The years drifted by swiftly, and by the time Zira reached her tenth year, the children of the Blood Moon were entering their first phase of real training.
Each dawn, the air around the warrior grounds rang with growls, the clash of claws, and the thud of paws against earth. The pups sparred under the eyes of their elders, learning to control the strength that pulsed through their veins.
Zira trained harder than most, guided by her father, Alpha Damien. Her strikes were precise, her movements fluid. Though her powers were sealed, there was still a wild pulse beneath her calm — one that made even the oldest warriors pause to watch her.
Among the other trainees was Kael, the son of a royal knight. He was clever and quick, always teasing Zira yet standing beside her in every challenge. The two shared an unspoken bond — friendship born from rivalry, loyalty built from countless hours of training together.
Kael made her laugh, something few could do. He understood her quiet moods, her longing glances at the forest edge, the weight she carried without knowing why.
But outside their laughter and practice, dark whispers still moved through the kingdom. The shadows were growing restless. Someone — or something — was searching for the chosen child.
One evening, while Celeste and Damien were meeting with the council, Zira was in the garden with Hazel, now a bright and curious three-year-old. The moon was full, and Hazel giggled as she chased glowing fireflies through the tall grass.
Then — the wind changed.
It grew cold.
The laughter stopped.
From the darkness beyond the trees, a growl rose — deep and unnatural, nothing like the sound of any wolf Zira had ever heard. The air thickened with the scent of decay.
Zira's instincts roared awake. She scooped Hazel into her arms, heart pounding. But before she could move, a figure stepped out from between the trees — tall, cloaked, eyes burning faint red. A creature of the Shadow Realm.
"The child of the moon…" the voice hissed. "She's here."
Zira froze. Hazel whimpered softly, clutching her sister's tunic.
Something inside Zira snapped. The same invisible force her parents had tried to seal surged like a storm, flooding her veins with light and heat. Her eyes flashed silver for the first time — brighter than the moon above — and the air trembled around her.
The creature lunged.
Zira screamed, not in fear but fury. Power burst from her — pure, raw energy — throwing the shadowed being back into the forest with a roar that shook the ground. Trees cracked, the earth split, and silence fell.
When the light faded, Zira was trembling, clutching Hazel tightly. The garden was scorched, moonlight shimmering over the ground like mist.
Moments later, her parents arrived, horror and awe mixing in their eyes. They had sealed her powers twice… and yet, the seal had cracked again. How could a child her age kill wolves with just a scream. Even the king, one that stood above thousands couldn't do that yet a child barely 10 got rid of them.
"She's getting stronger," Damien whispered, staring at the scorched ground.
"No," Celeste said softly, her gaze falling on Zira, who was soothing her crying sister. "She's awakening."
Damien and Celeste decided it was time to sit Zira down and talk to her about her powers. They explained gently but firmly that she needed to learn control — not because they feared her, but because they feared what might happen to her if she didn't. The thought of accidentally hurting someone or herself terrified Zira, and so she agreed to train, knowing deep down that whatever that shadow was, it had come for her.
By the age of three, when she was just beginning to make sense of the world, her wolf, Nyx, appeared. They had been speaking to each other since then, growing together like two halves of one soul. While most others awakened their wolves at eleven or older, Zira was different — she had been born with hers. Determined to master her gift, she trained twice as hard, sparring under her father's guidance and joining lessons with the other pups, her resolve far stronger than her years.
Though fear often shadowed her every step, Zira remained steadfast in her training. The whispers never stopped — murmurs of who the true Chosen might be. Many believed it had to be a boy; after all, most Alphas throughout history were men. The elders and trainers poured their efforts into the sons of the pack, pushing them to greatness while overlooking the quiet strength of the girls. They seemed to forget one simple truth — the Moon Goddess herself was a woman.
Time moved swiftly, and the children of the Rosewood Kingdom grew — their bodies, spirits, and powers blooming under the watchful eyes of their packs. All except Zira… or so everyone believed.
Her powers did grow, but so did the seal that bound them. Her parents had chosen a seal that strengthened in perfect balance with her abilities: the more her power rose, the tighter the seal became after so much effort and research into the ancient runes. Unless Zira herself willed it open, nothing — and no one — would sense her true strength.
To the outside world, it appeared the opposite.
Trainers murmured that her powers was fading, that her aura grew weaker with every moon. Some believed her birth had been a mistake, others whispered that the warrior pack's firstborn daughter was cursed. As the rumors spread, the trainers gradually stopped pushing her. They focused on the boys with roaring flames of power, not the girl with a quiet, flickering spark.
Only Damien didn't give in to the gossip.
Where others grew indifferent, he pushed harder. When the trainers dismissed her, he doubled her lessons. Under moonlit forests, hidden training grounds, and breath-stealing dawns, Damien carved strength into Zira's bones and fire into her heart.
She grew — unseen, unpraised, unnoticed — but not weak.
While the kingdom called her useless, she became dangerous.
While they pitied her, she sharpened into something powerful.
And while everyone judged the fading aura they could see…
…no one realized the storm gathering beneath the seal they couldn't.
Zira's secret strength continued to grow, pressed down only by the seal that wrapped around her like invisible chains. Most days she didn't feel it…
But some days, it pulsed.
Some days, her power clawed at the edges, begging to be let out.