Thorns In The Moon.

Chapter 1: The Beginning of Destiny

Thunder cracked across the night sky like the howl of a wounded beast. The storm raged mercilessly, as though the heavens themselves mourned or warned what was to come. Rain lashed against the dense pine trees surrounding the Lonely Ice Pack's territory, drenching everything in its path. Deep within the grand stone fortress that stood at the heart of the territory, the air was thick with anticipation—and pain.

Luna Scarlette Knox screamed in agony, her fingers digging into the wooden arms of the birthing chair as another contraction ripped through her. Her long, silver hair clung to her sweat-soaked face, and her breaths came in sharp, gasping bursts.

Alpha William Knox stood by her side, his usually stoic expression cracked wide open with a mixture of helplessness and hope. "You're doing great, my love," he whispered, brushing damp strands from her forehead. His voice trembled, betraying the sheer weight of the moment.

And then, with one final cry that seemed to shake the very foundation of the fortress, the sound of a newborn's first wail cut through the air like a sword through silence.

"She's here," the healer whispered in awe. "The child of prophecy... the first female Alpha to be born in the history of werewolves."

The room fell still for a moment.

Scarlette's trembling hands reached out as the healer placed the tiny, wailing bundle into her arms. Her daughter. Her miracle. Her legacy.

"She's perfect," she whispered, tears of joy mingling with the rain that seeped through the cracked windows. William leaned in, his lips brushing his mate's temple.

"Carolina," he said softly. "Carolina Knox. Our Alpha."

The couple had chosen the name long before conception, a name that meant strength and grace—everything they dreamed for their child. In her tiny cries, they heard the call of destiny.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans.

That night, under the cover of storm and shadows, the rogues came.

There were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of them, their eyes gleaming with bloodlust and their minds twisted with madness. The scent of the newborn Alpha had travelled farther than they anticipated, and for rogues hungry for power, it was a beacon too tempting to resist.

Beta Blake burst through the birthing chamber doors, soaked and panting. "Alpha! Luna! We're under attack. It's the rogues... there's too many. Twice our number, at least."

William's face turned to stone. The joyous sparkle in his eyes extinguished in an instant. "Get the warriors ready," he barked. "Every able-bodied wolf. We hold the line."

"No," Scarlette whispered, her arms tightening around her baby. "We can't... we can't risk her."

William nodded once, slowly. He turned to the third-in-command—Gemma Jorik, a towering wolf with sharp eyes and a steady presence. "Take her. Take Carolina. And take Jenna too," he added, turning to Blake. "They'll be safer away from here."

Blake hesitated, eyes wide. "My pup...?"

"She's your heart," William said. "And I'm asking you to entrust it with mine."

Scarlette, heart-shattering in her chest, pressed a kiss to Carolina's forehead. "Protect her," she whispered, voice breaking. "Let her live. Let her rise."

Gemma took the infants gently, wrapping them in furs and tucking them to his chest. "I swear on the Moon Goddess," he vowed. "I'll keep them safe."

With one last look at their newborn daughter, William and Scarlette turned to face their fate.

Gemma ran through the rain like a phantom, shifting into his wolf form with both babies tucked in a custom saddle strapped across his broad back. Every step was agony. Every heartbeat felt like a countdown to destruction.

The trees blurred around him as he raced toward the borders of the Tranquil Pack—one of the oldest, most peaceful territories left in the region. Alpha Christian of Tranquil had a reputation for neutrality and compassion. If anyone would shelter orphaned pups, it was him.

Behind him, the sounds of war shattered the night. Snarls. Screams. The scent of burning timber and fresh blood.

By the time Gemma reached the gates of Tranquil, he was limping, bleeding from several wounds inflicted by rogue scouts during the escape. He shifted back, barely managing to speak before collapsing.

"These... these are the daughters of the Lonely Ice Pack," he rasped. "Alpha's daughter... and Beta's. Hide them. Train them. Let no one know."

Alpha Christian stood above him, his pale eyes hard but kind. Without a word, he took the bundles from Gemma's arms and signaled his healers to tend to the warrior.

One week later, the battle was over.

But victory never came.

The Lonely Ice Pack had fallen. Not a single warrior survived. The once-mighty fortress was reduced to a graveyard of charred wood, stone, and scorched earth. Blood soaked the fields where children once played. It took a full month for the neighbouring packs to cleanse the land of the devastation.

They held a council meeting, and the Alphas of five surrounding territories gathered under the ancient moonstone tree that had watched over them for generations.

"The prophecy child lives," Alpha Christian said, his voice carrying over the silent gathering. "And the Beta's daughter, as well."

"They must be hidden," said Alpha Mira of the Stormwind Pack. "If the rogues learn they survived, they will come again."

"Then we raise them," Christian decided. "Together. But in secret. Let the world believe the Lonely Ice Pack died with its leaders."

"And when the time comes?" asked another Alpha.

Christian's eyes turned to the night sky, where the moon glowed softly above them. "When they are ready... they will rise. And the world will remember what it means to fear an Alpha."

Carolina Knox would grow up unaware of the sacrifices made for her. Unaware that the blood of a thousand wolves had been shed to ensure her heartbeat continued. Raised among wolves who loved her but never truly told her why, she would feel the weight of an invisible crown she couldn't yet see.

But that night—the night of storms and screams—would live on in whispers, in dreams, and in the very blood that flowed through her veins.

And one day... she would remember.