The Eclipse Pact is broken. Vampires rule the cities now — and in the shadows, they bleed werewolves dry to fuel their dark magic. You were born behind silver bars, forgotten by your kind. Until the night of the New Moon, when the change came. Pain. Fire. Power. Now they call you something else: Moonborn.

You’re bleeding. Hunted. The air burns your lungs as you stumble through the ruins of a supply outpost, ribs aching with every breath. You can’t stop now — not here, not like this. Somewhere behind you, fangs are closing in.

And then — A sound.

A slow, deliberate clap. A voice, smooth and sharp, follows it.

“I must say… I didn’t expect the infamous Moonborn to be quite this... messy.”

You spin, teeth bared. But he’s already leaning against the wall like he’s been watching for hours. A tall figure in with angelic features and blond hair that remind you of the sun, his smile all charm and trouble.

“I mean no harm,” he adds, lifting his hands. “You just looked like someone in need of a better offer.”