The red moon rose like an omen, casting a crimson glow over the forest. Leaves crackled under the tension in the air, and every creature raised its gaze toward that bloodstained star. In the darkness, eyes gleamed wild, led by their most primal instincts.
The scent of blood thickened in the air, metallic and heavy. Screams and roars pierced the silence. Amid the ruins of the camp, Sanathiel stood tall, body taut like a spring, his golden eyes burning between fury and pain.
"I can't trust you!" the white wolf roared.
Before him, Salomon struggled to stand. Desperation cracked his voice.
"Zaira… she asked me to pull you away from the pack."
Sanathiel froze. That name struck harder than any claw.
"Zaira...?" he whispered, as if his breath carried the weight of all his disappointment.
"She met the witch while she was away. She saw things… things none of us understand. She said that if you lead without mastering your power, the Nevri will be trapped in their beastly forms forever. You'll become the monster they all fear."
Sanathiel closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were ice.
"I don't need your excuses. If Zaira thinks I'm unworthy... then she's no longer part of my life."
He turned on his heels and walked away, each step leaving invisible cracks in the ground—and in his soul. Salomon remained behind, consumed by guilt and helplessness.
Miles away, Ibrahim met with Falco in a hidden clearing. The hunter leader listened intently.
"Zaira is isolated from Sanathiel. Salomon hesitates. Everything is in place, Lord Falco," Ibrahim said with a venomous smile.
"Perfect," Falco murmured. "Break their bond. If you separate her from the pack, it will all fall apart. Do this… and everything you want will be yours."
Ibrahim bowed respectfully, though his thoughts churned like a storm. This wasn't just a mission—it was his chance to rise, to carve out his place among the powerful.
The next morning, Ibrahim found Daesa in the supply shack. With his usual insolence, he approached with a mocking smile.
"Up early, aren't we, dear Daesa?" he whispered slyly.
She crossed her arms.
"What do you want, Ibrahim?"
He held up a letter. Daesa raised an eyebrow. Then, in one swift movement, he grabbed her by the waist, drawing close enough for his words to slide in like an icy whisper.
"Don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me. Although," he paused, pulling a paper from the inside pocket of his coat, "this isn't meant for you."
Ibrahim waved the letter before her eyes with a malicious grin.
"Just a letter… written by Zaira. For her dear Sanathiel."
Daesa's expression immediately darkened. She extended her hand, voice cold but firm.
"Give it to me, Ibrahim. It's dangerous in your hands."
He stared at her with mockery and challenge, holding the letter like a trophy.
"Of course—but on one condition." He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Deliver a message for me: Sanathiel will never be free."
The silence that followed was unbearable. Finally, Ibrahim tossed the letter into her hands with a dismissive flick.
"Or give it to your beloved wolf. That works too, doesn't it?" he added, before walking off, his boots echoing in the empty shack.
Daesa stood frozen, clutching the letter, her heart pounding with fury and fear. The mention of Sanathiel and Zaira's involvement had burned into her mind. And though she loathed Ibrahim's arrogance, she knew his words were not a game.
She stared at the letter again, her pulse racing. What am I doing here? she thought, as the weight of the choices before her pressed down.
That night, the red moon loomed higher. Its eerie glow bathed the forest, while the sounds of battle filled the air. The Nevri fought to resist Falco's assault. In the heart of the chaos, Sanathiel, now in his beast form, raged between despair and fury.
From the shadows, Ibrahim watched coldly. His eyes tracked Zaira, who rushed into the fray, confronting the hunters head-on.
"Stop!" she shouted, voice trembling with both courage and desperation. "You don't understand what you're doing!"
Falco, bow drawn, glared at her in disbelief and fury.
"You'd betray your kind for these beasts?" he roared. "You'd rather save them than us?"
Zaira didn't waver, standing tall before his threat.
"They're not beasts. They're our last hope. If we keep fighting like this, nothing will remain—for any of us."
The hunters faltered. Some lowered their bows. But Falco, brimming with resentment, refused to yield. He raised his bow once more.
"Fire!" he ordered.
On instinct, Zaira stepped in front of the Nevri, arms spread wide in a protective gesture.
"If you fire, you'll have to kill me first!" she shouted.
A suffocating silence followed. Some hunters hesitated, but Falco's bow remained steady. His cold gaze met Zaira's.
"This isn't over," he muttered with venom.
He signaled the retreat, but not without a final warning:
"We'll meet again, Zaira. And then, there'll be no salvation for you or your precious Nevri."
As the hunters withdrew, Zaira helped Salomon up. His body was battered, his breathing heavy.
"Are you alright?" she asked softly, concern filling her voice.
He nodded, locking eyes with her.
"Thank you, Zaira. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
She offered a tired, but serene smile.
"You don't have to. Just promise me we'll find a way to stop this war."
He nodded solemnly.
But peace didn't last. A sound in the shadows drew their attention. Zaira turned, heart pounding.
"Sanathiel is still out there!" she gasped and ran into the forest.
"Zaira, wait!" Salomon called, but couldn't stop her.
She ran without hesitation, pushing through the thick trees until she reached the heart of the chaos. Sanathiel roared in the darkness, battling multiple hunters.
A deadly arrow flew toward his heart. Without thinking, Zaira shot one of her own, deflecting it at the last second.
"Sanathiel, you're not alone…" she thought.
But in a moment of distraction, another arrow—wrapped in glowing runes—cut through the air.
Sanathiel swatted aside the enemies like flies, still not fully transformed, when she lunged, pushing him out of harm's way.
"WHUMP"
The impact was brutal. Zaira fell like a flower torn by the wind. Blood soaked the earth beneath her.
Birds scattered. Sanathiel turned, golden eyes wide in horror as she collapsed.
Everything shattered.
"Zaira, no!" he roared, knocking aside everything in his path. "NO!"
He dropped to his knees, uncaring of the bloodied earth. Cradling her with trembling hands, her blood still spilling, she lifted her gaze weakly. Her face pale—but peaceful.
She whispered:
"Be… happy."
And closed her eyes.
He howled.
The beast took over.
Hunters ran. But they didn't escape.
Sanathiel rose, Zaira's body in his arms. His white fur, now crimson-stained. Tears streamed down his face. His grief became ruin.
White Wolf.
The hunters trembled at the monstrous figure before them. He tore through them with wrath no man could match.
With blood-drenched claws, he picked up Zaira's lifeless body. His fur fell off like ash, leaving crimson trails on the grass.
He stared at her face, his broken expression reflected in hers. His sorrow did not fade—it devoured him.
From the shadows, Ibrahim stepped forward. The red moonlight etched his silhouette sharply. His cold, piercing eyes locked on Sanathiel.
"How touching…"
Sanathiel growled low. But before he could act, a trap was triggered. A glowing rune fired into the earth, summoning chains inscribed with ancient magic. They lashed around his limbs, binding him.
"Ibrahim!" he roared, thrashing as the glowing symbols drained his strength.
Unbothered, Ibrahim stepped closer, smiling as he stared at Sanathiel's anguish.
"She was never yours. Not really." He placed a hand gently on Zaira's forehead. "Her sacrifice won't be in vain."
With swift hands, he wrapped her body in a dark shroud. The runes pulsed, forcing Sanathiel to kneel.
I'll tear you apart…
Just then, Noah appeared. Calm, deliberate. He seized Sanathiel by the hair, expression unreadable. His golden eyes were steady as he whispered:
"Sleep deeply."
The chains dissolved as he placed both palms over the wolf's head, murmuring:
"Venire ventus venire, sinere solu sentire relaxari, venire nunc nunc venire, venire venire venire."
Sanathiel succumbed to slumber.
Noah's cold serenity contrasted the storm still roaring inside the beast.
"The future is no longer yours to shape, wolf," Ibrahim whispered, backing into the shadows.
"SHUT UP!" Noah's voice thundered, shaking the forest.
Ibrahim turned on his heel, letting each bootstep echo as a reminder of his control. A triumphant smile lingered as he glanced back.
"You'll all be part of this game."
He vanished, taking with him Zaira's body—and the last fragile thread of hope the Nevri had.
The forest swallowed him whole. Noah remained still, gaze locked on the horizon, as if every shadow whispered an uncertain future.
Sanathiel, drained by spell and sorrow, collapsed.
Unconscious.
Surrounded by blood, the echo of chains still glowing on his skin...
The forest fell silent.
There was no peace.
Only the calm before the storm.
Because this wasn't the end.
It was only the beginning.