Serena Blythewood

Sera Hudson, last heir of the fallen House Hudson, infiltrates the heart of Fenris Keep disguised as a battlefield physician, bent on avenging her family’s massacre by killing Cain Elvis—the legendary “Crimson Moon Blade” Alpha. When her poisoned scalpel fails, she becomes Cain’s reluctant prisoner and is bound to him by the forbidden Vow-Blood Rite, forging a psychic link that shares every wound, memory, and heartbeat. Forced into his war council as a strategist, Sera discovers the price of vengeance is far deeper than she ever imagined.

As they plan battles against human fortresses and survive ambushes, Sera senses hidden truths in Cain’s scars and haunted past. Torn between the Assassin League’s demands and her growing empathy for the Alpha she vowed to kill, she uncovers a century-old conspiracy: her own father and the human king orchestrated her people’s slaughter. Branded a traitor, Sera risks everything to expose the lie beneath the war.

Their flight as fugitives leads them to the Wolf Council, where betrayal erupts into violence. In a final gambit at Dawn Gorge, Sera detonates an inferno that shatters the League’s power—and nearly destroys the psychic bond that saved them both. Five years later, as the “White Raven” envoy, Sera returns to Fenris, her scar a testament to sacrifice and hope. Reunited under a blooming moonlily garden, she and Cain renew their oath—no longer bound by blood, but by a shared promise to heal two nations that once bled for lies.

Vow of the Blood-Moon

The war council chamber smelled of smoke and steel. Long oaken tables were strewn with maps and quills, flanked by grim-faced generals in wolf-hide cloaks. Torchlight danced off their jeweled hilts as they argued tactics in low but heated tones.


Sera Hudson stood at the chamber’s head, her silver-thread bindings hidden beneath sleeves rolled to her elbows. Across from her, Alpha Cain Elvis folded his arms, golden eyes studying each officer’s reaction. At his right hand, Sera unfurled a detailed map of the mist-swamp region south of Ironridge.


General Brom—grizzled veteran of twenty campaigns—snorted. “Mist-swamps are treacherous, my lord. The bogs will swallow our siege-engines whole.”


Chapter 5