Chapter 1 — Whispers of the Crescent Moon

Eliza Blackthorne

The crescent moon hung low, its faint silver light casting the clearing in a soft, ethereal glow. Shadows played tricks on the edges of Blackmoor Clearing, where towering pines loomed like silent sentinels. Eliza Blackthorne stood at the border between the forest and the sacred space, her amber eyes scanning the activity before her. The moonlight caught her gaze, a luminous reflection that seemed to mirror her inner turmoil. Her dark braid swayed gently in the cool breeze, but her hands were still, clenched tightly around the strap of her leather gauntlet.

The pack moved with purpose, their every motion steeped in the weight of tradition. Elders knelt near the ancient stone altar at the center of the clearing, their gnarled fingers tracing the runes engraved into its surface. Faint hums emanated from the symbols, almost imperceptible against the steady cadence of their low chants. Warriors methodically sharpened their weapons under the flicker of torchlight, their grim expressions betraying the unspoken tension of the night. Even the youngest wolves, too young to take part in the ritual, darted among the crowd, their excitement a sharp contrast to Eliza’s unease.

Eliza inhaled deeply, the crisp scent of pine mingling with the faint metallic tang that seemed to hang in the air. Tonight was not the Lunar Choosing itself, but its shadow loomed over every movement, every solemn glance exchanged between the pack members. She tried to steady her breathing, but the weight pressing on her chest refused to lift. The world around her thrummed with life and purpose, yet she felt like an outsider looking in.

Her gaze shifted to Marcus Blackthorne, her father, standing tall by the altar. His silver-streaked hair gleamed under the moonlight, and his broad shoulders exuded authority. He was speaking with the council elders, his voice measured but firm as it carried over the clearing. Even now, he seemed unshakable—a mountain against which the pack leaned for support. Eliza's chest tightened with guilt. He had spent his life molding her to follow in his footsteps, to carry the weight of the pack’s traditions and legacy. She wanted to live up to his expectations, yet the thought of being bound by those same traditions made her feel as though her very skin didn’t fit.

“Lost in thought again?” a soft voice interrupted.

Eliza turned to see Sabine emerging from the shadows, her friend’s petite frame nearly swallowed by the folds of her dark cloak. The faint scent of lavender clung to her, a reminder of her role as the pack’s healer. Sabine’s dark eyes gleamed with quiet understanding as she approached, her steps light on the damp grass.

“Not lost, just... wandering,” Eliza replied, forcing a faint smile.

Sabine cocked her head, a teasing glint in her eye. “Wandering far enough to leave Blackmoor altogether?” she asked, her tone light, though the edge of seriousness beneath it made Eliza’s stomach twist.

Eliza glanced around the clearing to ensure no one could overhear them. “If it were that simple...” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

“It’s not wrong to feel trapped, Eliza,” Sabine said, her voice softening. “And it’s not wrong to want more.”

Eliza looked down, her fingers twitching against the strap of her gauntlet. “But it is wrong to act on it. If I stray, I betray my father, the pack... everything I’ve been raised to protect. My position isn’t just mine—it belongs to them.”

Sabine stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Duty is a heavy chain, but you don’t have to wear it alone. And chains can break, Eliza.”

Eliza’s lips tightened into a thin line, her gaze drifting back to the clearing. “Kind words, Sabine, but they don’t change what’s coming.”

Sabine reached out, squeezing Eliza’s arm gently before stepping back. “You’ll find your way. The moon doesn’t stay in one phase forever.”

Before Eliza could reply, the deep timbre of her father’s voice cut through the air. “Daughter.”

Eliza straightened instinctively, her pulse quickening as Marcus approached. His presence was like an approaching storm, commanding attention even in the most casual moments. Sabine offered Eliza a brief, reassuring glance before retreating into the shadows.

“Eliza,” Marcus said, stopping a pace away from her. His piercing grey eyes met hers, searching for something she wasn’t sure he would find. “The preparations are nearly complete. The elders are pleased with your diligence.”

“Thank you, Father,” Eliza replied, keeping her tone steady.

Marcus studied her for a moment, his sharp gaze seeming to pierce straight through her. “The Choosing is not just a ritual. It is the foundation of our survival. It is what ensures the strength of this pack and the security of future generations. You understand this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Eliza said, though the word felt heavy on her tongue.

Marcus stepped closer, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. His grip was steady, resolute. “I see your struggle, Eliza, even if you try to hide it. But you must rise above it. As my daughter—as the future of this pack—you cannot falter. The moon does not waver in its course, and neither can you.”

For a moment, the weight of his expectations pressed down on her with crushing force. Her gaze flickered to his hand on her shoulder, then back to his eyes. “I understand, Father. I won’t let you down.”

His expression softened slightly, though the tension in his jaw remained. “I know you won’t,” he said, squeezing her shoulder before stepping back. “The pack needs you, Eliza. And I need you.”

With that, he turned and strode back toward the altar, his movements purposeful and unyielding. Eliza watched him go, her chest tight with a mix of guilt and resentment. She wanted to live up to his faith in her, but the invisible chain tethering her to the pack felt like it was tightening with every passing moment.

Alone again, Eliza allowed herself a moment to breathe. Her sharp eyes roamed the clearing, catching details others might overlook. The way the young wolves whispered excitedly by the treeline, their wide eyes stealing glances at the warriors. The subtle nods exchanged between the warriors, silent affirmations of respect and readiness. The elders, their voices weaving a tapestry of power and unity that seemed to hum beneath the surface of the clearing.

And yet, even in the heart of all this tradition and purpose, Eliza could sense the tension. Cracks ran beneath the surface, faint but undeniable. Sabine’s earlier words echoed in her mind, and she found herself wondering just how deeply that discontent ran.

Her gaze drifted to the forest beyond the clearing. The shadows stretched endlessly, beckoning her with the promise of freedom and the unknown. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to imagine stepping into those shadows, leaving behind the weight of her name and the expectations that came with it. But duty anchored her, an unyielding chain that kept her firmly in place.

A howl pierced the stillness, low and mournful, sending a shiver down her spine. It was a reminder of the world that lay beyond the clearing—wild, dangerous, and filled with threats both seen and unseen. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, a shift in the air that made her skin prickle.

As the moon climbed higher, casting the clearing in a cold, silver light, Eliza clenched her fists. The Lunar Choosing would come soon enough, bringing with it decisions that could shape her future—and the future of the pack—in ways she couldn’t yet fathom.

The whispers of the crescent moon danced through the night, their meaning just out of reach. But one thing was clear: change was coming, whether she was ready for it or not.