Chapter 5
Elena's POV
As darkness fell, the sunset painted the sky blood red. We returned with our prey. Near the boundary, the air suddenly turned unnaturally cold, and an eerie silence blanketed the forest—all bird calls and insect sounds vanished.
Drake froze, muscles tense. Don't move, he warned, do you smell it? That scent of decay and iron. Vampire.
I carefully sniffed, catching an unnatural odor—like rotting flesh mixed with metal, nauseating. This close to pack territory? They're getting bolder.
We set down our kill and cautiously moved toward the source of the smell. In dense underbrush, we discovered a black-robed figure crouching on the ground, collecting soil samples while drawing something on parchment.
Vampire scout, I exchanged glances with Drake. He nodded slightly—we silently agreed to capture the intruder alive.
We split up, surrounding him from both sides. My paws made no sound on the soft earth as I avoided twigs and fallen leaves that might give me away.
Just as we prepared to attack, the wind shifted. The vampire jerked his head up, blood-red eyes staring directly at me. He hissed, exposing fangs, and lunged at me with astonishing speed.
Left side! Drake's warning flashed in my mind. I instinctively dodged right, the vampire's claws barely grazing my fur.
The battle erupted instantly. The vampire moved with unnatural speed, but we were formidable opponents. I nimbly harassed and distracted him while Drake looked for an opening to strike.
Duck! I signaled. Drake immediately understood, lowering his body as I leapt over his back, directly for the vampire's throat.
Just as victory seemed certain, the vampire pulled out a silver dagger. Shit! Silver was lethal to us!
He feinted toward Drake but suddenly changed direction, stabbing toward my abdomen. DAMN!
In that critical moment, Drake threw himself between us. The dagger plunged deep into his shoulder. I heard the terrible sound of tearing flesh and silver burning skin with a sickening hiss. Drake howled in pain but maintained his grip on the vampire's wrist until the bones audibly snapped.
Seizing the opportunity, I lunged forward, my teeth closing around the vampire's throat. Foul blood filled my mouth, but I held on until he stopped struggling. With a final shriek, the vampire's body rapidly decayed to ash.
Battle over, I immediately turned to Drake. His wound looked terrible, bleeding profusely with unnatural gray edges.
You idiot, I scolded with worry, gently nudging his wound with my nose.
Why did you do that? Take the hit? I examined his injury carefully. Silver wounds heal extremely slowly.
Drake's eyes met mine, weak but resolute. Instinct, not planning. On the battlefield, you protect your comrade, regardless of which pack they're from.
I paused, an unnamed emotion welling up inside me. You're more complex than I imagined, Northerner.
We examined the items the vampire left behind—a map marking possible invasion routes into Silver Moon territory and an empty vial.
What are they looking for? I wondered, confused. It seems specifically related to Silver Moon.
Drake's expression grew serious. We must report this immediately. This isn't random vampire activity—they have a specific purpose.
That night, I woke from a horrific nightmare—surrounded by seas of blood, countless werewolf corpses scattered everywhere. Pack members, warriors, cubs... their blood stained the Silver Moon stone circle red, and I stood at the center, my hands also covered in blood.
"No!" I bolted upright, gasping for air, cold sweat soaking my nightclothes. "Blood... so much blood..."
Drake woke at my disturbance, immediately moving closer. "Just a nightmare," he soothed quietly. "In the North, we believe nightmares sometimes warn of the future, sometimes echo the past."
"That's SO comforting," I struggled to steady my breathing. "So I'm either seeing an upcoming massacre or remembering a past that doesn't exist? Both GREAT options."
Drake chuckled softly. "Or it could just be an ordinary nightmare." He thought for a moment, then began recounting Northern star legends. He described the long winter nights, how wolves used stars to predict seasonal changes, how the aurora was seen as ancestral spirits dancing across the sky.
"You Northerners... have legends for everything?" I gradually calmed, drawn into his stories.
"Legends are our companions through the long winters," Drake pointed out the window. "See that silver star? We call it the 'Prophet's Light,' said to guide lost werewolves home."
As he shared a legend about the "Silver Moon Daughter," I suddenly felt a strange resonance, as if something within me was awakening.
"...Legend says every few generations, a Silver Moon Daughter is born," Drake continued. "She can foresee the future, connect with the past, her power coming from the moon itself..."
Just then, my fingers began emitting a faint silver glow, as if responding to his story. The soft light was especially bright in the darkness.
"What... is this...?" I stared at my hand in shock.
Drake froze too. "Silver light... just as the legend describes... has this happened before?"
I shook my head in confusion. "Never... what does it mean?"
"I'm not sure," Drake said cautiously. "But in the North, this is considered a blessing, not a curse. Silver light represents power, but also responsibility."
The glow gradually faded, but that strange warm sensation remained in my fingertips. I looked up at Drake, finding his expression had turned serious.
"I need to know more," I whispered. "And I know who to ask."
At dawn, I went alone to the Silver Moon shaman's tent. My grandmother Talia was one of the pack's oldest shamans, her almost white eyes symbolizing deep connection to the spirit realm. The tent was filled with swirling smoke, heavy with herbs and burning incense.
"I knew you would come, child," Talia spoke before I even pushed aside the tent flap, her unfocused eyes seemingly seeing everything. "The silver light has finally manifested."
I approached her, asking directly. "You knew about this? Why did you never tell me?"
Grandmother's aged hand stroked a pile of bone divination pieces. "There are records of ancient magic awakening in Silver Moon females occasionally, but the elders have tried to suppress it for generations. This power frightens them because it cannot be controlled... cannot be exploited."
"My mother... did she have this ability too?" The question had lingered in my mind. My memories of my mother were fuzzy; she died when I was very young.
"Your mother had many secrets," Talia said mysteriously. "But she took them to her grave." She paused, her voice carrying a warning, "Be careful, Elena. Don't display this ability in public. The Silver Moon pack's way of handling 'special' individuals... isn't always merciful."
Her warning made my heart sink.