The forest was quieter than usual that night. Even the wind tiptoed between branches, as if afraid to disturb what was coming.
Seraphina's dreams had grown darker with each passing moon. That night, it returned—more vivid than ever. She stood in a place unfamiliar yet strangely known: a mountain cliff bathed in the glow of a crimson moon. Below, a sea of silver wolves howled, and above them, a cloud of bats swirled like a living storm.
A woman cloaked in fur stood at the edge of the cliff, holding a child whose skin glowed faintly with a red mark pulsing like a heartbeat. And then, a voice—ancient, feminine, and echoing through time—whispered like wind across tombstones:
"From fangs and fire, from blood and moon,
The one born of war shall rise too soon.
Doom or deliverance, the child shall be…
What death cannot tame, nor fate shall foresee."
Seraphina jolted awake, gasping. Her room was still wrapped in shadows, her blanket tangled around her legs like vines. She pressed a hand to her chest, where her mark seemed to throb in rhythm with the words still ringing in her mind.
She had heard the prophecy before—but never this clearly. Never this intimately.
By morning, her restlessness had turned into a gnawing ache inside her ribs.
The pack's morning training session was in full swing when she stepped outside. Claws slashed against the ground. Growls echoed. Fur flew.
Seraphina kept to the edge of the clearing, watching the others shift with ease and grace. Her own wolf—if it even was a wolf—remained stubbornly buried deep inside her.
"Look who finally crawled out of her coffin," someone sneered.
Seraphina turned slowly. Rina, the alpha's daughter, stood smirking beside two other pack teens, their eyes gleaming with mockery.
"I'm surprised the sunlight didn't burn you."
A few chuckles rippled.
Seraphina forced herself to stay calm, her fingers digging into her palm. "Leave me alone, Rina."
"What if I don't?" Rina stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "Your blood doesn't belong here. You're neither one of us nor one of them. Just a cursed mistake with a glowing scar."
The words stabbed sharper than claws. Around them, others pretended not to hear. They always did. No one wanted to get involved with her.
"I said leave me alone," Seraphina whispered again—but her voice trembled.
Rina laughed. "Or what? Gonna sparkle at me?"
That's when it happened.
The air around Seraphina changed. A wind burst from nowhere, swirling leaves in a circle around her feet. The trees creaked. Even the birds fell silent.
Rina's smirk faltered. "What the hell…"
A strange heat rose in Seraphina's chest—wild, electric. Her eyes burned. Her heartbeat sounded louder than it should.
"Seraphina!" a voice shouted from across the training field. It was her uncle—the pack's beta. "That's enough!"
Just like that, the wind died. The silence lifted. And the moment was gone.
Without another word, Seraphina turned and ran—away from the pack, away from the pain, and into the woods that had always felt more like home than anywhere else.
The trees embraced her as she stumbled through the underbrush, her breaths sharp, her chest aching. She stopped near an ancient oak and sank to her knees.
She didn't cry.
Not this time.
She just sat, eyes closed, letting the forest hum around her. And that's when she felt it.
Someone was watching her.
Her eyes snapped open.
Across the clearing, half-shadowed by tall ferns, stood a boy. His skin was pale, almost moonlit. His hair dark as midnight. And his eyes—his eyes were like burning coals, not with rage, but with something ancient and curious.
He didn't speak right away.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the twist in her stomach.
The boy tilted his head, as if amused by the question. He stepped closer, slow and unthreatening, yet every movement radiated unnatural grace.
"You've felt it, haven't you?" he said softly. "The stirring. The silence before the storm."
Seraphina blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"The blood in you is not sleeping anymore."
Her throat dried. "You know what I am?"
"I know who you are, Seraphina."
She flinched. "How do you—"
"When the red moon bleeds thrice," he said, his voice now a whisper, "your world will burn... or be reborn."
And then, without another word, he stepped backward into the shadows. One blink—and he was gone.
Seraphina stared into the trees long after he disappeared.
Something inside her had shifted.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure if the danger came from outside her...
...or within.
Thank you for reading, Moonbloods! Things are getting deeper, darker, and more dangerous. If you felt seraphina pain and mystery
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