Chapter 2 - The Lament of the Last Luna

The forest slowly awoke, enveloped in a silvery mist that seemed to dance with the moonlight still present in the sky. Each tree held the scars of time, twisted trunks that whispered ancient stories, and the air carried the damp scent of earth, leaves, and moss. There, hidden from the human world, lived the shifters — a condemned pack, marked by centuries of loss, pain, and solitude.

They were not ordinary wolves. Their human forms intertwined with the beast that inhabited their bodies, and each transformation brought with it the memory of an ancestral tragedy. Nearly three hundred years ago, during the war with humans, all the women in the pack had been killed. No child had been born since.

They were five remaining families: the Kents, the Whites, the Rhodes, the Lamarts, and the St. Johns. The absence of women had left deep scars — physical, emotional, and spiritual.

The silence of the forest was broken only by the precise steps of Mason Kent. With his father’s recent death, he had taken the beta position, alongside the leader, Hendrick. The weight of responsibility had made him more severe, embittered by the mourning of his wife, Savannah. He carried her memory like a shadow that would never leave him, shaping his leadership with discipline and rigidity.

“Mason,” Matt Rhode called, breaking the silence, “do you think the Moon Goddess still hears us?”

Mason stopped, his dark eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.

“She hears us whenever our hearts don’t give up. But we need more than prayers; we need a sign.” He let the weight of his words hang in the air, and the younger ones felt the tension.

Yohan, beside his brother, took a deep breath. He had grown up never having known a woman. His childhood had been surrounded only by men who taught him to hunt, to run, and to survive, but never the feminine warmth their mothers and aunts could have offered. Each training session, each mission, reminded him that he didn’t know half of the world that had been stolen from them.

The pack gathered in the central clearing, as they did every full moon night. Hendrick St. John, solitary, watched the members with tired but firm eyes. He had no children; his wife Gillian had died before she could leave descendants. The grief and responsibility for the clan had transformed his presence into silent authority, and even the youngest felt the weight of his solitude.

“We need to maintain order,” Hendrick said, his grave voice resonating among the trees. “Every action of ours now defines whether there will be a future for our people.”

Taylor White tilted his head, looking at Hendrick with a mix of respect and doubt.

“What if there is no future?” he whispered. “What if we are already condemned?”

Tyler White stepped forward, his fists clenched.

“Then we will fight to our last breath. I will not accept that our lineage fades away without a fight.”

The words echoed, and for a moment, the collective sadness gave way to willpower. Each member of the pack felt the weight of the past, but also the need to continue, not to let pain be the last record of their existence.

Mason carried with him the memory of his deceased wife. Grief had made him an introspective and severe man, but his wisdom was necessary to guide the younger ones. He murmured a prayer to the Moon Goddess, his fingers intertwined, his eyes closed, and Yohan realized how much his brother carried on his shoulders.

“May the Moon Goddess not abandon us,” Uriel said, in a hoarse voice. “May she guide us before our blood is lost forever.”

Mason nodded, understanding the weight of the words. The pack not only lived hidden out of fear of humans; they lived in constant alert, for every wrong step could mean the end of an entire lineage. For decades, they had watched from afar, staying out of sight, surviving with nighttime hunts and discreet signals, but never losing hope for a miracle.

It was then that Yohan, who had been silent until that moment, felt something different. A shiver ran down his spine, and he knelt on the grass, as if the wind were carrying a melody only he could hear. He closed his eyes and listened. A feminine voice, delicate and firm at the same time, traveled through the forest. Each note seemed to touch not only his ears, but every fiber of his being. Her scent mixed with the mist—sweet, fragrant, impossibly alive.

Mason noticed his brother’s trembling.

“Yohan?” he called, approaching.

“I...” Yohan took a deep breath, his voice trembling, “I heard... She’s singing. She’s here, among the trees...”

Hendrick approached, crossing his arms. The silence of the forest amplified the tension. Even the Whites and Kallias Lamart’s sons felt the shiver run down their spines. No one dared to doubt what Yohan was saying; everyone knew the premonitory dreams that occasionally visited members of the pack.

“It’s real, then,” Hendrick said, his voice low but firm, “a sign from the Moon Goddess.”

Mason frowned, remembering the bitterness he had carried since Savannah’s death.

“If she really exists,” he said, his teeth clenched, “it means the survival of our people depends on this woman.” Tyler White exchanged a look with his brother, Nick and Taylor, and nodded.

“We need to find her. Before it’s too late.”

The prayers intensified, and Uriel placed a hand on his son Matt’s shoulder in a silent gesture of courage. The entire pack closed their eyes and murmured in unison, calling for the protection of the Moon Goddess, asking for strength, for destiny, for a chance to see their lineage’s blood continue.

Yohan felt the woman’s presence even stronger in his heart. Every fiber of his soul recognized something he had never known: the female life, the promise of descendants, the redemption for his people. The voice was like a light in the darkness, a reminder that despite the pain, there was still hope.

“Mason...” he whispered, determination growing within him, “she is our chance. She is... everything.” Mason looked at his brother, his eyes hardened by experience, but now sparkling with the glimmer of hope that had long been hidden under his bitterness.

“Then we will depart,” he said, his voice firm. “We will find her. Before it’s too late.” The wind danced among the trees, carrying the sound of lament and prayer, mixing the pain of the past with the hope of the future. The moon, high in the sky, seemed to shine only on Yohan, Mason, and the others, a silent witness to a miracle about to come true.

And as the forest awoke, with all senses alert, the clan’s destiny remained suspended in the air: the last woman, the last chance of a nearly extinct lineage, was still singing somewhere distant, and her call would be heard by those who were destined to find her.