The Moonstone Pack was known across the realm for its strength, tradition, and unwavering pride.

But for Kaia Moonstone, it was a gilded cage where her existence was both shameful and invisible.

She was born the illegitimate daughter of Alpha Raymond Moonstone, conceived in an affair with a quiet human woman who died giving birth to her. From her first breath, Kaia wasn’t just unwanted—she was a living humiliation.

The Luna, Viema, despised her. She never raised her voice, never struck Kaia directly. She didn’t need to. Her hatred was cold and calculating, the kind that infected a pack without a single word. It was in the way others refused to meet Kaia’s gaze, the way they’d sigh when she entered a room, or how they looked through her like she wasn’t even there.

Kaia learned early to keep her head down and her mouth shut. She cleaned, served, obeyed.

And hoped.

Because every werewolf awakens their wolf eventually. At sixteen, the change would come—had to come—and with it, power, recognition, maybe even a place in the world.

But her sixteenth birthday came and went in silence.

No surge of heat.

No inner voice.

No transformation.

Nothing.

Her father said nothing. Viema smiled for the first time in years. And Kaia? She was stripped of any rights her blood might’ve once promised.

The pack didn’t call her daughter anymore. They called her the stray, the weakling, the mistake.

But mostly, they called her slave.

---

If there was one person who took joy in her downfall, it was *Fiona* Luna Viema’s daughter and Kaia’s half-sister by blood, but not by heart. She was everything Kaia wasn’t: powerful, beautiful, awakened early, adored.

And vicious.

Fiona and her friends—Sandra, Cherry, and Mila—tormented Kaia with glee masked as tradition.

“We’re trying to help,” Fiona would say sweetly as she flicked Kaia’s bruised cheek with manicured nails. “Sometimes pain unlocks the wolf. Maybe yours is just… too stubborn.”

Then they'd push her into freezing water. Drop hot plates in her hands. Shove pencils through her skin until they broke inside her palm.

Kaia knew the truth. They didn’t care about awakening her wolf. They just liked watching her break.

---

Her “room” was a mildewed basement, cold and sour-smelling, with mold climbing the walls and rust eating away at the pipes. The air was thin. Her mattress was a flattened pile of rags. A shattered mirror hung on a crooked nail, the only thing in the room that still remembered her face.

On the night of her eighteenth birthday, the pack held a celebration—not for her, of course. One of the warriors had reached a new rank. Kaia had served food all day, invisible as ever. Neither Alpha Raymond nor Luna Viema acknowledged her existence. Not even a glance.

She didn’t expect a gift.

Just... maybe a word.

But there was nothing.

Only Fiona, who “accidentally” spilled a goblet of wine down Kaia’s back and laughed like it was a joke too good not to share.

“Don’t forget to scrub the floors before midnight,” she’d said. “Even failures should be useful.”

Now, it was past ten. Kaia dragged herself through the empty halls, every step echoing painfully in her bones. Her arms were covered in small, red burns from the day’s tasks. Her legs trembled from exhaustion.

All she wanted was to sleep.

She reached the basement door and began to descend the stairs, careful not to slip.

But fate had one final cruelty waiting.

Her foot caught.

A rope—thin, nearly invisible in the dark—snagged around her ankle. Before she could scream, her body lurched forward.

She tumbled down the stairs.

The world twisted, her body colliding with wood, then stone. She hit the floor with a sickening *crack*, her skull slamming against concrete.

Pain flashed white, then red, then black.

She lay motionless, blood spreading beneath her head.

---

Laughter floated down the stairs.

“She actually fell for it!” Fiona’s voice rang out.

“She’s such an idiot,” Sandra added. “Didn’t even see the rope.”

“She’s faking it,” Fiona snapped, her voice laced with irritation. “Get up, Kaia. Stop pretending.”

But Kaia didn’t move.

She couldn’t.

Her fingers twitched once. Her body didn’t respond. Her vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges.

Then Cherry’s voice, uncertain for the first time:

“Wait… she’s not moving.”

Fiona hesitated. “What—”

“Is she… dead?” Mila asked, suddenly hushed.

“This’ll cause trouble,” Sandra muttered, far too casually. “But no one actually cares about her. Worst case, we get scolded.”

“Yeah. It’s her fault for being weak,” Cherry said. “We were just playing.”

Kaia’s lips parted, trying to whisper, to scream, to live

But her throat seized.

The last thing she heard—

> “Why isn’t she getting up…?”

> “Did she die?”

Then silence.

Then darkness.

Still. Heavy. Eternal.

Then came the pain.

Kaia gasped as her eyes flew open, the sour scent of blood filling her nose. Her body was sprawled at the base of a stone staircase, her cheek glued to the floor by half-dried blood. Every nerve in her body screamed.

Her fingers twitched.

Her arms trembled as she pushed herself upright. Her breath came in shallow, raspy gulps.

Her skull throbbed. The left side of her head was sticky and warm. Something had cracked—bone, maybe. She couldn’t tell.

Her voice broke out of her, confused and breathless.

“Where… am I?”

Nothing made sense.

This place was a hallway — narrow, damp, and stinking of mold. Pipes ran along the low ceiling, hissing faintly with every drop of condensation. The walls wept with moisture. The air was cold, heavy, hard to breathe.

She coughed once, the taste of copper thick on her tongue.

And then—footsteps.

Fast. Unbothered. Loud boots thundering down the stairs above.

Kaia turned her head just in time to see four girls descend into the hallway, led by one she recognized—but didn’t know how.

Fiona.

Something inside Kaia flinched.

Fiona took one look at her and curled her lip. “Well, look who survived gravity.”

Kaia blinked slowly, her body half-curled against the wall. “I… don’t… understand…”

“You never do,” Sandra muttered behind Fiona. “That’s the problem.”

“You tripped over a rope,” Cherry added, sounding bored. “It wasn’t even that hard to see. Typical.”

Kaia looked at them with blank confusion.

Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “What are you staring at like that?”

Kaia swallowed hard. “Who… are you?”

Mila barked a laugh. “Oh gods, she’s playing amnesia now?”

“She’s faking it,” Sandra said. “Always so dramatic. Just like the time she ‘collapsed’ during training.”

Fiona stepped closer. “You think pretending you don’t know us will get you out of trouble?”

“I—” Kaia’s head pounded. “I don’t even know who I am…”

The silence was instant.

Then came the sneer.

Fiona’s eyes flared with disgust. “Of course. You didn’t get your wolf, so now you’re pretending to be someone else. You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

“I’m not pretending,” Kaia whispered.

Cherry’s voice curled with contempt. “You really forgot you’re the Alpha’s bastard? You forgot you humiliated the pack when you didn’t shift like everyone else? That you’re the only eighteen-year-old in this realm without a wolf?”

“She always was dead weight,” Mila said.

Kaia tried to push herself up, but Fiona’s boot slammed into her chest, knocking her flat.

And then it started.

The beating.

A punch to her face.

A kick to her ribs.

A knee to her back.

Her shoulder cracked against the wall.

Pain exploded in her bones. Her limbs wouldn’t move fast enough. Her vision blurred again—white-hot flashes dancing through her skull.

But even as they hit her, her mind didn’t collapse.

It watched.

Counted. Measured. Memorized.

Flash.

Rain pelting rooftop tiles.

Gunmetal in her hands.

A man’s face in her scope.

Her finger on the trigger.

Then betrayal.

A warning screamed too late.

A shot.

A fall.

Death.

Her eyes snapped open even as Sandra’s knee struck her gut.

She gasped. But still, no cry.

Her body screamed. But her mind was quiet.

Too weak to fight.

But not too weak to learn.

“She’s not even crying,” Mila muttered, wiping blood off her knuckles.

“She’s probably in shock,” Cherry said.

“She doesn’t get to play victim,” Fiona hissed. “She’s nothing. She’s always been nothing. My father should’ve drowned her as a pup.”

Kaia lay still, barely breathing.

“Let her rot,” Fiona spat, turning her back.

The four of them walked away, boots stomping across the wet stone, disappearing back up the stairs with cruel laughter trailing behind them.

Then—silence.

Kaia lay still.

Her blood pooled slowly beneath her.

Her thoughts were a blur of pain, memory, confusion—and something else.

Something deeper.

She didn’t know who she was supposed to be in this body.

But she knew she wasn’t that girl anymore.

Kaia Moonstone was dead.

And whoever she was now—she had already died once before.

It took nearly five minutes for her to crawl forward.

Her legs wouldn’t fully obey her. Her vision pulsed with pain. But she dragged herself through the narrow hallway, passing rusted pipes and damp walls. Each breath burned.

At the end of the hallway was a familiar wooden door.

She didn’t know how she recognized it.

Her fingers shook as she turned the knob.

The room was small, cold, and dark. Mold curled along the corners. A tattered mattress sat on the floor, sagging in the middle. The air felt starved of oxygen.

Kaia collapsed onto the mattress. Her arms gave out. Her head dropped into her blood-crusted hands.

And then, across the room—a cracked mirror.

Hung crooked on the wall.

She hadn’t noticed it before.

She stood, slowly, unsteadily, and approached.

The reflection nearly stole her breath.

The girl staring back looked like a ghost—pale, bruised, eyes dull with shock.

Kaia touched the mirror.

The glass was cold.

“This isn’t my face,” she whispered.

But it was hers now.

She didn’t know why. Or how.

Only that she had been dead. And now… she wasn’t.

Flash.

Steel.

A blade buried in someone’s throat.

A scream.

A mission name: Ghost.

Her name.

Her reputation.

Her end.

Kaia’s eyes snapped open again in the darkness.

She didn’t remember everything.

But she remembered enough.

She was Kaia but wasn't Moonstone anymore.

Ambers. Kaia Ambers.

The silence pressed down on Kaia like the damp air around her, thick and suffocating. The room stank of mold, blood, and something older—like rot buried in the bones of the building. Her fingers twitched against the mattress as her breath came in shallow gasps.

She hadn't moved since the mirror.

Her reflection still haunted her, even with her back to it now. That girl—the bruised face, the split lip, the gold-flecked eyes staring with dazed horror—she wasn't Kaia Moonstone.

And she wasn’t Kaia Ambers either.

Not anymore.

Not entirely.

She didn’t know what she was. Only that something inside her wasn’t quiet.

And now—it was moving.

At first, it was subtle. A chill creeping up her spine. A tremor in her fingertips. A heat in her gut, too warm to be natural.

Then came the pressure.

It built slowly—like a tide rising under her skin, flooding her bones and joints. Her back arched suddenly as pain stabbed through her ribs.

She gasped. “Wh—what…”

The pressure didn’t stop.

It intensified.

Something was clawing its way out.

From the inside.

Her body jerked violently, seizing on the mattress as a scream tore from her throat. Her fingers dug into the floorboards. Her teeth clenched as her jaw locked tight.

Her blood boiled.

Her vision split.

It felt like her soul was being peeled open—every part of her hollowed, then filled with light and pain and power.

Her chest cracked with a sickening snap. Her spine shifted, curling. Her nails ripped into claws. Her scream turned into something more primal, deeper, ancient—

And then everything went white.

When the light faded, the room was no longer small.

It was full.

A massive silver wolf now stood in the center of the basement, its head bowed yet still brushing the low ceiling. Its fur shimmered like moonlight kissed by frost, each strand glowing with an ethereal sheen. Its breath came out in slow, heavy gusts, fogging the mold-stained air.

Its eyes—her eyes—were a sharp, piercing silver, glowing with eerie calm.

The beast didn’t growl. It didn’t howl.

It simply stood, colossal and still, as though it had been sleeping for centuries and had just remembered how to breathe.

Its thick coat brushed both walls, completely filling the space. Its claws, long and glinting faintly white-blue, curled against the concrete floor. Cracks spidered out beneath its weight.

No ordinary wolf could’ve survived this basement.

But this wasn’t an ordinary wolf.

This was something else.

Something divine.

A relic of forgotten bloodlines.

A myth in living flesh.

The Silver Moon God Wolf.

Its silver eyes narrowed—intelligent, ancient, aware.

And just like that—its form flickered, shimmered—

And collapsed inward.

Kaia fell forward onto the floor, gasping.

Her body was back. Human. Fragile. Bare and trembling in the thick air.

Sweat dripped down her back.

Her limbs shook uncontrollably.

She pushed herself up slowly, hands pressing against the cold floor as she tried to catch her breath.

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking. But they were hers.

Except…

No. They weren’t.

“This body…” she whispered, her voice raw and broken. “It isn’t human.”

She staggered to her feet. Blood smeared beneath her.

The room was too quiet.

The mattress behind her had been shoved into the wall. The moldy ceiling tiles were cracked. Her clothes—torn. Her skin burned with fading magic, but her bones held still.

Whatever had just happened… had been real.

And it wasn’t over.

Far away—thousands of kilometers to the north, deep within the frozen mountains of the highlands—the air shifted.

In a grand, dark-stone study high above the snowline, Alpha Seiko Silverclaw sat hunched over a map spread across his desk. Candles flickered against the wooden walls, the room lit in soft gold.

And then, without warning, his hand stopped mid-mark.

His wolf stirred.

Not just stirred—lunged.

Seiko’s breath caught. His golden eyes widened slightly as a sudden, bone-deep pulse crashed through his chest.

It was nothing like a normal wolf link. Not like sensing danger. Not like a rogue crossing into his territory.

It was pure presence.

Vast. Radiant. Otherworldly.

Silver.

His wolf growled in his mind, restless.

She’s here.

He stood abruptly, the old chair crashing back against the wall. His heartbeat matched the pulse—irregular. Drawn. He didn’t question it. He didn’t hesitate.

He simply moved.

Within seconds, he was outside—shirtless, barefoot, letting the cold bite his skin. Snow flurried around him as pack warriors stood aside instinctively, sensing their alpha’s sudden intensity.

They didn’t speak. No one dared.

His gaze turned to the dark forest that surrounded the cliffs of Silverclaw territory.

He stepped forward once—

And shifted.

Bones cracked, reforming. Muscles rippled and grew. In the span of a breath, Alpha Seiko was no longer human.

He was the Blood Red Wolf—three times larger than a normal alpha, his fur gleaming crimson, eyes burning gold like twin suns. A predator. A king.

A beast with the bloodline of the Red Moon God Wolf.

He turned to the mountains, lifted his massive head—and let out a single, thunderous howl.

The sound rolled across peaks and valleys, stirring the snow from trees, echoing into the void.

Calling.

Searching.

Somewhere, far away, the Silver Moon had awakened.

And he had felt her.