Dark Moon

Prologue

Faster
It was the one word in his head. The one thing he could truly hear. Not even the screaming and howls could drown out that word. He had to get to his family. Protect them. He looked around. This couldn't be happening. Maybe if he had been a better King... It was too late to think of that now. His back broke into 3 streams of fire. He thought Braknek was supposed to be watching his back. He whirled around. Dark green eyes met his pale purple ones. He was quick to respond. He jutted his nails into the wolfs neck. A dying gurgle came from his throat. Behind him he could see Braknek on the ground. His pale purple eyes fluttering around. Palesilver ran to him. "Braknek! Please. Don't do this!" He yelled. Braknek slowly took Palesilvers hand and put one nail behind his head. "Get there." Braknek managed to mutter. Braknek threw his head back and his pale purple eyes grew white. Palesilver could feel the power. What was this? Was this the power the royal Lilac Wolves were rumored to have? Nobody dared to take a family members life to test a mere rumor. If they had, they were to be killed immediately. It continued to flow up his nails and through his arm. All throughout his body. He felt stronger and more powerful. He gladly, and regretfully took what was left of his cousins power. Palesilver knew there were guidelines to be followed though. He doubled over. He looked in a bloody puddle just in time to see his pale purple eyes, grow into a richer, darker, version of the familiar lilac color he was accustomed to. He knew what he had to do. He looked around to see his family lying all around. Hanging onto the thinnest thread of life they could suffice. He got up and rushed to each one. All of them. Cousins. Grandfather's. Brothers. Sisters. Uncles. Pleading to them all to give him their fleeting power. He stood to look at the bloodbath. He finally had the power he desperately needed. So much power. He let it consume him, course through him, even digest the human pieces that were floating around his feral, wolf brain. How could anyone ever hope to contain this. His eyes were a deep dark violet at this point. A rich royal purple with only hints of the lilac it had once been. A color you would associate with being on only the rarest of flowers. He lost himself completely to this newfound power. He could feel his legs popping and extending pushing him to over 9ft when standing. His torso grew to match it. His whole body started itching as if he had been lit aflame. He dropped to all four and clawed at himself with his now, 5 inch claws. All 10, razor sharp and 2½ inches thick. They could shred bone like paper. The wounds seared closed with a purple glow. Thicker and longer hair sprouted from his writhing and twisted body as his muscles seemed to spread under his thick hide even more and popped with each increase in size. The dark brown hairs claimed a dark purple hue as his face shot out into a gruesome muzzle. A thick row of sharp ivory teeth dripping with a virulent purple solution lined his muzzle while some teeth even shot and jutted past his lip line. The poison seeping from his mouth was said to make anything who even touches it, enter a comatose state while entering severely aggressive total organ failure. After all his bones snapped in place and his joints clicked together. He stood on all fours. A sick and twisted version of a level four werewolf. His vision blurry. Everyone looked like enemies in this frenzied state. He jumped towards the nearest victims, most of which had stopped moving either out of fear or awe. Clawing and biting. Bodies dropping in half at a single swipe. He saw a glimpse of what looked like his sister. He couldn't bring himself to care. Every last bit of human had been extinguished and his instinct to protect his pack was smothered by his immense bloodlust. His muzzle tore into her throat. That delicious thick red substance oozing into his mouth only made him howl for more. He pulled away and snapped. Spraying everything with that virulent concoction. He continued. For hours. Killing. Spraying. Blood. Screams. It got the point where the rebels and the royal family were working together to kill him. All of their attacks did nothing. All scratches and bites healed the moment their claws or teeth left contact. He had taken the power of too many... Over two hundred family members gave their power. It was over. The war raged for 2 days. The sheer amount of blood on the ground could've put out the sun. Heaving. The cuts healing more slowly now. He morphed back into a level 1 werewolf. His canines were longer than an average human, his toe and fingernails were long and sharp, and he could smell nothing but the stench of soured earth but he finally had control again. Although his eyes were still an extremely deep purple. He fell to knees, weary from all he had done. The smell of blood thick like rags in his nose. He couldn't even hear the footsteps of his son behind him. "Yo... You're a monster dad..." The little boy said. "Come, Moonglance." Palesilver beckoned. He calmly grabbed the boys hand. "Please... Use this wisely and for good. Your heart is more pure... You can control it more easily." Palesilver closed is eyes and squeezed the boys hand. "I need you to envision yourself a wolf again. But only this single had as a paw. Can you do that?" Palesilver asked his son. The boy looked at his father with equal part fear and confusion. He nodded and closed his eyes. Moments later, the boys small hand sprouted fur as his fingers elongated and his nails became longer, thicker, and sharp. Pakesilver took the boys hand and placed his sons small claw at the base of his neck. "I'm truly remorseful at what I have done. Maybe.. Just maybe I can atone through you." And with that, he thrust his neck back and willed all his power to transfer into his son. The boy screamed. It filled his veins. He crumpled to the ground still screaming and in complete agony. The boys father fell forward as the young prince's eyes changed from a bright lilac into a deep purple. HIs breath became haggard as he fought the power from taking control. At almost 8 years of age, this task was most certainly a grueling one. Parts of him would immediately take the form of the werewolf his father was just consumed by and then immediately go back to normal. This continued for maybe 15 minutes until the young prince became victorious in this battle. He looked up, every tooth razor sharp, and roared loud enough to shake the ground before falling unconscious.