Prologue
The Rise of the White Wolf
The night was restless. The wind carried whispers through the towering trees, rustling the leaves as if the forest itself feared what was coming. Deep within the sacred mountain, an ancient voice stirred—a prophecy long forgotten by many but never truly gone.
The Oracle stood before the sacred flames, her silver eyes clouded as visions of the future unraveled before her. Shadows stretched across the land, twisting and writhing, a darkness older than time itself. And at the center of it all—a wolf as white as snow, its piercing eyes glowing like twin moons.
She inhaled sharply as another figure emerged from the vision—a creature born of death, its presence thick with malice. A king of demons, clawing his way back into the world of the living, drawn by the rise of the white wolf. War, bloodshed, and ruin followed in his wake.
The fire crackled, and the vision shifted. A heartbeat—two, in perfect rhythm. A man and a woman, bound by destiny, their souls intertwined. A force strong enough to stand against the darkness… if they did not break first.
The Oracle’s voice trembled as she spoke the words fate had carved into the bones of time itself:
"From chains and suffering, the forsaken shall rise. A wolf born of sorrow, a queen unclaimed. Darkness stirs, clawing for its throne, but only two hearts entwined can stop the storm. Betrayal lurks, temptation strikes, and fate shall test its chosen before the end. Will they stand, or will the world burn?"
The flames roared, and the vision shattered. Silence fell once more, but the weight of the prophecy remained.
The time of the white wolf had come.
