The first sign came in the sky.
Three days after the interrogation, the moon turned crimson.
Not gradually—but all at once.
One moment, it glowed in its usual silver brilliance. The next, it bled.
The Blood Moon had returned.
And with it, the prophecy stirred.
Selene stood atop the Moon Keep's northern wall, her gaze fixed on the red orb that now loomed above the realm like an omen. Around her, warriors lit fire pits. Spellcasters carved protective runes into stone. The entire Keep bristled with tension.
Jace appeared beside her. "It's early."
Selene nodded, her voice calm but distant. "The signs said two weeks. We barely had three days."
"Vellis's words?"
"They weren't just warnings. They were countdowns."
Jace clenched his jaw. "Then we prepare faster."
She didn't answer right away. Her hand instinctively touched the hilt of Moonfire.
"I can feel something," she said at last. "A pull. Like the moon itself is… calling me. But it's not silver. It's red."
Jace's brow furrowed. "You think it's magic?"
"No," Selene whispered. "I think it's memory."
That night, Selene descended alone into the Moon Tree's sacred chamber—deep below the Keep.
It was a place of spirit and silence.
The roots of the ancient tree curled like serpents through the stone, pulsing with dim lunar energy. A silver pool sat at the heart of the room, still as glass. It was said the High Lunas of old used the water to receive visions from the Moon Goddess herself.
Selene knelt beside it.
She didn't chant. Didn't pray.
She simply waited.
And the moon answered.
Her reflection shimmered, then rippled.
The water turned red.
Suddenly, she was no longer in the temple.
She stood in a memory—though not her own.
Stone towers crumbled around her, howls of war echoing through the air. Moonlight flickered behind thick clouds of ash. At the center of the chaos stood a woman—tall, cloaked in starlight, her face shrouded in silver veil.
But her eyes...
Selene gasped.
They were her eyes.
The woman raised her hands, summoning a wave of silvery fire that incinerated dozens of void-beasts in a single breath.
Then a voice echoed—ancient, feminine, and heart-wrenchingly powerful.
"One shall rise of broken line,
to finish what the pure could not.
Chosen not by blood,
but by fire and fang."
Selene fell to her knees.
The vision faded.
She was back in the chamber, breath ragged, hands trembling.
The prophecy wasn't about purity.
It was about choice.
Back in the Keep's war room, Kael studied a series of ancient scrolls with Saria and Elira.
"We've misinterpreted the prophecy for centuries," he muttered, his finger tracing a line of moon script. "Everyone believed the Chosen must come from unbroken bloodline. But this—this verse refers to a fractured moon. A legacy that defies the old laws."
Saria nodded. "And that's Selene."
"She was never meant to rule by inheritance," Elira said softly. "She was meant to forge a new order."
Selene entered the chamber, still pale from the vision.
They turned to her at once.
"You saw it," Kael said.
She nodded. "The Moon Goddess. Or an echo of her. I saw what they tried to erase."
Jace stepped in behind her. "Then we know what's coming?"
Selene's voice hardened. "The cult will strike under the Blood Moon. Their true goal isn't conquest—it's rebirth. They plan to use the relics, the corrupted essence, and the Blood Moon's power to summon a new Vessel."
Elira's eyes widened. "Not Damien."
"No," Selene whispered. "Someone stronger. Someone with royal blood."
Saria's face turned to stone. "They'll try to use you."
Selene didn't deny it.
"I am their key—and their greatest threat."
Later, in her chamber, Selene removed her armor and stood before the mirror.
Red moonlight streamed through the window, painting her reflection in eerie hues.
For the first time, she saw it clearly.
The duality.
The blood of wolves and gods. The weight of two worlds.
"I didn't choose this," she said to her reflection. "But I'll carry it anyway."
A knock.
Jace stepped in, eyes soft.
"You okay?"
"No," she admitted. "But I'm ready."
He crossed the room and gently touched her face.
"You are more than a prophecy," he said. "You are the future."
Selene leaned into his touch for a moment. Then straightened.
"Tomorrow, we ride to the Verdant Temple. We end this where it began."
"And if they try to use the prophecy against you?"
Her eyes flared with silver light.
"Then I'll rewrite it with their ashes."
Outside, the Blood Moon continued to rise.
And somewhere deep in the forest, far from the Queen's gaze, a circle of cloaked figures chanted before a crimson fire.
At the center stood a child—barely fourteen, trembling.
"Royal blood," one whispered.
"Moon-born," said another.
They raised the vial of corrupted essence—Damien's remnants.
And the ritual began.