Tears distorted my eyesight as I came to see the forbidden truth: treachery was the birth of our lineage, the same power I now had. The traitor—whose name vanished with time—had started a cycle of sacrifice demanding that each generation pay a cost. Every instant of my existence had been melded by that weight of heritage, which I could feel in my bones.
I turned over the scrolls for what seemed like hours, attempting to fit the bits of our buried history together. Reading more helped me to grasp the tremendous cost of the power we carried. Promising invincibility, rule over our foes, and a legacy of glory, the traitor had But he had cursed the Crescent Bloodline with a ravenous need for sacrifice in exchange. Every Alpha who had ever carried the Crescent Mark had been forced to make a difficult decision—sacrifice someone they loved or lose themselves to the darkness trying to swallow their own very soul.
