Chapter 1 The Blood Moon Rises
Chapter 1
The Blood Moon Rises
“Beware the stories every child knows, for those are the easiest stories to change.”— The Teachings of Elder Orin
The wolves of Moon Bane did not howl when the moon turned red.
They fell silent.
King Jork Blair stood upon the highest balcony of War Moon Castle, his golden eyes fixed on the crimson moon hanging above the Blackpine Mountains.
The silence unsettled him more than any battle ever had.
Normally, the kingdom came alive after sunset. Warriors trained in the courtyard below. Merchants closed their shops with cheerful laughter. Children chased one another through the narrow stone streets before their parents called them inside.
Tonight, every door was shut.
Every window was dark.
Even the wind seemed reluctant to move.
Jork rested one hand against the cold stone railing.
“The Blood Moon...”
His wolf stirred uneasily within him.
Something has awakened.
Jork didn’t answer.
He already knew.
As the last pure Lycan King and Alpha of Moon Bane, his instincts had never failed him.
For weeks, strange reports had arrived from the northern villages.
Families disappearing overnight.
Entire farms abandoned without signs of struggle.
No bodies.
No blood.
No scent trail.
It was as if the earth itself had swallowed them.
Behind him, heavy footsteps echoed across the balcony.
“You’ve been standing here for an hour.”
Commander Kane Blackwood leaned casually against a stone pillar, folding his arms.
Unlike Jork, Kane smiled easily. He laughed loudly, fought fiercely, and somehow managed to annoy the king every single day.
“You’ll frighten the servants if you keep glaring at the moon.”
“I am observing.”
“You’ve been observing since sunset.”
Jork finally looked at him.
“You have news.”
Kane’s smile disappeared.
“A patrol returned from Gray Hollow.”
Jork’s expression hardened.
“And?”
“They found the village.”
Relief flickered across Jork’s face.
Then Kane continued.
“It was empty.”
The relief vanished.
“Everyone?”
Kane nodded.
“Forty-three people.”
“Any signs of battle?”
“None.”
“Weapons?”
“Still hanging on the walls.”
“Food?”
“Still warm.”
Jork slowly turned back toward the valley.
The disappearances were getting closer.
Gray Hollow lay less than a day’s ride from Moon Bane Castle.
“There’s something else.”
Kane removed a small cloth bundle from inside his cloak.
When he unfolded it, a silver medallion rested in his palm.
Jork frowned.
The symbol engraved upon it was unfamiliar.
A crescent moon split in half.
Above it...
Four black stars.
“Where was this found?”
“Inside the village well.”
Jork reached for the medallion.
The instant his fingers touched it, an icy pulse shot through his hand.
A woman’s voice whispered inside his mind.
“The truth was buried with us...”
Jork jerked his hand away.
The whisper vanished.
Kane noticed immediately.
“What happened?”
Jork stared at the medallion.
“...Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
He had heard a voice.
Clear as day.
He had never believed the old stories claiming certain objects remembered the past.
Now he wasn’t so sure.
Before either man could speak again, the castle bells rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Not an alarm.
A summons.
“The council,” Kane muttered.
Jork nodded.
“Let’s see which disaster they believe this one is.”
The Hall of Kings had stood for nearly six hundred years.
Massive stone pillars lined the chamber.
Portraits of every Blair king watched from the walls. The oldest tapestry in the Great Hall had been repaired so many times that one corner no longer matched the rest. Someone had carefully stitched over a missing figure with silver thread.
At the far end stood the Moon Throne, carved from white granite streaked with silver.
Jork never liked sitting in it.
Tonight was no exception.
As advisors, generals, and village elders filled the chamber, voices rose in anxious whispers.
“They’re witches.”
“It has to be.”
“The Witch Circle has returned.”
“No one has seen witches for generations.”
“That means nothing.”
Jork raised one hand.
Silence fell instantly.
Elder Garron stepped forward.
“My King, the people are afraid.”
“They have reason.”
“We must close the borders.”
General Harlan disagreed immediately.
“If we close the borders, we’ll be leaving our own scouts outside.”
Another elder spoke.
“We should send hunters.”
“A hunting party won’t stop magic.”
The arguments continued.
Jork listened without interruption.
Until an old voice spoke quietly from the back of the room.
“Perhaps you’re asking the wrong question.”
Every head turned.
Elder Orin slowly entered the chamber, leaning upon a weathered walking staff.
Though blind, the old wolf walked confidently through the hall.
Jork stood.
“You rarely attend council.”
“I rarely receive invitations from history.”
Several council members exchanged confused glances.
Orin smiled faintly.
“You ask who is taking your people.”
He turned his clouded eyes toward Jork.
“You should be asking why.”
Silence settled over the chamber.
Jork folded his arms.
“You know something.”
“I know stories.”
“I need facts.”
The elder chuckled.
“Facts are dangerous things, Your Majesty.”
He reached inside his worn cloak.
Everyone tensed.
Instead of a weapon, he removed an old leather-bound book.
The cover was faded with age.
No title remained.
Only a silver moonflower pressed into the leather.
Jork felt his heartbeat quicken.
“What is that?”
“The oldest surviving record of Moon Bane.”
“You’ve never mentioned it.”
“No one ever asked.”
Orin gently opened the fragile pages.
“They say witches cursed the Lycans.”
The council nodded.
“They say Olga Vasco betrayed King Rowan Blair.”
More nods.
“They say the First Blood Moon marked the beginning of the end.”
Orin slowly closed the book.
“They say many things.”
His expression became solemn.
“But history...”
He looked directly at Jork.
“...has been lying to your family for five hundred years.”
The chamber erupted into shocked voices.
Jork remained perfectly still.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Orin replied quietly, “that if you continue believing the stories your ancestors left behind...”
He rested a hand on the ancient journal.
“...you will lose your kingdom exactly as they did.”
Before Jork could question him further, a deafening howl echoed from somewhere beyond the castle walls.
Not the howl of a wolf.
Something older.
Something darker.
Every Lycan in the chamber froze.
Their wolves reacted instantly.
Jork’s heart pounded.
His wolf spoke only two words.
She has come.
Jork frowned.
“Who?”
But the wolf offered no answer.
Only the strange certainty that somewhere beyond the castle gates...
His destiny had just crossed into Moon Bane.
