Lyra, the mortal researcher, hopes her life will run out, so she presents the enigmatic Dragon King Kael as a sacrifice bride. Instead, she discovers that Kael intends not to let her escape; her blood carries the key to an ancient curse that seals dragons to death. Lyra had to choose between the human kingdom that turned on her and a celestial revolution designed to wipe out the planet. Either she would become a puppet in their hands or revolt against gods and dragons to help define her own fate.

Chapter 1 The Last Moon Weaver

"Elara, you're not thinking this through!"

Liora Thorne's words resonated loudly through the Lunar Sanctum, bouncing off the pristine crystalline walls. The flickering symbols engraved on the stone pulsed quietly as if reacting to the tension between them.

Elara Ravenscroft stood in the sanctum's centre, her hands hovering over the Celestial Prism, the ancient relic glimmering faintly beneath her fingertips. She turned to Liora, her face outraged and indignant. "What am I not thinking about?" The sanctum's wards are failing, and Wolf's Crest cannot exist without them. "Someone must act."

"Yes, act, not gamble!" Liora approached, her boots tapping quickly on the slippery floor. Her amber eyes flared, revealing her wolfish impulses. "If this ceremony fails, the sanctum and the entire kingdom will be destroyed." Werewolf clans are already attempting to keep peace. The dragons had been waiting for an opportunity to march back in. "You want to give them one?"

Elara's jaw tightened as her wrath grew. "What I want," she continued with a stern voice, "is to prevent Wolf's Crest from tearing itself apart."The sanctum has held this country together for generations, and if I do not solve it right soon, we will lose everything.

"You can't fix it if you tear it apart first!" Liora's fury boiled over, and her voice rose. "Tonight's energy is unstable. You feel it, even if you don't say it. "If you lose control-"

"I won't lose control," Elara insisted, cutting her off. Her fingertips brushed over the prism's smooth surface as if to settle themselves. "I am the last Moon Weaver, Liora." This is my obligation: "Nobody else can do it."

"You're right," Liora responded, her tone softening somewhat. "No one else can do it. But you don't have to do it alone. Allow me to help you, or at least wait for a better night.

Elara looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. "I have been alone since the day they murdered my family. Don't expect that to change just now.

For centuries, Wolf's Crest has relied on the Lunar Sanctum to offer magic and stability. Its dome, made of a single moonstone, reflected the full moon's silver light, resulting in moving patterns on the walls. The Celestial Prism, pulsating quietly in the centre, functioned as the sanctum's heart, maintaining the delicate balance of magic that kept the realm safe.

Elara considered the sanctum as more than just a place; it symbolized a history. Her family had been Moon Weavers, balance keepers whose magic had kept the peace throughout several wars and rivalries. But betrayal destroyed that heritage. Rival werewolf clans, motivated by greed, had turned against them, murdering her family and exposing their secrets.

Even the sanctum was failing. Its wards faded with each passing moon, and the prism's brightness diminished as its magic fell out of sync. Without it, the kingdom's fragile peace would collapse. Werewolf tribes would compete for territory, and the dragon shifters, who were already dissatisfied, would seize the opportunity to reclaim power.

Elara knelt before the prism, her hands solid despite the weight of duty bearing down on her shoulders. She put her supplies in a precise circle around her, including bowls of crushed lunar stones, vials of dazzling stardust, and a silver blade engraved with runes that glowed faintly in the moonlight.

"This isn't a gamble," she murmured quietly, barely audible. "It's the only chance we have."

Elara began her chant with a low and beautiful voice, and the words of her ancestors poured effortlessly from her lips. The air in the temple thickened and pulsated with energy as the patterns on the walls became more vibrant. The tools around her glittered softly, their strength mirroring the flow of magic.

At first, everything felt right. The prism replied to her invocation by increasing the intensity of its light, creating ripples of silver energy throughout the sanctuary. The runes pulsed in time with her words, and the sanctum's magic matched hers exactly.

However, the harmony eventually failed.

The prism's illumination altered, and the hum became uneven. A faint crackling sound resonated down the tube, suggestive of ice splintering under tension. Elara stared, her chant falling off as she pressed her palms against the prism.

"Elara," Liora said quickly, stepping forward. "Something's wrong. "You should stop."

Elara mumbled, "I can handle it," as doubt entered her voice. The magic beneath her palms appeared jagged and unstable, challenging her control. She closed her eyes and concentrated harder, hoping to regain her energy balance.

The shadows inside the cloister started to alter. They barged, pushing and twisting against the walls. A faint voice echoed around the chamber. The sound sent shivers down Elara's spine, but she didn't dare stop.

"Elara!" Liora's voice became angrier. "This isn't just magic in the sanctum anymore; something else is here."

"I just need more time!" Elara snapped, her frustration boiling over. "I can fix this."

The prism emitted a burst of lightning, turning her off. The symbols on the walls flickered and faded as the temple rattled.

Liora moved quickly, stepping forward amid the chaos. "You're losing control."Let it go.

"Don't touch me!" Elara shouted, unleashing a wave of silver light. The power pushed Liora back, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

The prism's brilliance turned red, and its hum transformed into a low, sinister snarl. The cloister's energy surged out of control, ripping through the walls like a raging hurricane. The runes faded even more, and their light flickered slightly as the sanctum's wards faltered.

Elara's breath came out in ragged gasps, and her body trembled from exertion. "No," she quietly said, her voice cracking. "I can fix it." "I have to."

But the prism snapped. A jagged fissure opened on its surface, releasing a blast of cold air that made Elara's breath misty. The murmuring became louder, their words harsh and senseless, filling the space like a hellish chorus.

The prism fractured. A blinding light erupted from its core, and Elara was thrown backwards, her body smacking against the earth. For a minute, there was only silence.

Then came the silence.

The sanctum was plunged into darkness, and the once-vibrant runes went lifeless. The air felt strangely cold, and the whispers ceased. A crushing nothingness descended over the chamber, punctuated only by the faint sound of Liora moving in the corner.

"Elara," Liora said, her voice full of sorrow. "What have you done?"

Elara brought herself to her knees, her body throbbing with each movement. Her gaze turned to the prism's fractured pieces, where the blackness appeared to accumulate, dense and substantial.

A figure emerged from the darkness. It was humanoid but unusually tall and slender, and its shape moved like smoke in the breeze. Its eyes shone like molten gold, penetrating the darkness with unflinching intensity.

Elara froze; her breath caught in her throat. She had not summoned this, had she? The ceremony was designed to repair the sanctum's wards, not to summon... whatever it was.

The monster turned its head and stared at her with unsettling stillness. It crept closer, its presence stifling, and the air around it sparkled with unbridled energy.

"You should not have called me," it snarled, its harsh and venomous voice ringing throughout the chamber like distant thunder.

Elara's mind raced, and her instincts told her to leave, but her body remained motionless. The phantom raised a clawed hand, aiming squarely at her.

"Elara Ravenscroft," it cried, her name flowing forth like a curse. "Your time has come."

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