The forest held its breath the night the blood moon returned.
Crimson light poured across the ancient trees, casting shadows that moved like ghosts. Somewhere deep within, where no wolf dared tread and the air trembled with silence, a child was born. No pack claimed her, no midwife marked the hour, only the wind bore witness, howling low and mournful through the trees.
And on the child's back... etched in soft, glowing skin... was a moon-shaped mark, lined with runes older than any pack scroll.
The Moon Oracle had chosen again.
A thousand years had passed since the last Tethered One walked this realm. A soul cursed and blessed with two mates. One destined to bring peace to the werewolf clans. The other, bloodshed and ruin. But the prophecy was cruel... never clear, the Oracle never revealed which was which.
Some believed the last Tethered One died by her own hands, unable to choose.
Others whispered she chose wrong.
This time, the child was hidden. Stolen from fate and raised in shadows, no pack records, no scent trails, no past.
Yet prophecies never forget.
And on the eve of the next blood moon, with pack tensions rising and rogue wolves clawing at the borders, the mark will glow again. The Tethered One will return... unaware of her power, of the danger, or of the two fated mates waiting on opposite ends of a war.
One will fall.
One will reign.
And the world will bleed if she chooses wrong.