Constantine was a great wolf.
That was the first sentence that met Tyler's eyes as he turned the page. The text was bold, ancient, and wrapped in reverence. He leaned back against the wooden shelf, the dusty light filtering through the high windows casting long beams across the floor. The children's voices in the distance faded as he sank into the world of the book.
According to legend, Constantine was a lone wolf a wanderer without a pack, guided only by justice and instinct. His hair, it was said, was jet black and shimmered like the night sky under a full moon. It was long and flowing, his body carved with muscle and power, his face so strikingly handsome that even those who feared him remembered his beauty.
But Constantine wasn't just brawn and looks. The pages spoke of a wolf with a gentle soul. He was calm and generous, forgiving and compassionate. He didn't kill for pleasure he killed for balance. For peace. He journeyed across vast lands, laying waste to vampire lairs that plagued villages and forests alike. Alone, he struck down powerful bloodsuckers creatures that entire packs had failed to defeat.
His crusade had one goal: to destroy Susun, the youngest and most dangerous of the vampire sons. Constantine believed Susun was the anchor the dark heart from which all other evil grew.
Yet despite his mission, the book emphasized again and again: Everyone who knew him, loved him.
Tyler flipped a few chapters, skipping past lengthy battle accounts. The text felt heavy, formal, old—like the kind of writing meant for scholars. But just as he was about to flip a chapter, a description caught his eye.
Not exactly a description.
"One day, while on a mission to destroy a vampire baron in the Northern Reaches," the text read, "Constantine came upon another pack. They were wolves of many colors and sizes, gathered by fate, not blood."
The chapter described them in vivid detail: an ash gray wolf with wise, weathered eyes; a thick brown wolf built like a boulder; a sleek deep blue wolf whose movements were silent as shadows; an ivory white wolf with gleaming fur; and another white wolf this one different, regal, commanding.
She was their leader. A Luna.
Tyler raised a brow. "A female alpha?"
The Luna had watched Constantine battle alone. Enchanted by his skill, she approached him afterward and offered him a place in their pack. But Constantine declined.
He always declined.
"I work alone," he had told her.
But the pack was persistent. They saw greatness in him, a strength that could lead or inspire. Constantine refused again.
Then came the turning point.
One moonless night, Constantine was ambushed by vampires dozens of them. He fought hard, but even he could not overcome the sheer numbers. Wounded and cornered, he had nothing else to do.
But before the final blow could land, they came.
The same pack.
They tore into the enemy like a force of nature, united in fury and purpose. Together, they decimated the attackers, standing over Constantine's injured body like a wall of fangs and fury.
That day, Constantine realized something: Unity was good, solitude was good, but in some cases we have to choose which was best for a situation, and he knew he couldn't do it alone if he was ever going to lay his hands on Susun.
He joined them.
And together, they became one of the most ferocious, legendary packs to ever exist. Vampire heads rolled at their feet. Covens were burned. Even the druids—those who once birthed the vampire demonic powers race grew fearful. They ceased creating more vampires for the time being.
Only one dared defy the halt.
The youngest son.
Susun.
Susun, the last of the vampire sons, had always been different from his kindred. While the druids had ceased creating new blood-drinkers in fear of the rising wolf packs, Susun's pride refused to bow. His ego was vast untamed, like a storm held back by sheer will.
In his dark chambers, carved deep into the bones of the earth, Susun forged a new legacy. He filled the catacombs with loyal subjects vampires who drank directly from his veins. His blood was no ordinary venom; it was ancient and potent carrying the druids family black magic and sorcery, granting his creations powers no other vampire had ever known. With each sip, they gained speed, strength, heightened senses some could even manipulate shadows or walk without sound.
As his power grew, Susun spread like a plague across vampire territories. He destroyed rival clans, absorbing their domains into his empire. Fear became his banner, and blood his crown.
But even as the vampire menace darkened the world, light bloomed in another corner.
The Luna, leader of the pack, had fallen deeply in love with Constantine, the lone warrior she had once invited into her fold. And to her joy, Constantine loved her in return. Their bond, forged through battle and trust, blossomed into something rare and beautiful.
They were wed under the silver moon, surrounded by their pack. And soon, their love bore fruit a daughter.
The child was said to have the jet-black mane of Constantine and the radiant beauty of her mother. She was laughter and hope wrapped into one small, perfect being.
But fate, cruel and unpredictable, had its own plans.
One fateful afternoon, as the young girl played near a crystal stream with her maid, tragedy struck. A lone vampire—wild and thirsting—attacked. The maid was slain, her blood drained in moments. But the vampire, captivated by the child's purity, offered her a twisted gift: a chance to live forever.
He bit her... and fled.
What followed was a slow, horrific transformation. Constantine and the Luna were shattered paralyzed by the unimaginable truth. Their only daughter was turning into the very thing they had spent their lives destroying.
At first, they hid her. But as the signs became undeniable, the pack found out.
There was disbelief. Then anger. But in time, loyalty triumphed. The pack chose to stand with Constantine and the Luna. They swore to protect the girl, even as she turned.
She lived in shadow indoors by day, venturing out only under the moon. For nineteen years, she never tasted blood. Not once. It was a miracle, the first ever recorded.
But even miracles can break.
One day, during a heated argument between Constantine and the Luna tensions unraveling from years of pressure the girl stepped outside, unaware, into the light.
The sun kissed her skin.
And she did not burn.
Gasps turned to silence. Awe mingled with dread. She had become something new.
A vampire that could walk in daylight.
The pack knew the implications. If they had found out, so would Susun. He would not allow such an anomaly to live.
For months, there was no sign of him.
Then one night, like a whisper from death itself, Susun came.
He moved like a shadow through the forest, slipping past sentries and into their haven. A battle erupted. Constantine, fueled by rage and heartbreak, clashed with him. Steel met fang, fury met darkness. The pack defended bravely, wolves fighting vampires in a storm of blood and fang.
It was the fiercest fight of their time.
Constantine, roaring with pain and love, nearly killed Susun an act no other wolf had ever come close to.
But Susun escaped, his dark powers slipping him away before the final blow could land.
Then came the flood. More vampires. Dozens. Hundreds.
The pack was surrounded. The air stank of death. They fought, but were being torn apart.
Watching from hiding, the girl saw everything. The pain. The blood. The fear in her parents' eyes, and the pack she grew up knowing fighting to death.
She knew what she had to do.
She stepped out from the shadows and gave herself up, with a dagger she struck her heart.
She let go of her life so the pack could live.
Her body fell in the rain, lifeless and still.
Constantine screamed a broken sound that tore through the night like thunder. His wife collapsed beside their daughter's corpse, her cries muffled by the downpour. Around them, the pack stood frozen, soaked in blood and rain.
The war had ended for now.
But at a cost no one believed they would pay.