The full moon hung swollen and crimson over the ancient stone circle, The unusual colour signified gloom and for some an impending doom as it bathed the gathered wolves in blood-red light.
The sound of bones cracking and the drop of men as well as women with their fur manifesting in its full glory as they shifted restlessly, some in wolf form, others standing tall as humans, all members of the united Wolfheart Clan that had guarded these lands since time immemorial.
Alaric Wolfheart, the Grand Alpha, raised his arms toward the moon. The assembled pack fell silent, even the pups stilling at their mothers' sides.
"For generations," Alaric's voice carried across the gathering, "our ancestors have prepared us for this night. The stars align as they did in the time of the First Alpha when the Devourer nearly consumed all magic from our world."
In the front row, two figures stood closer than protocol permitted. Serena, daughter of the clan's eastern faction, her silver-streaked hair gleaming in the moonlight as her eyes shone green. Beside her, Malachai, son of the western faction, whose eyes reflected an unnatural crimson, a colour that stirred fear in the hearts of other wolves because of how unusual it was for a wolf to possess that colour of eyes.
They clasped hands, fingers intertwined, thumbs pressed against matching crescent birthmarks on each other's wrists. Neither noticed the shadow that passed over the face of Darius Wolfheart, Alaric's brother, as he watched them from the edge of the circle.
"Tonight, we complete the Convergence Ritual," Alaric continued. "Our Vessels.." he gestured toward Serena and Malachai, "...will channel the combined power of our bloodlines to strengthen the veil between our world and the Void."
What happened next would later be told differently by each faction.
The eastern wolves would claim Malachai's impure blood had tainted the ritual, driving him to madness and violence. The western wolves would insist Serena betrayed them, using fae enchantments to weaken their warriors. Both stories agreed only on the outcome: blood spilt across the sacred stones, the ritual interrupted, and the pack divided by violence and betrayal.
Only Darius knew the full truth, how he had summoned the first Void Walker through a forbidden ritual, how he had poisoned both factions against each other, how he had orchestrated the slaughter to prevent the Convergence from succeeding. Only he understood what power could be gained by feeding the Devourer rather than banishing it.
As dawn broke over the massacre, Darius stood alone at the centre of the stone circle, a dark crystal pulsing in his palm. Into it, he poured his malice, binding the curse that would split the clan forever.
"Let blood turn against blood," he whispered as the crystal drank in his hatred. "Let Moonwhisper and Ravenclaw rise from the ashes of Wolfheart. Let no Vessel unite what I have severed, lest both bloodlines perish."
The crystal flared, then dimmed, its power seeping into the very soil beneath the stone circle. The curse took root, spreading like poison through the pack's collective soul. By nightfall, former brothers fought as enemies, memories of unity already fading like mist.
Only Serena and Malachai, mortally wounded but clinging to life, remembered the truth. With their last strength, they performed a blood ritual of their own, not the Convergence they had prepared for, but a desperate promise.
"Seven generations," Serena gasped, her blood mingling with Malachai's on the ancient stone.
"Seven generations until the stars align again," he agreed, his hybrid eyes dimming.
"Our blood will remember," she whispered, "when our people have forgotten."
Their bodies were found at dawn, hands still clasped, the strange birthmarks on their wrists merged into a single symbol, a crescent moon embracing a raven's wing.
No one noticed the tiny seedling sprouting between their joined hands, nor the way it drank in their combined blood. No one saw how Darius recoiled when he tried to approach their bodies, as though an invisible barrier protected them even in death.
And no one, for seven generations, would understand the true meaning of the matching birthmarks that would appear, without explanation, on certain children born to both the Moonwhisper and Ravenclaw clans, children whose eyes sometimes reflected starlight in ways no normal wolf's should.