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The ancient prophecy, spiritual warfare, fierce love, and a destiny written in the stars. |
“Their saving grace was a girl, a prophecy, and the Super Blood Wolf Moon.” Super Blood Wolf Moon: Legacy Book One in the Soulwalker Saga Author: Tee Lane Word Count: 1673 Foreword From the Author Before this story begins, I want to share something about the soulwalker people — something that has lived at the heart of this saga since its very first spark. In the world you’re about to step into, the soulwalkers have always carried their identity in two parts: human and wolf. Not in the sense of shifting bones or breaking skin, but in spirit — courage paired with compassion, strength bound to loyalty, and a fierce devotion to family that runs deeper than blood. Their history stretches beyond the reach of written stories, passed down through whispered teachings, memories by firelight, and the quiet faith of people who refused to forget who they were. According to their oldest truths, God created them with a purpose. He placed the heart of the human and the soul of the wolf together so they could walk the earth in balance. When violence flooded the ancient world and judgment came in the form of rising waters, two soulwalkers entered the Ark under God’s protection. From them, the line survived. From them, the covenant was carried into every generation that followed. But survival was never easy. For centuries the soulwalkers lived in remote valleys, hidden forests, and mountain shadows — choosing secrecy out of necessity. Humans feared them. Some hunted them. Some wanted to erase them altogether. And yet they endured. They prayed. They remained faithful to the belief that they, too, were God’s children and belonged to this world as much as anyone born of woman. Even in the harshest moments of our nation’s history, the soulwalkers stood quietly in the background. During the American Civil War, some fought in uniform, others moved unseen, but all carried the same hope: that one day their humanity would be recognized — not only in law, but in the hearts of those around them. After the war, that recognition finally came. Soulwalkers were declared human under the law. Equal. Protected. Seen. Not always welcomed — but acknowledged. Even now, in the time of this story, prejudice still lingers. Shadows still rise. Some cling to hatred, wanting to diminish what they don’t understand. But the soulwalkers remain who they have always been: People of faith. People of resilience. People who honor their ancestors and guard their God-given gifts. People who endure. And always, beneath the moon, the wolf within them still runs — unbroken and eternal. This is the world you’re entering. This is the legacy that shapes the heart of my saga. Thank you for reading, Tee Lane The May-coo Prophecy (A sacred legend passed down through the tribes and soulwalker packs.) “When the blood moon bleeds into the light, a heart shall rise to heal the broken packs. Guard her path, for in saving her, you save yourselves.” — Words of the May-coo, Keeper of the First Moon Prologue The Legend of the Super Blood Wolf-Moon Listen well, for this is no tale of fancy. Long before the white man’s histories, the ancient people spoke of spirit-men—known later as soulwalkers—who walked in two skins: man and wolf. Around their fires, the elders told of healers and warriors called Maicoh, men of the wolf, who lived in harmony with their tribes. It was under the Wolf-Moon, the first moon of each new year, that their strength was greatest. Some moons burned bright as bone; others blushed with blood. When the moon bled red, the elders said it marked great change for soulwalkers. But once in an age, the heavens would give a greater sign: a Super Blood Wolf-Moon, rare and fierce, when destiny itself would rise. On that night, a Chosen One would be revealed. Anointed by blood and light, she would carry the gift to heal or to destroy—the gift to save her people from extinction, or to see them fall into shadow forever. They say that once in many winters, the sky itself remembers the ancient covenants of the wolves. When the moon grows swollen and bright, so near to Earth it seems to breathe above the treetops, it becomes what the ancients called the Wolf’s Lantern. But when that moon is swallowed by shadow, and the Earth’s breath turns its light to crimson fire, the old ones say it becomes something far greater: a night when heaven and earth touch, and the spirits of both man and wolf are tested. Science will call it coincidence—an elegant dance of orbits and light. But those who still listen to the old songs know the truth. The red is not from sunlight. It is from sacrifice. The Blood Wolf-Moon was first seen in the time of Wise Maicoh, who brought prophecy to the northern packs. He warned that darkness would rise again—a sickness of souls and greed that could bring the end of soulwalkers. Yet hope, he said, would come wrapped in blood and light. One child, born beneath the crimson moon, would bear the mark of the heart and the gift to heal the cursed, restoring balance between the realms of man and wolf. When the shadow crosses the moon, the veil between worlds grows thin. The air hums with the whispers of ancestors and lost souls. The blood-stained light marks the one chosen by the Creator Himself, destined to lift the curse—or die beneath it. Every pack since has waited beneath the Super Blood Wolf-Moon with awe and dread. They gather beneath its crimson eye, heads lifted to the heavens, watching for signs: a lightning strike on sacred ground, a howl that echoes beyond the wind, or the cry of a child born beneath the red light of destiny. Some call it myth—a bedtime story for soulwalker children. Others believe the covenant still holds. That when the Super Blood Wolf-Moon rises again, the Anointed One will return, and the balance of the world will tremble once more. They say the moon burns brightest just before midnight. That is when the wolves lift their voices to the sky, and one voice, clear and eternal, answers back. And so the story begins, on a winter night when the heavens bled red, and the light of an ancient promise fell upon the mountains. Somewhere beneath that burning sky, a child stirred in her mother’s womb, and destiny began to breathe. The Soulwalker Legacy For generations beyond counting, the history of the soulwalkers has lived in shadow. No one can say with certainty when the first of their kind walked these lands. But in the stories of the old ones, there are whispers—echoes of men who wore the skin of wolves and walked between the worlds of spirit and flesh. These tales, spoken by tribal elders, passed from tongue to ear, fire to fire. Outsiders dismissed them as fable, too wild to believe. Historians labeled them myth. But to the tribes—and to the soulwalkers themselves—these stories became sacred. They endure as ancient legends, the living memory of a world that once understood the language of wolves. One such legend tells of the Super Blood Wolf-Moon. It was first spoken of by a Maicoh, a spirit-man whose name in the old tongue held many meanings: wolf, healer, one who walks between worlds. Over time, these men came to be known as the May-coo, the first of the soulwalkers. The May-coo were more than men. They were healers, peacemakers, keepers of balance. They blessed the hunt, guided the dying, restored harmony, and brought wolves into their lodges as kin. Though they often lived apart—perhaps to protect their people from the wildness coiled within their souls—they remained bound by purpose and spirit. The wolf itself was sacred. Swift of foot and sharp of mind, the wolf is master of the hunt, tireless tracker, guardian of its pack. Wolves live by respect. They raise their young with care, defend their dens with fury, and when a mate is lost, they mourn with a grief that does not fade. For wolves—as for soulwalkers—love is forever. It was said that the May-coo, cloaked in wolfskin and guided by ancestral spirits, served as healers to the tribe. And it was the tribes who named the first full moon of January the Wolf-Moon, believing its light strengthened the sacred bond between spirit and beast. Some claimed that under this moon, the May-coo could hear the voices of their ancestors whispering through the wind. At times, that January moon would bleed red, becoming the Blood Wolf-Moon. But once in an age, the heavens would offer a rarer sign still: the Super Blood Wolf-Moon—a sky-born omen, fierce and luminous, heralding the rise of destiny. It marks the turning of fate. It calls forth one chosen above all others—anointed by blood and light—a soul born to protect the line of the soulwalkers and guard the world from the shadow of great evil. The prophecy tells that when the shadow swallows the crimson moon, the veil between mortal and spirit grows thin. In that moment, the blood in the moon’s light seeks its reflection in flesh: a healer born beneath its glow, marked by the heart of the Creator. Her coming will stir the ancient bloodlines and awaken the sleeping packs. Some still whisper that the bloodline of the first Maicoh endures in secret, hidden from the world—waiting for the moon to call it home. And now, as the Super Blood Wolf-Moon rises once more over the mountains of the East, the old prophecy stirs. This is that story. The story of one anointed beneath the crimson light. The story of Miakoda Whitehead, child of prophecy— and the woman destined to change everything. This is the opening of my supernatural romantic saga, Super Blood Wolf Moon: Legacy. I’d love to know what emotions it stirs and whether the pacing pulls you in. Thank you for reading the book opening. I appreciate all comments or reviews. Kind wishes, Tee |
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