The Eclipse's Omen

Prologue: The Eclipse's Omen

The sky bled crimson.

A shadow devoured the moon, swallowing its silver glow and replacing it with an ominous red halo. The air was thick with the scent of rain and something far more foreboding—death. The eclipse had come, marking the beginning of a prophecy long feared and whispered in the darkest corners of the supernatural world.

Celestine Valtora stood at the edge of the ruined temple, her breath shallow as the wind howled through the desecrated halls. The stone beneath her feet trembled, veins of dark energy pulsing through the cracks like the heartbeat of something ancient and vengeful.

"It's starting," a deep voice murmured behind her.

Lucien Vale stepped into the eerie glow of the eclipse, his storm-gray eyes unreadable. The weight of his presence was a force of its own, grounding her in the chaos unraveling around them.

Celestine clenched her fists. "We're running out of time."

Before Lucien could respond, a gust of freezing wind swept through the temple ruins, and with it came the scent of blood—old and potent. A figure emerged from the darkness, his crimson gaze gleaming like molten fire.

Draven Dragovic.

The vampire king moved with the predatory grace of a phantom, his presence a silent declaration of his dominion over the night. "The blood moon rises, and with it, your fate is sealed, Celestine."

A shiver ran down her spine, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. She had known this day would come, the day her bloodline's curse would awaken.

The war between werewolves and vampires had raged for centuries, but she was the key to ending it—or destroying them all.

As the eclipse reached its peak, a distant howl shattered the night, followed by the deafening silence of the world holding its breath.

The prophecy had begun.

Chapter 1: Marked by Fate

The scent of rain and damp earth clung to Celestine's skin as she ran through the dense forest, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. The shadows twisted around her, their forms unnatural beneath the blood-red glow of the eclipse.

She didn't dare look back.

The howls were getting closer.

Twigs snapped beneath her feet, the cold night air biting at her exposed arms. Her dress, once elegant, was now torn and muddied, clinging to her like a second skin. Each breath burned, but she forced herself forward, lungs aching, muscles screaming.

Then—

A blur of motion, a sudden weight crashing into her from the side.

Celestine hit the ground hard, her vision tilting as she rolled onto her back. A heavy presence loomed over her, pinning her in place.

A pair of silver eyes gleamed through the darkness.

Lucien Vale.

His breath came in ragged pants, his body radiating heat despite the night's chill. "Stop running," he growled, his voice rough, primal.

Celestine struggled against his grip, but it was useless. He was stronger, faster—everything she wasn't. "Let me go!" she hissed, her nails digging into his wrist.

Lucien didn't budge. "You don't understand. They're coming for you."

Before she could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows, the air instantly turning frigid.

Draven Dragovic.

Dressed in obsidian-black, the vampire king moved with effortless grace, his crimson gaze locking onto Celestine. "You are more stubborn than I expected," he mused, his voice dangerously smooth. "But your resistance is meaningless."

Lucien bared his teeth. "Back off, bloodsucker."

Draven chuckled, slow and deliberate. "And let you keep what is rightfully mine?"

Celestine's pulse spiked. "I am not a thing."

Draven tilted his head, considering her. "No, you are far more than that." His expression darkened. "And you will come with me."

Lucien's grip tightened, his muscles coiling. "Like hell she will."

The air between them crackled with tension.

Celestine barely had time to process what was happening before the world erupted into chaos.

Chapter 2: Between the Fangs and the Claws

The world blurred as Celestine struggled against Lucien's iron grip. The forest around them felt smaller, caged in by the presence of two opposing forces—one burning with raw heat, the other cloaked in icy menace.

Draven's crimson eyes gleamed as he took a slow step forward. "Do you really think you can keep her from me, mutt?"

Lucien snarled, his body shifting slightly, muscles tensing as though ready to pounce. "I don't think. I know."

Celestine's pulse spiked, caught between the unbearable tension. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, but something deeper—something primal—rooted her in place.

A gust of wind carried Draven's scent, intoxicating and laced with danger. He smiled, sharp fangs glinting under the crimson light of the eclipse. "She is bound to me by blood. You cannot fight fate."

Lucien's grip tightened. "Fate is a leash for the weak."

Before Draven could retort, the first arrow sliced through the air.

Lucien twisted, pulling Celestine against him just as the projectile embedded itself into the ground where she had stood a second before. Draven hissed, his gaze snapping toward the treetops.

Shadows shifted. They were no longer alone.

A group of hunters emerged from the darkness, their weapons drawn, silver-tipped arrows glinting. Their leader, a woman clad in dark armor, stepped forward, her expression unreadable. "The prophecy child," she murmured, eyes locking onto Celestine. "Kill the wolves. Capture the vampire."

Chaos erupted.

Lucien shoved Celestine behind him as he shifted, bones snapping, fur tearing through his skin in a violent transformation. A massive black wolf stood in his place, lips curled back in a snarl. Draven moved like a shadow, vanishing and reappearing behind one of the hunters, his fangs sinking deep into flesh.

Celestine staggered back, her mind screaming for her to act. To move. To fight. But the prophecy weighed on her like chains, binding her to an uncertain fate.

And in that moment, she realized—no matter who won this battle, she would never be free.