Elena was running through moonlight.
Her bare feet skimmed the forest floor, the trees towering like cathedral pillars around her. Above, the moon blazed red—not silver—and its light painted everything in shades of blood and shadow. Her lungs burned, but she couldn't stop. Something—*someone*—was calling her forward.
Then the trees parted.
A clearing. A stone altar.
And a woman standing in the center, draped in midnight-blue robes that shimmered with stardust. Her silver hair floated in a wind that didn't blow. Her skin glowed with the light of the moon itself, and her eyes—stars. Endless, burning stars.
"Elena," the woman said, her voice layered with echoes that weren't entirely human. "Moonborn. Witchblood. You come at last."
Elena stumbled to a halt. "Who are you?" she asked, breathless. "What is this place?"
The woman stepped forward. "This is memory. This is prophecy. This is warning."
As she raised her hands, the moon behind her split in two. A perfect circle cleaved by a jagged crack. On one side, a silver wolf. On the other, a burning crown.
"You stand between what was and what must come," the Moon Goddess said. "You are not the first to bear the Queen's fire—but you may be the last to wield it."
"I didn't ask for this," Elena whispered. "I don't even understand it."
"You will."
The trees around them began to burn. Wolves howled in pain, their shadows stretching long and unnatural. A throne crumbled into dust at the center of a ruined court.
"Tonight, the judgment of wolves begins," the Goddess said. "But their eyes are clouded by fear and pride. You must show them what even a Queen once forgot—mercy is not weakness, and power is not control."
She turned, her robes fluttering like smoke. "You must survive, Elena Carter. The future depends on it."
Elena reached out, desperate. "Please—don't go. I don't know what I'm doing—"
But the Moon Goddess was already fading.
A whisper, carried on starlight:
**"Trust him. But not too blindly. Even kings can fall to shadow."**
The vision shattered.
---
Elena bolted upright, gasping. Her sheets were soaked with sweat, her hair plastered to her neck. The pendant burned hot against her skin. She yanked it off, cradling it in her hands.
Still glowing.
Still pulsing.
A knock at the door. Sharp. Measured.
"Elena," came Sera's voice. "The court summons you. Now."
Her throat went dry. "I'm coming."
She dressed quickly, fingers trembling as she tied the rough wool belt around her waist. The vision clung to her like smoke. She could still hear the fire, the wolves, the stars speaking in riddles.
As she stepped into the hall, Sera regarded her with a strange mix of tension and... sympathy?
"Did you sleep?" the Beta asked gruffly.
Elena hesitated. "Not really."
Sera nodded once. "Good. Then you'll be ready for what comes."
They walked through winding stone corridors, lit only by the flickering light of iron sconces. Elena could feel the castle watching her, whispering old things through the cold stone. Her power hummed beneath her skin.
The doors to the Great Hall loomed ahead. Inside, voices argued—low, angry, sharp.
When they opened, the Lycan court stood waiting.
Lucien was already at the front. His expression darkened the moment he saw her. Not in anger—but in pain. In protectiveness. In fear of what this day might take from them both.
Elena straightened her shoulders.
She was afraid. But not alone.
The Moon had spoken.