Chapter One: The Day the Moon Turned Red
They called it a blessing—the Crimson Moon. A rare celestial event that only happened once every hundred years, said to strengthen bonds between fated mates and bless unions with the Moon Goddess's touch. The elders spoke of it with awe, passing down its legend like sacred teachings. Ceremonies were planned decades ahead, with couples destined to wed beneath its red glow, hoping for divine favor. To be chosen on such a night was considered the highest honor, a symbol of love so powerful it could change destinies. It was a gift that rewrote bloodlines and created legends.
But the night Raymond died, the Crimson Moon didn't bring blessings. It brought death. It didn't strengthen our bond—it destroyed it. And its light, far from sacred, felt like a warning, a message painted across the sky.
The ceremonial hall was thick with the smell of incense, the smoke of sage and myrrh swirling around dark columns like ghostly fingers. It burned my throat and stung my eyes, mixing with the low hum of ancient chants. Flames flickered in golden chandeliers overhead, casting warped shadows across the floor. Shadows that seemed to move on their own, stretching and crawling as though alive.
A thousand wolves had gathered under Luna Amara's command. Alphas in silk and silver, Betas in their house colors, mystics wrapped in velvet and jewels—each bearing their territory's mark and the weight of their heritage. From the farthest corners of the Crescent Territories, they had come, drawn by the Crimson Moon's allure and the promise of a divine union. All had come to witness history.
My hands trembled as I clutched the ceremonial bouquet—lunar roses, goldenvine, and moonwort. Each flower had been blessed under the eclipse's light, their petals faintly pulsing with soft magic. But even with enchantment, they seemed to wither in my grip, curling inward as if they too sensed something was wrong.
I should've felt honored—proud even. I was about to be bound to my fated mate in a sacred ritual, in front of the Goddess herself. My heart should've soared. But instead, it stuttered in my chest, trapped by an emotion I couldn't place.
And then—he collapsed.
Raymond. My mate. My love. The Luna's only son.
One moment, he was standing beside me, proud and strong, his hand brushing mine as the priestess recited the vow rites. His golden eyes were locked on mine with such intensity, it took my breath away. I felt his promise in every part of me. And the next moment, his body crumpled to the ground with a hollow thud. The sound of his skull hitting marble echoed through the hall. His limbs jerked once… and then stilled.
"Raymond!" I dropped to my knees, uncaring of the pain as my skin scraped against the cold stone. My fingers reached for him instinctively, cradling his head and brushing curls from his face. "Raymond, no. Please—please, wake up!"
His skin was cold. Too cold. Too fast.
That heartbeat I had memorized, the one I'd fallen asleep to on countless stolen nights—it was gone. There was nothing now, just the awful stillness of a body without life.
"Don't do this." I pressed my hand against his chest, willing it to rise. "Please, don't leave me. Raymond, look at me. Look at me."
But those golden eyes I had loved so fiercely stared blankly at the ceiling.
The music stopped. The chants faltered. The wind outside the stained glass ceased to howl. Silence fell like a heavy shroud over the hall, thick and foreboding.
Then the priestess stepped forward, her voice slicing through the silence like a blade.
"Wolfsbane."
The word struck with the force of a lightning bolt.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The whispers began.
Wolfsbane. The deadliest poison for our kind. How? How had this happened?
"The bouquet," someone hissed. "She held it. She gave it to him."
The priestess turned her cold gaze on me, her eyes like polished stone. "You poisoned him," she said flatly. "The vow-flowers were laced with death."
"No," I whispered, horrified. "No, that's not true!"
But I was still clutching the bouquet. Its fragrance, once sweet and sacred, now stank—sour and rotting. I dropped it instinctively. It landed beside Raymond's still hand.
"I didn't do this," I gasped. "I would never—he was everything to me. I loved him."
But the moment had changed. The crowd, once reverent, now seethed with suspicion.
"Murderer."
"She was never worthy."
"Jealous. Power-hungry."
Their accusations cut deeper than any blade. I shook my head, tears blurring my vision, but it didn't matter. They had already made their judgment.
Then Luna Amara stepped forward. Her silver cloak swept the floor with regal grace, her presence both divine and terrifying. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. Her calm was more chilling than any rage.
"Seize her," she commanded.
Two enforcers moved instantly. Claws extended, they grabbed my arms, their grip bruising as they dragged me upright.
"No! Wait—please!" I thrashed against them, panic rising in my voice. "Someone set me up! You have to check the flowers, test them—please, I didn't do this!"
Amara leaned in, her expression unreadable. "You always played the part well," she said quietly. "So clever. So sweet. I almost believed you loved him."
"I did!" I sobbed. "I did love him. With everything I had!"
Her eyes grew wild. "And now my son is dead."
"Please," I begged again. "You have to believe me—"
But her judgment had already been made.
"You will watch your bloodline die for this," she said. It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
The crowd parted as guards dragged my family forward—my mother, my baby sister, my grandfather. They were crying, begging, confused.
My scream tore from me, raw and desperate. "No! No, don't! Don't hurt them—please, I'll do anything!"
But Amara didn't even look at me. Her eyes were fixed on the blood-colored moon.
And under its light, my family was executed.
Their blood stained the sacred courtyard tiles in cruel red arcs.
I wasn't even allowed to say goodbye.
I was dragged through the carnage, through smoke and ashes, through the silence of a broken future. They threw me out into the edge of the Forbidden Forest like I was nothing. Unworthy of a cell. A traitor marked for exile. They thought the forest would finish me off.
And in truth, a part of me hoped it would.
The forest greeted me like an old god. Its trees ancient and watchful, the wind whispering secrets I couldn't understand. Cold gnawed at my bones. Every breath felt like a knife. I wanted to lie down and let go.
But the forest had other plans.
Silver mist drifted between gnarled roots. The air shimmered—then he appeared.
Not man. Not wolf. Something else.
His form flickered like shadow and starlight. His eyes were galaxies. His voice echoed inside my mind, not my ears.
"You should not be here."
"They left me to die," I said.
"I know."
"I didn't kill him."
"I know."
He handed me a vial of starlight. One drop on my tongue, and pain bloomed like fire—then clarity followed. Awareness. Life.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"A remnant. A whisper the moon forgot."
He handed me a satchel. "This will heal your body. But not your grief."
"What do I do now?"
His gaze darkened. "Find the truth. Unravel the lie. The Crimson Moon demands balance."
And just like that—he vanished into the mist.
But his final words stayed with me.
"This was not fate. It was orchestrated. You were meant to die because someone feared the truth."
That night, the girl I was died beneath the Crimson Moon. The one who believed in love, in destiny, in happily-ever-after.
What rose in her place was something else.
I came to in fragments—aches and cold, breaths like knives, the bitter taste of survival. The forest was quiet, but not in peace. Grief clung to me like wet earth: Raymond was gone.
Opening my eyes, I was met with a sky that seemed too vast, too cruel. Stars blinked through the haze, and the blood-red moon hung low, casting a sickly glow over the woods. It felt cursed—like it watched me, carving this night into my soul.
I turned my face away from it, trying to find peace in the dark, but there was no comfort. Only memories. Whispers of the past bleeding into the present. Still, I forced myself to sit up, biting back the pain in my limbs. I had survived worse.
The moss beneath me was damp, the chill sinking into my bones, but I barely noticed. My eyes found my satchel nearby, glowing faintly. A heartbeat of light, pulsing in rhythm with something deep inside me. I reached for it, and the warmth that met my skin sent a jolt through my spine.
Inside, nestled among the usual supplies, was a dagger—silver, rune-etched, humming with power. Not a weapon, but a relic. Below it, a blood-red crest lay heavy in my hand, carved with a wolf's head. My breath caught.
This wasn't just a symbol. It was a message.
As I gripped it, the air thickened. The earth pulsed. A whisper stirred the silence: Find the path of the Forgotten.
I stood, the forest watching me with ancient eyes. Something stirred in the shadows. I wasn't alone.
Driven by a force I didn't understand, I walked. The trees closed in, their limbs blocking out the moonlight, until only the satchel's glow lit my way. The forest whispered, guiding me deeper into its heart.
Eventually, the trees parted. I stumbled into a clearing, my breath stolen by what I saw—stone ruins, half-swallowed by moss and time. Crumbling, but proud. And hauntingly familiar.
A den. But not of any pack I knew.
The Forgotten Ones. Wolves exiled from Luna's grace. Their legacy erased, but not lost. I stepped closer, tracing the carved symbols in the stone, my fingertips buzzing with recognition. A growl broke the silence.
It crawled from the shadows—a twisted wolf, grotesque and massive. Its black fur hung in clumps, and its glowing eyes burned with something unnatural. Corruption.
I drew the dagger, its runes pulsing as if sensing the threat. The wolf lunged, and instinct guided my hand. The blade sank into its side, but the beast didn't fall. It twisted, roared, and came again.
I stumbled back, slipping on damp ground, struggling to stay upright. Then—I remembered the crest.
I raised it.
Energy surged through me, wild and radiant. The wolf hesitated, snarling but retreating, its eyes wide with something like fear.
The crest was more than a mark. It was power.
I turned and ran, branches clawing at me, the beast at my heels. I didn't stop until I burst into another clearing, collapsing before a den hidden beneath
…its weight grounding me, its runes thrumming against my skin like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
The corrupted wolf snarled, a sound like rusted metal and shattered bone. Foam lined its maw, and the stink of rot hit me like a slap. This was no ordinary creature—it was cursed, a fragment of the dark magic that had bled into the earth the night Raymond died.
But I didn't back down.
"I'm not afraid of you," I whispered, though my hands trembled around the hilt.
The creature lunged.
I sidestepped, barely. Its claws scraped across my arm, tearing fabric, skin, and leaving behind a burn that sizzled like acid. I cried out, stumbling back, heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
It turned, slower now, circling. Watching. Testing.
I remembered the vial. The one the shadow-being had given me. The starlight still sang faintly through my veins. I didn't know what it had done to me—but I wasn't the same girl who had fallen to her knees beside her dead mate.
I tightened my grip on the dagger.
"Forgive me," I whispered, and this time I wasn't speaking to the wolf.
I moved before it could strike again, slashing low and hard. The dagger met its hide with a flash of silver flame, and the creature shrieked—its voice an echo of agony that rattled the stones.
It staggered, smoking from the wound. I struck again, this time plunging the blade into its chest. The runes flared, and for a breathless moment, time seemed to freeze.
The wolf stared at me with wide, dying eyes. But they weren't monstrous anymore. They were human. Familiar.
Recognition burned through me.
"Ronan," I breathed.
My cousin. Exiled years ago. He'd vanished after refusing the Luna's bond trials, branded a traitor.
The creature shuddered—and then disintegrated into mist and ash.
I fell to my knees, panting, the dagger still glowing faintly in my hand.
A name echoed in my mind: The Forgotten don't die. They become shadows.
Someone had twisted him. Used ancient magic to corrupt the exiled. My blood chilled. This wasn't just murder. It was a purge.
And Raymond…
My heart clenched. What if he'd found something? What if he'd planned to defy them?
What if his death had been the beginning, not the end?
I stood, barely. My legs ached, my arm throbbed, but there was no time to rest. The Crimson Moon had cast its judgment—but the truth hadn't been told.
I would find it.
For Raymond. For Ronan. For my family.
And for the wolves whose stories had been buried in blood and silence.
The path of the Forgotten lay before me. And I would walk it, even if it led me straight into the heart of darkness.
Even if it destroyed me.
Because I was no longer just a bride beneath a cursed moon.
I was vengeance cloaked in moonlight.
And I would burn down the world to reveal the truth.