The gates of Ember's pack had always represented safety tall iron barriers reinforced with protective runes and generations of ancestral blood. They'd withstood rogue attacks, moonless sieges, and even the inner threats that came from traitors in their midst.
But today, those gates no longer felt like a boundary that kept danger out. They felt like a wall closing in.
A howl shattered the morning calm low, long, and layered with warning.
Three more followed.
Ember dropped the satchel she had packed and rushed toward the eastern watchtower. Her boots hit the stone stairs hard as she climbed. By the time she reached the top, Ronan was already there, shirtless, skin still slick from training, his eyes locked on the forest beyond the outer wall.
"They're here," he said, voice clipped.
Ember followed his gaze.
Wolves.
Dozens of them.
Not wild, not rogues organized. Each one bore the symbol of the Hollow Moon pack burned into their fur. They paced just beyond the ward line, too disciplined to be mistaken for a random patrol.
Then, slowly, one shifted.
Malric.
He rose to his full height, his shoulders squared like a king before a court, his expression unreadable. Beside him stood two elders and a warrior Ember didn't recognize a woman with coal-black braids and a blade strapped to her back.
"This isn't a fight," Ember said, her voice tight. "This is a statement."
"They want to be let in," Ronan muttered. "They're challenging nothing… yet."
Yet.
That word hung in the air like a dagger above their heads.
"Alpha Kael's still out on the western border," Ember said. "We're down three sentries. This is the worst possible moment."
Ronan's hands clenched the railing. "They knew that."
Below, the main gate creaked. Ember's mother, the former Luna, strode toward the threshold with a cloak wrapped around her shoulders and a cold fire in her eyes. Her hair was silver, not from age but from the day Kael was nearly killed in the Alpha War.
Ember moved fast. She descended the tower and reached her mother just before she pulled the iron lever.
"You're not opening the gate," Ember said firmly.
Her mother didn't look away. "You want answers. You'll get them. But this standoff will escalate if we don't acknowledge them."
"They came with force."
"They came with formality," she replied. "There's a difference."
"But they came because of me."
Her mother's eyes softened. "Then stand beside me when we speak. Show them you aren't afraid."
Ember exhaled hard, then nodded.
The gate groaned as it opened just wide enough for three to enter.
Malric.
The blade-bearer.
And an elder whose eyes shimmered silver.
They stepped inside, moving slowly but with confidence. Malric's gaze fell immediately on Ember.
He bowed not deeply, not submissively. A gesture of mutual power.
"My apologies for the unexpected arrival," he said, voice smooth.
"You could have sent a message," Ronan snapped, joining them.
"This matter is too important for parchment," Malric said without blinking. "And time is… no longer on our side."
Ember stepped forward, jaw set. "Then speak plainly."
Malric studied her. "The dreams have changed. The moon has begun bleeding in the sky. Three nights ago, we saw it with our own eyes. Red, then black. A sign of the Cursed Eclipse."
Ronan scoffed. "That's a myth."
"Then explain this." Malric turned to the female warrior beside him, who unfastened a scroll and unraveled it. Ancient symbols glowed across the parchment blood sigils, fire runes, and a central glyph that pulsed faintly as Ember looked at it.
She felt her flame stir inside her. Reacting. Reaching.
"What is that?" she asked.
"A prophecy," the woman answered. "One buried beneath the Hollow Moon tombs. It speaks of a child born from flame and void. One who will either destroy or renew the bond between worlds."
Ronan growled. "You think it's our child."
Malric didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Ember's silence said enough.
"I didn't come to threaten your pack," Malric continued. "But the time to choose is ending. The child is nearly full-term, yes? That child will trigger the eclipse."
Ember's heart pounded. "Trigger it how?"
"We don't know. But the last time the moon bled, the veils between realms were torn."
Her mother stepped in. "What do you want from us?"
"A pact," Malric said simply. "A temporary alliance. Let me and my ward remain here until the birth. Share knowledge. Protect the unborn heir. Together."
Ronan laughed bitterly. "You want to move in?"
"I want to survive. So do you. So does she." He looked at Ember again.
And though she hated it, she didn't deny the logic of his words.
She had felt the fire inside her grow wilder by the day.
Sometimes, when she dreamed, she saw a child with her eyes and Malric's shadow standing beneath a black moon.
"What if you're wrong?" she asked softly.
Malric didn't blink. "Then I leave. And I take the scroll. And you face the eclipse alone."
The decision tore at her. Ronan's fingers brushed her hand, grounding her. But the truth remained:
If this prophecy was real, if the child was the key…
She couldn't risk the world to protect her pride.
Not even for love.
"Three nights," she said. "You get three nights inside our walls. Share what you know. Help us prepare. Then we'll decide."
Malric nodded once. "That is all I ask."
But the flicker in his eyes said otherwise.
That wasn't all he wanted.
Not even close.
That night, Ember stood on the battlement, staring at the moon. It was pale now, innocent. But in her chest, the fire pulsed with rising heat.
And deep inside, the unborn child kicked.
Hard.
Harder than ever.
She pressed her hands to her belly and whispered, "Who are you going to be?"
Behind her, the wind carried a sound.
A howl.
No hundreds.
But not from the Hollow Moon wolves.
These were different.
Snarling.
Starved.
Coming.
.....
With enemies howling in the dark and an uneasy alliance forming within, can Ember protect her child from a threat that grows both outside the gates and within her own blood?