The dawn broke cold and gray over the northern borderlands, where jagged cliffs met dense pine forests that stretched endlessly into the horizon.
Daemon Blackwood stood at the head of his elite strike team, his gray wolf form towering and fierce beneath the morning mist. Beside him, Jace readied his weapons with precise, silent movements, while Saria murmured a soft chant, weaving protective wards that shimmered faintly around their group.
"Tense," Jace whispered, eyes scanning the trees.
"We're deep in enemy territory," Daemon replied. "No room for mistakes."
The mission was clear: infiltrate Ironclaw sympathizers' camps, sabotage their supply lines, and cripple their ability to support Damien's growing rebellion.
As they moved through the forest, shadows lengthened and whispered threats from the underbrush.
Selene's warning echoed in Daemon's mind: the enemy was ruthless—and desperate.
They reached the first encampment just before dusk.
Smoke curled from makeshift fires, casting flickering light on armed men and women clad in Ironclaw's colors—dark reds and blacks.
Daemon signaled to halt.
Jace unsheathed a dagger, eyes narrowed.
Saria stepped forward, voice low.
"Let me try first," she said.
She began a silent incantation, her hands glowing with pale blue light.
Slowly, the fires dimmed, and the guards' movements slowed, lulled into an unnatural sleep.
The strike team moved swiftly, disabling tents and burning supplies without raising an alarm.
Suddenly, a twig snapped.
A sentry stirred, eyes snapping open.
Jace was there in an instant, silent and deadly.
A swift strike to the throat, and the threat was neutralized.
They pressed deeper into the camp.
In the heart of the encampment, Daemon spotted a rough map pinned to a tree.
Ironclaw's plans.
The northern defenses were thinner than expected.
They had been overconfident.
Daemon smiled grimly.
"This will buy Selene time," he said.
But the victory was short-lived.
A sudden roar echoed from the forest edge.
Figures emerged—twisted, snarling beasts with red eyes and jagged claws.
Abyssborn.
Daemon's wolf form erupted into a fierce growl as the pack attacked.
Steel clashed with otherworldly claws; magic flared as Saria summoned protective shields.
Jace fought with lethal precision, cutting down the shadow creatures as Daemon tore through the vanguard.
But the Abyssborn came in waves, relentless and merciless.
A massive figure lunged at Daemon, claws slashing.
He dodged, retaliating with a brutal bite that sent the creature reeling.
Yet more emerged.
They were outnumbered.
Suddenly, a blinding light burst from the amulet Selene had given Kael, now strapped to Daemon's neck.
The silver crescent glowed fiercely, radiating warmth and power.
The Abyssborn recoiled, their forms flickering as if afraid of the light.
Encouraged, the strike team rallied.
Saria's chants grew louder, weaving a powerful barrier of moonlight.
One by one, the shadow beasts dissolved into mist.
When silence finally returned, the team stood panting but victorious.
Daemon looked at the amulet, eyes filled with renewed hope.
"This is more than a charm," he said. "It's a weapon."
Back at the summit, Selene waited anxiously for their return.
Her heart ached with the weight of command.
Suddenly, a scout burst into the camp, breathless.
"They've returned… but the Abyssborn are on the move."
Selene's wolf growled deep inside.
"The war has begun."
That night, Damien Thorn stood before his own war council.
"Elira," he said, "the northern border will fall soon. Our allies inside Ironclaw are ready."
Elira's smile was cruel. "And Selene's forces will be scattered, vulnerable."
Damien's eyes burned with dark fire.
"But she grows stronger with every passing day. We must strike at her heart."
A shadowy figure stepped forward—a cloaked assassin bearing the mark of the Shadow Fang.
"She's not just fighting packs," the assassin whispered. "She's fighting the shadows within."
Damien nodded.
"Then we end her before the shadows consume us all."
Selene stood beneath the Moon Tree as dawn approached, eyes lifted to the sky.
The battle ahead was uncertain.
But with her allies united and the ancient magic rising again, she was ready.
Her wolf howled to the moon, a cry of defiance and hope.
The Alpha Queen was no longer the rejected Luna.
She was the storm—and nothing would stop her reign.