1 7: Dreams of the Past
Mia stood beneath a bleeding moon, surrounded by a world that shimmered like frost on fire. A woman with silver eyes and dark honey hair stood before her, wearing armor laced with vine sigils and a cloak furred with something that shimmered between wolf and bat. The woman turned, and Mia saw her own face reflected, centuries older and infinitely sadder.
"You've come late," the woman said, her voice rich with power and regret. "But perhaps not too late." Mia tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn't move. The woman, Alira, placed a hand over Mia's heart. "Blood remembers. Even when minds forget. I am Alira, last of the Bloodbound Lunas."
Visions flared, showing packs torn by betrayal, vampire courts razed by shadows, and wolves who turned on their own at the whisper of a name. Alira's eyes filled with tears that did not fall. "The packs feared us. The vampires envied us. So they made monsters to wipe us out—the Silenced Ones, created not born, bred to destroy the in-between."
Mia saw the experiments—wolves hollowed out by dark rituals, fangs stitched into their skin, howling in silence as their souls were severed from their bodies. Alira smiled. "Because you were born to heal what we broke. Not through power, but through choice."
Alira pressed a glowing stone into Mia's palm—a lunar crest split by a fang. "The past is not a weight. It's a map. Use it. Find the other bloodbound. The war hasn't begun yet." Mia woke with a cry, her hand clenched around nothing, but the mark beneath her skin glowed briefly.
Kaian was beside her, eyes wild. "You were convulsing. The sigil on your chest—Mia, it was glowing through your skin." Mia whispered, "I saw her. Alira. Not Irene. Alira Vael'Thar. She wasn't just a Luna. She was the last bloodbound. I'm her descendant."
Kaian blinked. "Then lrene...?" Mia said slowly, "She was Alira's daughter. That makes Halen and I... blood cousins. Same root. Different branch." Kaian sat back. "And if the Silenced Ones were made to wipe your line out..."
Mia stood, fire in her eyes. "I won't run from that. I need to find the rest—if any others survived. Alira said I'm not alone. There may be others with bloodbound power." Kaian nodded. "Then we'll find them." Outside, the Hollow bristled with war-readiness. Mia looked north, her heartbeat syncing with the mark on her hand. She wasn't just remembering history anymore. She was about to rewrite it.
The Hollow, Pre-Dawn
Mia stood at the edge of the training field, watching the wolves drill for war. But her eyes were elsewhere—northward, where the Silenced Ones still waited, unmoving, a silent threat in the trees. Kaian joined her, two cloaked scouts in tow. "They're ready to ride," he said. "You're sure there are others?"
"I don't know how many," Mia replied, tightening her gloves over the sigil that still pulsed faintly beneath. "But Alira didn't just mean blood in the past tense. She said the bloodbound endured." Kaian nodded, grim. "We'll split. You and I head west to the ruins of Sablemere—old Luna territory. The other team goes south."
Mia glanced toward the frozen ridge. "And Halen?" Kaian's expression darkened. "He sent a message. A white raven. He wants a meeting. Alone. At the old Moonwell. Dusk." Mia inhaled slowly. "Then I'll meet him. Alone."
The Moonwell Ruins
The Moonwell had once been a sacred meeting place between wolves and vampires, a grove blessed by both sun and moon. Now it stood broken—trees blackened, water frozen over like glass, ancient runes cracked under time's weight. Mia arrived at dusk. The wind whispered warnings, but the sigil on her palm warmed gently, sensing a familiar presence.
Halen Vael'Thar stepped from the shadows. He looked not like a monster, nor a man. His presence was quiet but immense. "Mia," he said, voice low. "So you bear the Second Fang." "I bear more than that," she replied. "I carry the memory of Alira. Of lrene. And of everything your silence helped bury."
Halen inclined his head. "I didn't come to justify the past. Only to change what comes next." Mia studied him. "You lead the Silenced Ones. You raised them." "I freed them," Halen corrected. "They were weapons—wolves broken by vampire magic, denied voice, denied will. I gave them purpose."
Mia's gaze hardened. "They've already killed dozens. You can't say you've lost control and expect mercy." Halen stepped forward, stopping a pace away. "I don't want mercy," he said. "I want balance. The Third Fang is the key—not to power, but to restoration."
Halen told Mia that the Queen moves in shadow, wanting the fangs to raise the Fourth—a creature not bound by blood or moon. Mia's blood chilled. "She wants to wipe the slate clean," she whispered. Halen nodded. "She already has a name for it—the Fangborn King."
The Edge of Sablemere
Two days later, Mia and Kaian stood at the threshold of the old Luna sanctuary—Sablemere. Inside, they found bones, glyphs, and signs of recent movement. Then—a faint sound. From the shadows, a figure stepped forward. She was younger than Mia expected, pale-haired and violet-eyed, with a sigil glowing faintly on her forearm—the same crest, inverted.
"I thought I was the last," she said. "You're not," Mia replied, heart racing. "What's your name?" The girl looked her in the eye. "Airal. Daughter of the hidden line. And I dreamed of you." Mia stepped forward, breath catching. A voice in her mind—Alira's—whispered, "Two are found. More remain. But the Queen counts faster than you gather. The Fangborn wakes."