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The ancient prophecy, spiritual warfare, fierce love, and a destiny written in the stars. |
Chapter 1 Scene 1 Word Count: 1448 High in the mountain wilderness, the night breathed cold against the eaves of a small cabin. Wind sighed through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Somewhere beyond the ridge, an owl called—low and mournful—a sound that always made Pearl pause. In the old teachings, an owl’s cry was both a warning and a blessing, a spirit messenger reminding her that the veil between worlds was thin. Inside, the only light came from a single oil lamp burning beside the hearth. Shadows danced along the walls as the fire crackled softly, its glow wrapping the room in weary gold. At the old wooden table, Pearl bent over a soft leather-bound journal—the one she prayed her daughter would one day hold in her hands. Laughter had once filled Pearl’s life in a home alive with voices, stories, and warmth. But now, only the mountains listened. The cabin had become both refuge and prison. Here, surrounded by silence and snow, she was the last guardian of her daughter’s secret, the only one left to keep the promises made long ago. Each word she wrote tonight was a vow. Each page, a prayer in disguise. She longed to tell Mia everything—the truths hidden in their bloodline, the stories that carried both warning and wonder. What frightened her most wasn’t dying. It was leaving Mia to face this world alone, without the comfort of her mother’s voice. If she couldn’t stay, perhaps her words could. Perhaps this journal would carry her love into the spaces where her arms could no longer reach. A voice to guide and soothe. A whisper to remind her child who she was—and what she was meant to become. No book could replace a mother’s embrace, but Pearl filled these pages with the next best thing: comfort stitched into ink, wisdom folded between memories. She wrote of small, shining things she never wanted Mia to forget: laughter echoing through the lodge, her father’s smile, the way moonlight once silvered the snow outside their window. Between the memories, she wove soft prayers and quiet spells of protection—the kind of gentle magic meant to cradle a soul. She had begun this journal months ago, when summer’s light still touched the mountains. Now, deep in winter, the fire burned low and the cold pressed in. Back then, her hands had been steadier, her hope stronger. But tonight, as frost crept along the windows and the room seemed smaller, the quiet closing in around her, time felt thinner—quicker. Soon, Mia would face her first phase. That sacred, terrifying moment when a girl becomes her wolf. Pearl had told her once, “Your first phase won’t just change your body, Mia. It awakens the soul beneath your skin.” It would test her in ways Pearl could no longer guide her through. So she wrote on, finishing what she had started—setting down every truth she wished she could still speak aloud: how to listen for the wolf’s voice, how to breathe through the ache of transformation, how to trust the light within when the world turns dark. Outside, the wind rose again, rustling the trees like distant whispers. The owl called once more—closer this time. Not mournful now, but urging. A messenger pushing her toward what she already feared she must face. Pearl looked toward the window, feeling its echo stir in her chest. She rested her hand on the journal’s cover, breath trembling as she spoke the words she had whispered every night since Mac’s death. “Please, God… guard her when I no longer can.” A silence followed—so absolute that even the fire stilled its crackle. Pearl sat for a long moment, her hand resting on the journal, listening to the tick of cooling logs and the slow, steady thud of her own heart. Outside, the wind shifted. A single flake of snow pressed against the windowpane, melted, and slid like a tear down the glass. The owl called again, nearer now. Urgent. Not a warning now, but a summons. Stay awake. Be ready. Pearl rose and trimmed the lamp wick, but the flame only faltered, bowing low. The shadows on the wall deepened, twisting like smoke. A chill slid through her bones. She wrapped her shawl tighter. Just the mountain air, she told herself. Yet something unseen stirred—something that made the hairs along her arms rise. She closed the journal and whispered, “All is well. She sleeps safe.” But the words felt like lies on her tongue. A faint pressure gathered behind her eyes—the first pulse of a vision pressing to be born. She sank into the chair by the hearth, hands resting on the arms of the same wooden seat. The lamplight dimmed to a dull red glow. The vision came fast—like a storm. The world tilted once, twice—then folded inward like a shutter closing. Shadows gathered. They twisted and swirled, drawing together until they shaped something both foreign and familiar. Pearl drew a shaky breath, her pulse quickening as the air thickened with unseen energy. She could almost hear the voices of her ancestors whispering at the edge of hearing, urging her to listen. To see. Suddenly, the fire flared bright, its light cutting through the dark. When she blinked, she was no longer seeing the cabin around her, but standing in a vast, moonlit forest—though her body remained still in the chair. Trees loomed tall, their snow-laden branches glittering in silver light. Yet beneath her feet, the earth was warm and alive—a strange comfort against the cold that gripped her heart. “Pearl,” a voice called through the trees, low and rich as velvet. It beckoned her deeper into the dreamscape, guiding her past shimmering leaves and frost that caught the moonlight like shards of glass. “Pearl, send Mia away so she may answer her calling. You must protect her.” Through the drifting mist, a figure emerged—a woman robed in white, her hair flowing like water, her eyes lit with starlight. God’s angel. “Why do you linger in the shadow of doubt?” the angel asked. Her voice was melodic, but carried the weight of ancient knowing. “You hold the light within you. Do not forget it.” She stepped closer, her presence wrapping Pearl in warmth. “To fear is to be human,” she said softly. “But fear cannot undo love, nor can it steal your strength. Trust in God. He will guard her. She is His to protect, and His purpose lives within her. Take comfort in His promise—He has not forgotten the soulwalkers.” The angel’s gaze softened. “She carries your legacy, your strength, like a flame against the dark. God created soulwalkers, and He will guide and protect her light.” As she spoke, something inside Pearl kindled: a small, steady ember of hope glowing through the cold despair that had settled around her heart. Her mind turned to the journal waiting on the table—pages filled with her words, her prayers, her love. It was more than parchment and ink. It was a lifeline. A bridge between mother and child. “I will not walk beside her in body,” Pearl whispered, “but my love will always be her guide.” The angel nodded, a smile touching her lips. “Indeed, Pearl. Love transcends time and space.” The forest began to dissolve—stars overtaking the trees, washing the edges of the dream in silver. The angel’s form faded like mist at sunrise, but her presence lingered—warm, eternal, wrapping Pearl in a hush of peace. When Pearl stirred again, awareness flowed slowly back into her limbs. She was still seated in the same chair by the hearth, exactly where her body had remained. The fire burned steady, its glow reaching toward her. The oil lamp cast soft light across the walls. She sat up slowly, her breath unsteady, a quiet calm moving through her veins. Outside, the owl called once more. This time, it wasn’t a warning. It wasn’t even a push. It was a reassurance. A sacred whisper that she was not alone. She was the keeper of her daughter’s legacy. A warrior of love, chosen to protect through faith and memory. Pearl let her body sink into rest, the weight of the vision leaving her drained—yet steadied. She drew a slow breath, the memory of the vision resting warm against her heart. This is 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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