Mist curled over the Crescent Fang Pack lands, hiding the shapes of trees and stones. The night felt alive, yet the forest held its breath. Sammy and Sunny wandered among shadows, unsettled in ways they could not name.
Elyra walked the perimeter of the lower training grounds, silver hair brushing against the mist. She paused, feeling threads of power tug at her chest, subtle but insistent. Something beyond the visible world was stirring, and she knew it was deliberate.
The moon quivered faintly. Not light, but intent. Elyra whispered, "Selûnyth Vaelora… what are you planning?"
Her words were carried on currents of magic, felt more than heard. Somewhere beyond the forest, Eldric stood against a gnarled pine. His blind eyes reflected nothing, yet he sensed every pulse of the Moon, each subtle vibration in the night, and it called to him in ways he could not explain.
Morning arrived pale and uncertain. Wolves stirred in their dens, but unease lingered like smoke. Sammy paced, shadow stretching unnaturally, while Sunny observed him, aware of the tension that lay just beneath the air.
Elyra rested at the riverbank, hands folded over her lap. The water stilled unnaturally near her, moonlight glimmering faintly across the surface. She reached for guidance, for understanding, sensing a presence shaping the currents of the world in a way she had never felt before.
Far to the east, Eldric's senses traced the same ripples in the unseen. Even in sunlight, he felt the night extend across distances, connecting him to the threads of the Moon. Something ancient and deliberate hummed along those lines.
By twilight, the forest seemed alive with murmurings that only Elyra could feel. Tiny hairs on her arms rose as if touched by invisible fingers. She listened to the rhythm of the night, hearing intention, deliberation, and restraint entwined in a pattern that was old, careful, and powerful.
She did not need to see it to know: the Moon was watching. And so was he. Eldric's presence at the edge of perception twisted the flow of energy, subtle yet undeniable. He moved with awareness, blind eyes tracing the invisible lines that only he could navigate, part of a bond older than either of them admitted.
As darkness fell fully, Elyra returned to the inner sanctuary. Her fingers traced the silver markings along the cold stone walls, feeling the faint pulse beneath her touch. She whispered, "You weigh too heavily on them, Vaelora. They are not vessels. They are living, breathing."
The moon responded with a faint flicker, acknowledging only partially. Elyra felt the pattern again deliberate, careful. Not wrath, not punishment. Design. Something Eldric recognized in fragments, stirring memory and instinct he did not yet understand.
The twins slept fitfully, their breaths uneven. Elyra watched over them, noticing the subtle movements of their dreams. Sammy's unrest resonated with the forest around him; Sunny's calm radiated outward, balancing the tension.
The Moon's light bent strangely toward the sanctuary, and Eldric's awareness followed it, sensing the alignment of intent. For a fleeting instant, he felt as though the Moon consulted him silently, seeking counsel that existed beyond mortal comprehension.
Elyra knew instinctively that their fates were being observed, weighed, and tested. Eldric, for reasons she could not name, was a silent participant in this divine measure.
Outside, the forest remained still. Wolves stirred uneasily, as if sensing something large and distant moving along the currents of the Moon. Elyra's gaze shifted skyward. She could not see it, yet she felt it: threads weaving silently, connecting her, the twins, Eldric, and the Moon itself.
Something in the pattern was deliberate. The Moon's influence was subtle, but the intent was unmistakable. Eldric's presence aligned with it, resonating with a power few could perceive. His role was unclear even to him, yet undeniable. The threads converged, hinting at a truth neither human nor wolf dared name aloud.
The twins stirred again, restless beneath their blankets. Elyra whispered over them, "They are not yours to break, Vaelora. They are not tools. They are children."
The Moon shivered faintly, a weight pressing against the night. Eldric sensed it too, a call stretching across space that spoke of intent and design. Neither had yet spoken aloud, but both understood, in separate ways, that the Moon and the blind seer shared a connection unusual and intimate — one older than memory, one that would shape everything to come.
The forest held its breath. The night waited. Somewhere, far above, Selûnyth Vaelora considered her choices, her influence threading subtly, inexorably through the lives of those she watched