The air in the Northern Territories had turned to ice. It was a preternatural chill, one that didn't just bite the skin but clawed at the very spirit of every living thing. At the horizon, the crimson moon was being swallowed by a massive, churning vortex of black clouds. This was the sign of the Blood-Hunt.
Ava stood on the ramparts of the Blackwood Manor, her eyes fixed on the treeline. Below her, the pack was a sea of fur and bared fangs. Thousands of warriors stood in formation, their silver eyes reflecting the dying moonlight. But even they were trembling. They knew that Marcus wasn't coming alone. He was accompanied by the High Inquisitors of the Lunar Council—the iron-clad zealots who had spent centuries purging the world of "aberrations."
"They are here," Silas said, stepping up beside her. He looked lethal. He had donned a suit of ancient, dark-steel armor, and the gold flecks in his eyes were burning like embers. He didn't look at the army; he looked only at Ava. "The Silver Veil is holding. They cannot smell the child, but they can smell the fire in your blood. They will come for you first."
"Let them come," Ava replied. Her voice had changed; it carried a resonant, metallic hum that made the very stones of the fortress vibrate. "I am done hiding behind your shadow, Silas. Today, I am the light."
The forest erupted. A wave of grey and brown wolves surged forward, led by a massive, scarred beast with eyes of pure, hateful red. Marcus. But behind the wolves walked three figures draped in heavy, silver-threaded robes, carrying censers that leaked a thick, paralyzing smoke. The Inquisitors.
Marcus shifted mid-run, landing on the gravel in front of the manor gates in his human form. He was naked, his chest heaving, a manic grin stretching across his face.
"Silas Blackwood!" Marcus screamed, his voice amplified by the Council's sorcery. "Give up the rogue! Give up the child of my blood, or watch your entire lineage burn! The Inquisitors have declared this house a den of heresy!"
Silas stepped onto the edge of the rampart, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "You speak of blood, Marcus? You, who sold your soul to the shadows for a chance at a throne you could never hold? The child is no longer yours. He has been claimed by a higher power."
"Lies!" Marcus roared. He turned to the Inquisitors. "See? He admits to the deception! Use the Rite of the Blood-Lock! Force the child to come to his true father!"
The three Inquisitors stepped forward in unison. They began a low, guttural chant that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air. A cage of crimson energy began to form over the manor, a spiritual trap designed to pull anyone of the same bloodline toward the caster.
Ava felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her womb. The Blood-Lock was trying to bypass the Silver Veil, searching for a biological resonance. She gasped, doubling over, her hands clutching the stone railing.
"Ava!" Silas lunged for her, but the crimson energy lashed out, throwing him back against the wall.
"Stay... back!" Ava hissed. She felt the child's distress through their link. It wasn't fear—it was anger. The child of the Solar Heart was refusing to be summoned.
Ava forced herself to stand. She closed her eyes and reached past the Silver Veil, reaching for the white-hot core of her own existence. She didn't look for the Moon; she looked for the star that lived in her marrow.
"You want the truth, Marcus?" Ava whispered.
She opened her eyes, and the world went white.
A pillar of pure, incandescent gold erupted from Ava's body, piercing the crimson cage of the Inquisitors as if it were made of tissue paper. The shockwave knocked the warriors on the ramparts to their knees.
Ava hovered inches above the ground, her hair flowing upward in a halo of fire. The Silver Veil didn't break; it transformed, becoming a shimmering suit of ethereal armor that clung to her curves.
"I am the daughter of the Dawn-Walkers!" Ava's voice rang out, sounding like the roar of a thousand lions. "I am the Solar Heart! And I find you... unworthy."
She raised her hand toward the army below. A rain of golden sparks fell from the sky, each one a microscopic sun. Where they touched the Crimson-Fang wolves, the beasts let out yelps of terror, their fur singed by a heat that didn't burn the flesh, but scorched the darkness in their hearts.
Marcus stared up in horror. "What... what are you?"
"I am your reckoning," Ava said.
She dove.
She hit the ground like a fallen star, the impact sending a wave of golden fire that vaporized the Inquisitors' censers and sent the robed men flying through the air. She moved with a speed Silas could barely follow, a blur of gold and white.
Before Marcus could even shift, Ava was in front of him. She grabbed him by the throat, her fingers burning into his skin.
"You called me a rogue," she said, her eyes inches from his. "You called me weak. You tried to steal the soul of a king."
"Please..." Marcus choked out, his eyes bulging. "Ava... have mercy..."
"Mercy is for the Moon," Ava whispered. "I am the Sun."
She unleashed the full power of the Solar Heart into his body. Marcus didn't scream; there was no time. He was consumed from the inside out, his body turning into a pillar of white ash that crumbled into the wind. The "Blood-Hunt" connection died with him, the crimson energy dissipating into nothingness.
The silence that followed was absolute. The remaining Crimson-Fang wolves were already fleeing into the woods, their spirits broken by the display of divine power. The three Inquisitors scrambled to their feet, their silver robes scorched black.
"This is not over!" the lead Inquisitor hissed, his face a mask of terror and zealotry. "The High Council will hear of this! You have awakened the ancient enemy! Every pack in the world will be sent to hunt the Solar Child!"
"Then tell them to come," Silas said, stepping down from the ramparts to stand beside Ava. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and as their skins touched, the gold and silver energies merged, creating a shimmering, iridescent field around them. "Tell them that the Blackwood Pack no longer bows to the Moon. We follow the Sun now."
The Inquisitors fled, vanishing into the fog like the cowards they were.
Ava felt the power receding, her feet touching the gravel once more. The golden armor dissolved back into the Silver Veil, and the brilliance in her eyes faded into a soft, glowing amber. She slumped against Silas, her body trembling from the sheer scale of the output.
"We did it," she whispered.
Silas picked her up in his arms, his gaze filled with a reverence so deep it was almost painful. He looked at his pack—his warriors, his Elders—who were all kneeling in the dirt, their heads pressed to the ground.
"The War of the Sun and Moon has begun," Silas said, his voice carrying over the silent fields. "But tonight, we celebrate. Tonight, the Golden Luna has returned to her throne."
Later that night, as Ava lay in the quiet of their room, the world felt vastly different. The contract they had signed months ago was gone, burnt in the fire of her awakening. She was no longer a fugitive. She was a legend.
But as she drifted off to sleep, she felt a cold, distant presence—a mind far more powerful than the Inquisitors, watching her from across the stars.
"The Solar Heart is awake," a voice whispered in the depths of her mind. "The Eclipse is coming. And the Sun will finally go dark."
Ava gripped Silas's hand in her sleep, knowing that the peace they had won was merely the calm before a much larger, cosmic storm. But for the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of the dark.
She knew how to start the fire.