breath. She risked a glance—two pairs of crimson eyes trailed her flight like hunter and prey. Her heart seized, but she forced her legs to move faster.
Suddenly, the world tilted as a massive wolf-man lunged into her path. Aria yanked the camera up, jabbing the lens into its face. The beast recoiled, giving her a precious second's window. She snarled—an involuntary echo of its own fury—and bolted again, thrusting through the thicket.
Then he appeared: a tall figure draped in black leather, stance unflinching, eyes like polished silver. Relief washed over her until he stepped between her and the pack, arms splayed wide in silent warning. The wolves halted, ears flat, hackles rising. Aria sagged against his side, gasping.
"Get behind me," he said, voice deep as thunder rolling off distant hills.
She obeyed, fumbling with her camera to switch to video mode. Even trembling, she knew that her footage could change everything. The werewolf dossier that she'd poured her life into would finally shatter public disbelief. She raised the camera, but before she could press record, the man's gloved hand closed over her lens.
"Not tonight," he growled.
He yanked her against him and closed the distance, shoving her through a hidden gap in the trees. The pack erupted in furious howls, clawing at the barrier he'd created until he slammed a reinforced iron door behind them. The wolves scattered into the night.
Aria's breath came in ragged gasps. She staggered to her feet, eyes wide in the glow of torchlight. Around her, the clearing opened onto a vast courtyard surrounded by stone columns carved with lupine motifs.
"Where am I?" she demanded, voice firmer than she felt.
He turned. Moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face—high cheekbones, a cleft in his chin, eyes the color of storm clouds. He released her camera but kept his hand on it. "My name is Lucian Grey," he said, "and you're in Silverclaw territory."
Aria's stomach twisted. Silverclaw. She'd read myths, scrolled through conspiracy forums, dismissed them as sensationalist fantasy. Now every rational barrier collapsed. She swallowed. "Why did you save me?"
"Because you don't belong out there." He glanced over his shoulder as footsteps echoed beyond the door. "And because someone has to answer for what you saw."
She straightened, raising her chin. "I'm a journalist. I document truth. And right now, I have the images to prove it."
He let out a short laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "You think this is proof? You think that camera can contain what just happened? You're out of your depth, Ms. Blackwell."
Aria's pulse steadied. He underestimates me, she thought. "Then show me where my depth lies," she said. "Because I'm not leaving without that proof."
Behind him, the corridor opened into an ancient hall lit by flickering sconces. A long table carved from dark oak stretched to a dais where a circle of figures in ceremonial robes awaited their arrival. Each wore the silver wolf insignia on their chest—how she didn't notice their alpha insignias before, she couldn't say.
Lucian guided her forward. "This is the Alpha Council," he announced. "You are now our guest—whether you like it or not."
Each council member fixed her with unreadable gazes. She bowed her head briefly, ignoring the tremor in her knees. She had entered this realm by the lens of her camera, but now there were no lenses, no audience—only raw power and unspoken threat.
A rotund elder leaned forward. His eyes glinted with malice. "Journalist," he said, voice like gravel, "your intrusion into our rites is unprecedented. We demand to know why you violated our sanctuary."
Aria squared her shoulders. "Because people deserve to know the truth," she replied. "Because the world needs to understand what hides in its shadows."
Murmurs rippled around the hall. Lucian's hand settled on her shoulder. A small gesture, but enough to steady her. He met the elder's gaze. "She saw what she saw. The world must prepare."
The council erupted into shouting—some furious, some fearful. Aria blinked, heart hammering. This was the moment she'd chased all her career. But as she looked around the hall, she realized the stakes were far beyond any headline. There would be no turning back.
From the dais, a slender woman with ice-blonde hair rose. Her eyes burned like liquid silver. "You have opened Pandora's box," she said softly, but her words clanged like a gavel. "And now the prophecy stirs."
Aria's breath caught. Prophecy?
The tension snapped like a snapped branch underfoot. Lucian caught her arm and whispered, "Stay close."
She turned her camera to capture the woman's face—this was the moment that would change everything. The woman's lips curved into a knowing smile as she strode down the dais. Every eye tracked her movement. Then, with a voice amplified by unseen magic, she spoke three simple words:
"The Moonbound Sovereign rises."
Aria felt her blood run cold—and a spark of exhilaration ignited deep within her. She clicked the shutter once more, etching those words into pixels forever. Whatever lay ahead, she knew this would be the story of her life.
And then, beyond the grand doors, a howl that felt too close—for in that howl she recognized her own name.