Entwined By Moonlight

Prologue

The forest was still, save for the wind whispering through the branches, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Under the full moon's cold light, the shadows twisted and stretched, dark and menacing. In the distance, a low growl broke the quiet—followed by another, then another. It was the kind of sound that sent animals scattering and turned the air electric with tension. Tonight, blood would be spilled.

Fenrir Blackwood stood at the edge of a clearing, his breath coming out in steady puffs of mist. His body, massive and powerful in his wolf form, was coiled tight, muscles tensed like a drawn bow. His brown fur rippled as he listened, each growl in the distance marking the approach of his enemies.

He could smell them before he saw them—Rolf and his pack. Their stench was unmistakable, a mix of wet fur and old blood. They had trespassed into his territory, and Fenrir knew there was only one reason for their boldness: they had come to kill him.

A twig snapped to his right. Fenrir turned his head slightly, golden eyes narrowing. He knew better than to expect an honorable fight. Rolf wouldn't challenge him alone—he never had the guts. The coward was probably circling, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, hoping his pack would do the dirty work. Fenrir felt a surge of contempt.

"I know you're out there, Rolf!" Fenrir growled, his voice low, carrying easily through the trees. "Hiding like the coward you are."

Silence followed, but it was short-lived.

From the darkness, a deep chuckle emerged, followed by Rolf's smug voice. "Coward? Blackwood, you're alone. And tonight, you're going to die that way."

Fenrir's lip curled back in a snarl just as Rolf and his pack stepped into the clearing. Rolf was in the lead, his hulking form barely recognizable as a wolf, his eyes glowing with malice. Behind him, four of his strongest wolves flanked him, each snarling, their eyes locked on Fenrir.

"Five against one," Fenrir muttered, his muscles rippling beneath his dark fur. "You always did prefer the odds in your favor."

"Nothing wrong with being smart," Rolf sneered, his lips peeling back to reveal sharp, bloodstained teeth. "Besides, we both know you can't win this."

Fenrir didn't waste his breath with more words. Instead, he sprang forward with blinding speed, his massive body a blur as he charged at the nearest wolf. His claws slashed through the air, tearing across the wolf's chest before it even had time to react. Blood sprayed, and the wolf yelped in pain, staggering back.

But there was no time to celebrate. Two more wolves lunged at him from opposite sides. Fenrir spun just in time to avoid one set of snapping jaws, but the other caught him off guard, sinking sharp teeth into his hind leg. He snarled in pain and whipped around, his powerful jaws clamping down on the attacker's neck. With a savage twist, he threw the wolf to the ground, but not before the others pounced.

Rolf stood back, watching with a twisted grin as his pack swarmed Fenrir. He was fast, stronger than most, but there were too many of them. Claws raked across Fenrir's side, deep gashes opening up as the wolves tore into him. He fought back fiercely, his movements swift and brutal, but the weight of the pack was overwhelming. Every time he knocked one down, two more were there to take its place.

Fenrir felt a sharp pain in his side as one wolf's claws ripped through his flesh, sending a surge of heat and agony through his body. Blood soaked his fur, but he didn't slow. With a savage roar, he tore the wolf off him, slamming it into the ground so hard he heard bones crack.

But then Rolf joined the fray.

With a snarl, Rolf leaped at him, claws extended. Fenrir barely had time to brace himself before the rival alpha crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. The impact drove the breath from his lungs, and before he could recover, Rolf's claws were sinking into his shoulder.

"You've ruled these woods long enough," Rolf snarled, his breath hot against Fenrir's face. "Time for a new leader."

Fenrir growled in defiance, trying to throw Rolf off, but his strength was waning. Blood poured from his wounds, soaking the ground beneath him. He managed to throw a punch, claws grazing Rolf's face, but the attack only seemed to enrage him.

Rolf retaliated with a brutal swipe across Fenrir's chest, the claws cutting deep. Fenrir roared in pain, his vision blurring as he struggled to stay on his feet. The rest of the pack circled around them, watching with predatory eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

"You're finished, Blackwood," Rolf spat, his lips curling in a savage grin. "No more running. No more hiding."

Fenrir, panting heavily, glared up at him. His body was screaming in pain, blood streaming from the deep wounds on his chest and flanks, but his defiance burned bright. "You'll have to kill me first."

"With pleasure," Rolf snarled.

With a final, bone-shattering strike, Rolf's claws ripped through Fenrir's side, and the world tilted. Fenrir staggered, his legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed to the ground. His vision dimmed, the sounds of the forest fading away as blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the earth.

Rolf stood over him, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Leave him," he ordered his pack, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Let him bleed out. By morning, the scavengers will have picked him clean."

The pack followed Rolf into the shadows, their laughter fading into the night, leaving Fenrir alone in the blood-stained clearing.

As the darkness closed in around him, Fenrir's body lay broken and torn, but his spirit—though weak—held on. Somewhere deep in his mind, a single thought flickered like the last embers of a dying fire.

Not yet.

Then the world went black.

***

Portrait of Fenrir Blackwood (Human Form)

Portrait of Fenrir's Wolf Form