The legend was older than the pack itself. Long before Kael Thorne took his first breath, his ancestors had made a pact with the lunar spirit—a deal forged in desperation and ambition. They sought strength, unmatched power to protect their pack from rivals, but the spirit demanded a price. The gift came with a curse: the youngest child in each generation would inherit a beast inside, uncontrollable and bloodthirsty under the full moon.
The elders whispered of it, a story for the youngest children, a warning wrapped in shadows. Few had survived the curse’s awakening, and those who did carried scars of body and soul. Darius Thorne, the current alpha and Kael’s father, had faced it himself. He had mastered it through discipline, meditation, and painful rituals, but he had never fully forgiven the spirit—or himself—for the price of their power.
And now the curse had chosen Kael.
Kael’s senses were already on edge as he paced the edge of the forest. The full moon hung low, swollen, its light seeping through the branches and bathing the world in silver. The air tingled with energy, the kind that made fur stand on end and claws itch to be free. He could feel it stirring inside him—the beast, hungry, impatient, and dangerous.
He clenched his fists, willing himself to stay in control. Not this time. Not tonight. He had been warned too many times about losing control. One mistake, and the pack, or worse, the humans nearby, would suffer.
A faint noise drew his attention—a scream. Kael’s ears twitched. Instinct urged him toward it. He ran.
The village at the forest edge was under attack. A rogue lycan, wild and violent, had entered, terrorizing the humans. Kael’s heart pounded—not from fear, but from the stirring of the beast within him, sensing a rival. He fought to restrain it, to remain Kael and not the monster that lurked beneath.
And then he saw her.
Elara Voss. The healer. The woman who had captivated his thoughts for months, despite the barrier of fear and mistrust between them. She was crouched beside a wounded villager, chanting softly as she pressed herbs against a deep gash. Her golden hair gleamed under the moonlight, her eyes sharp and alive even in the chaos.
For a heartbeat, Kael forgot the beast, forgot the danger. He only saw her, and the strange, painful longing that always followed him when she was near.
Then the rogue lycan turned, its eyes glowing red, and Kael felt the surge of power within him ignite. He tried to push it down, to suppress it—but the beast was strong tonight, bolstered by the blood moon. His claws itched to tear, his teeth itched to bite.
“Kael!” Darius’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. The alpha appeared at the forest edge, flanked by pack members. “Control it, or step back!”
Kael forced himself to focus, inhaling deeply, the scent of the rogue, the humans, and Elara mixing into a dizzying torrent. With an almost impossible effort, he held back the transformation, lunging only enough to knock the rogue lycan off balance. It fled into the trees, snarling, leaving Kael trembling but alive.
Darius stepped forward, eyes blazing with both anger and worry. “How long will this last, Kael? How long before your curse destroys you—or us?”
Kael’s hands shook, but he straightened. “I… I can control it,” he said, though his voice wavered. He knew Darius didn’t fully believe him. He never did. Not yet.
“You nearly killed one of your own,” Darius said, voice low, dangerous. “And if the pack loses faith in you, there will be consequences.”
Kael’s gaze dropped to the ground. He knew it was true. The curse wasn’t just a threat to others—it was a weapon turned against himself. And worse, it drew him closer to Elara even as it threatened to make her fear him.
Elara rose to her feet, her eyes meeting his. There was fear there—but also recognition. She didn’t know what Kael was yet, not fully, but she sensed it in the air, in the way he held himself back, in the tension that radiated off him. She stepped closer, brushing dirt from her hands. “You saved him,” she said quietly. “And… thank you.”
Kael swallowed, heart hammering. “I…” His voice faltered. “I didn’t mean to—”
Darius stepped between them, cutting the moment short. “This isn’t about gratitude, Kael. It’s about survival. Yours. The pack’s. And if you cannot master this curse, none of it matters.”
Kael looked at his father, then at Elara. He understood, finally, the magnitude of what was expected of him. The curse wasn’t just a legend. It was real. It was his inheritance. And under the blood moon, the fight to control it had just begun.
The rogue lycan was gone. But the danger, the beast, and the forbidden pull toward Elara remained. Kael knew one thing for certain: he would either master the curse—or lose everything he loved, including her.
