Chapter 1

[Valerie]

As strange as it may sound, I had often imagined myself knocking on Death's door in this manner. It was something I dreaded, something that kept me awake at night, and even then, I had no hope of being surrounded by loved ones, of having a familiar tongue lick my face or a warm hand holding mine as I breathed my last.

The attack on us came as a surprise. We had carefully planned our route and taken extra care to arrange our own attack so that we had the upper hand. The unsuspecting group we were intended to attack was allegedly out searching for food. When we hunted, we were vulnerable. Our senses were absorbed in the aroma of our prey's blood; sweet and warm, our tongues were overwhelmed with a desire for dripping, fresh meat. And it was then that the odor of our own species became less intense.

Our strategy was so sound that we were taken aback by the odd animals who emerged out of nowhere. When I first saw them, I was taken aback by their disheveled fur, which appeared greasy even in the night, and their yellow fangs as they beared them as they attacked. None of us had ever seen our species dashing between the trees on hind legs, and none of us had eyes as blood-red as the lunar eclipse.

Their heinousness had startled me to the point where all four of my limbs froze, as if I were bound by grass blades. Amalia's neck had just been severed, yet even her horrible death wasn't as frightening as their arrival. Perhaps I felt nothing as I watched her lifeless corpse - her human body - tumble to the ground since I hadn't seen her in a week. When one of those terrible animals buried their fangs into my ribcage, I barely had time to fully mourn or cry out the way her mate's wail ripped through the trees.

I was bleeding profusely. Far too rapidly. It was like watching a horror movie unfold in front of my eyes, as corpses lost their silky fur and fell to the ground as if their lives were nothing. The little air I had left in my lungs was enough to make me know that my own life was pointless. I had wanted to change that tonight, but as my warm blood oozed from the side I was sleeping on, a stray tear fell from my eye. My only hope was that my Alpha had heard the pain escape my lips as I assumed my human form before falling.

I had no right to be hopeful. My Alpha, the pack's leader, was the target of the second gang of rogue wolves known as Night Stalkers. The misfits, the pack I had only recently joined, had planned two attacks for tonight. And the attack on The Shadow Hunters was one I had ordered, with the promise of obtaining honor and the title of 'Alpha,' while I pursued the Night Stalkers in pursuit of their attack on the Mystic Moon Pack. I didn't know much about the latter, except that their Alpha was a tyrant of a wolf whose head was worth more off his shoulders than attached to it.

As the Night Stalkers fought off our assailants, the combat continued. As I watched each werewolf struggle for their life, I knew that they were simply fighting to protect themselves and their mates, if they were lucky enough to have one. But the scene was nothing out of the ordinary for me. I'd spent my entire life fighting for myself, struggling to be accepted, and even given up hope that I'd find a mate to fight for. For me, it has always been 'every man for himself.' Even joining the Night Stalkers was an attempt to establish a better path, but I could see how mistaken I was today. The rogue wolves didn't care about anyone; they just cared about numbers, and those numbers were dwindling as more malformed werewolves emerged from the shadows and ripped their nails into the flesh of our pack. Our group's leader raced for the darkness, but he was pursued by two of our attackers, and I closed my eyes as his cry pierced the air.

My heart was getting heavier. I knew the river was nearby, and if I dragged myself far enough, I'd reach it and take a sip to relieve the dryness in my throat. Someone nearby, whose name I couldn't recollect save that it was M? Melena? Mia? I yelled at her, my voice raspy, but her eyes were the only portion of her that witnessed the carnage. I rolled onto my stomach, cringing as more blood poured from my wound and struggling to raise my arm over my head. I closed my eyes as I sensed a presence, my ears alert as whatever it was sniffed my neck and barked. The sound was dreadful, and I knew it came from one of the strange beings. One of the rogues dispatched them just inches from where I lay before fleeing to gut another.

When I opened my eyes, there was a field of killed werewolves in front of me. I swallowed the bile that had reached my throat and drew myself forward with all my remaining power. It was pointless. I'd lost too much blood and was a fool to think I'd make it through this. If anything, I would die in vain, just like those around me, and I had to accept it.

I twisted around again, one hand over my wound, just enough to halt the bleeding long enough for me to reach a comfortable posture. If I had to die, I would do so while gazing at the stars. For the first time, I was struck by the onyx canvas's dazzling constellation. I wondered if I would have become a star in the sky if my blotched soul hadn't been condemned to the depths of hell. I was curious if the two stars that shone brighter than the others belonged to my parents. Perhaps they were simply brighter in my eyes, which were now filled with tears I refused to drop, for hope still burned in my heart. And, much to my dismay, that hope lasted as long as there was life in my lungs.

I'd never met my biological parents. And the people I knew didn't love me the way biological parents do. That was always obvious to me. Perhaps it was their lack of complete love that caused me to rely solely on myself. The rogue werewolves had vanished without even checking to see whether any of us were still alive. And in some ways, I was relieved that those who had escaped had not discovered that I was still alive. If my parents opened their door to a half-breathing mutt, it would only confirm my failure. They wouldn't say anything, but I always noticed the look they gave me when I didn't complete the tasks I set for myself.

Perhaps it was just bad luck. I didn't think luck had anything to do with one's life. But I had always tried to do better, to be better, but it had never worked. My parents instilled in me the concept that if you put in the effort, nothing is impossible. But no matter how hard I tried, I was always the one who was overshadowed, dominated, and ignored.

I wondered whether the Moon Goddess had finally chosen to pay attention to me as another star appeared in the sky. Endless questions occupied the closing moments of my existence. Whys. Why did She chose this day to be my last? Why did she subject me to this? Why hadn't I found my soul partner at the age of twenty-three? Why did I lead the life that I did? Why was it pointless? Despite all of my questions, She chose to smile down on me in the form of the brightest star in the sky. I couldn't tell if She was delighted with me or mocking me with her smile. In any case, I couldn't endure looking at those three stars any longer and closed my eyes as a piercing pain blasted through my chest, touching my heart that had been untouched for so long, and I saw what actually hurt behind my eyelids.

It was the childhood fantasy I had always had. We frequently fantasize as young girls about a tremendous love, one that fills your heart, curls your toes, and infuses life into every fiber of your existence. I'd never felt that way before, and my daydreams became the nightmares I had while sleeping. And now, as eternal slumber descended on me, I was confronted with the same nightmare that had tortured me for years.

The woods weren't always this black. The trees produced fruits and had sparkling green leaves, while the sun peered through the grass below. I was in my wolf shape, strolling through thick trunks on light paws. In the sunlight, my fur was a bright light brown, and I sailed across the river as if I had wings. The stomping sounds weren't just mine, and I felt different than I had in my entire life. I wasn't alone, yet the person who was after me didn't threaten me. Instead, they filled me with the kind of warmth I craved, my heart so full that it felt like the longest hug. As I climbed the mountain, I transformed into my human self, beaming over my shoulder. And when we got to the top, I felt arms wrap around my waist as someone embraced me from behind, and I laughed like the little girl who had gotten lost inside me. He brought me delight, whomever he was, and the sound of his laughing blended with mine as I dropped onto the blanket of grass atop the mountain and day changed to night. We looked at the stars, but not in the manner I do today. We counted them as a way to express our affection. And as I turned to gaze at the one who made me feel less lonely, all I saw was his dark mane. I stretched out and touched his shoulder, and he faded away and drifted away with the wind. And then I'd wake up feeling empty.

I just didn't wake up this time. But the emptiness overtook me. I refused to open my eyes again because I was afraid to face the unpleasant reality. So I bid farewell to no one in particular. Maybe the stars that were watching above me would hear me and realize I was waiting for my freedom. The dream was playing backwards, and I forced my thoughts to stop the instant I reached out to touch him, just so I could see him again, even if I couldn't see his face. What was important was that he was real to me, even if just in my dreams. And the longer I imagined him, the closer I got to seeing him turn his face towards me. My breathing was labored, and the agony was excruciating, but I had to see his face. So I hung on a little longer, waiting for him to completely turn. When his lips appeared, lush and full of life, I felt my life drain from every nerve-ending. My fingers were numb, and my heartbeat was slowing. I took my last breath and felt the words leave my lungs.

"I apologize for not being able to locate you."