The moon bled red that night, its glow staining the battlefield like spilled wine over shattered stone. Selene stood amidst the ruins of what was once the Lunar Citadel, her hands trembling as she tightened her grip on the hilt of her obsidian blade. The storm of war had not ended—it was only shifting. The gods had awoken, their hunger pressing down upon the mortal realm like an endless tide.
But tonight was not about battles of swords and steel. It was about shadows.
The Feast of Shadows was an ancient rite, long forbidden, long erased from scrolls, whispered only in dark prayers and cursed songs. It was said that when gods descended, when chaos threatened to consume both mortal and divine, the feast would be called. And at its table, no loyalty held firm, no bond remained sacred, for the shadows fed on truth and desire alike.
Kai approached her, his white hair damp with blood—some of it his, most of it not. His eyes burned gold in the moonlight, though his jaw tightened with unease. "They've started gathering," he murmured, his voice raw from battle. "The feast will not wait for us."
Selene turned her gaze toward the valley below, where a black flame flickered on the horizon. It was not fire of this world. The flame danced without heat, devouring air and time, beckoning all chosen to its banquet.
"Do you trust me, Selene?" Kai asked suddenly. His tone carried both challenge and plea.
She met his eyes, saw the fractures behind his strength—the gnawing fear of betrayal, of losing her to fate or rival. "I trust you more than I trust myself," she whispered.
Kai exhaled, almost as though the words had steadied him, though his grip on her arm lingered, as if he feared letting go.
But there were others already waiting.
When they descended into the valley, the gathering revealed itself—a circle of gods, half-formed, half-faded, their essences wrapped in mist and shadow. Mortal warlords stood among them, their armor blackened with sacrifice, their eyes glowing with stolen divinity. And there, seated at the head of the endless obsidian table, was the figure that made Selene's heart falter.
Nyxara—the First Shadow.
Her beauty was sharp enough to wound. Skin like onyx, lips red as slaughter, eyes deep enough to drown empires. She smiled, and with that smile, the air thickened.
"Ah… the wolf-blooded children arrive at last," Nyxara purred, her voice rolling like velvet thunder. "Come, sit. The feast awaits."
The table stretched into eternity, piled high with food that shifted form with every glance—grapes that dripped blood instead of wine, meats that breathed and writhed as if alive, chalices filled with liquid night. Yet it was not food the shadows hungered for. It was souls.
Selene hesitated, but Kai pulled her forward, their steps echoing like nails against glass. They sat side by side, though across from them, a rival leaned forward with a smirk.
Darius.
The warlord who once sought Selene's death. His scars glowed faintly under the red moonlight, his hand resting casually on the table as though this were nothing more than a game. Yet his gaze lingered far too long on Selene, making Kai's knuckles whiten on his blade.
Nyxara raised her hand. "The feast begins. But first… the truth must bleed."
And then, shadows slithered across the table, curling around throats, wrists, and hearts. Selene gasped as cold black fire licked her skin, tugging at her very soul. Around her, gods groaned, mortals cried out, and secrets spilled from lips unwilling.
"I betrayed my brother for power," one warlord screamed.
"I was the hand that guided the curse," murmured a god, shuddering.
"I dream of slaughtering them all," whispered another.
Selene tried to resist, but the shadows coiled tighter. Her voice trembled as the truth tore free. "I am not only wolf-blooded. I am… descended of the first huntress. My blood is divine."
Gasps rippled. Even the gods leaned forward.
Kai's head snapped toward her, fury and awe battling in his eyes. "You knew," he hissed.
"I didn't," she whispered, though her voice was ragged with guilt. "I only felt it in fragments. But now… now I know."
Nyxara's laughter shook the table. "Delicious. The goddess-blood awakens. And the gods will not suffer a rival."
The feast had become a trap.
Selene's vision swam as shadows pressed harder, whispering in her ear, promising her power if she only surrendered. Across from her, Darius leaned forward, his eyes glinting.
"You don't need him, Selene," Darius murmured, his voice like smoke. "Kai's love chains you. But I… I could make you eternal."
Kai slammed his fist onto the table, shadows scattering like sparks. "Touch her, and you'll choke on your own tongue."
The gods stirred, amused by the rivalry, feeding on it like nectar. The feast was never about food—it was about hearts unraveling, loyalties breaking, truths bleeding into the open. And now the greatest truth had spilled: Selene's bloodline was not mortal, not even wolf alone. It was godhood itself.
And gods did not share thrones.
Nyxara rose, her shadow towering. "Then let the feast claim its first offering."
The obsidian table split like a wound, and from its heart rose chains of smoke, reaching for Selene. Kai leapt forward, blade drawn, but the chains wound tighter. Darius stood, his smirk widening, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Selene screamed as the shadows dragged her toward the abyss at the table's core, where an endless maw of darkness yawned wide. The gods chanted, voices melding into a hymn of hunger.
And in that instant, Selene felt it—her divine blood burning, awakening, roaring in defiance. She was no offering. She was the storm.
Her eyes blazed silver and gold, her scream becoming a howl that shattered the shadow chains. Light erupted from her veins, throwing gods and mortals alike to their knees. Even Nyxara recoiled, hissing, her beauty cracking into something monstrous.
Selene rose above the table, her body blazing with the truth of her bloodline. The shadows cowered before her.
But the price was clear—if she embraced this power, she would no longer be merely Selene, the girl who bled, loved, and fought. She would be something else. Something gods feared.
And once the feast ended, the war for divinity would begin.