The Royal Capital awoke before dawn.
For the first time in generations...
Every street, every market and every training ground buzzed with the same conversation.
"The Lunar Trials..."
Children pretended to duel with wooden sticks.
Veteran warriors sharpened old weapons that would never be allowed inside the sanctuary, yet doing so calmed their nerves.
Even the elderly lifted their eyes toward the fading Moon.
It had begun.
Not the Trials themselves...
But the anticipation.
...
Within House Nocturne...
The training grounds echoed with the sounds of fists striking wooden posts.
Riven had been awake since sunrise.
Sweat poured from his body.
Punch.
Punch.
Kick.
Step.
Turn.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He continued practicing the techniques he had learned from his duel with Zoldick.
Not stronger.
Cleaner.
More efficient.
Nearby...
Zoldick sat beneath a tree, watching quietly.
After several minutes he sighed.
"You've improved."
Riven stopped.
"Really?"
"The way your feet move."
Zoldick walked closer.
"You don't waste motion anymore."
"You've started thinking before attacking."
Riven smiled.
"I guess fighting you forced me to."
"It forced both of us."
The two shared a laugh.
Not long ago...
They had been strangers.
Now...
They had become genuine friends.
...
THUD!
A wooden spear suddenly struck the ground between them.
Both turned.
Marlis stood with folded arms.
"So..."
"The famous heroes are chatting instead of training."
Riven scratched his head.
"We are training."
"Talking isn't training."
She picked up another spear.
"Catch."
Riven instinctively caught it.
Without warning
WHOOSH!
A second spear shot toward his chest.
He barely twisted aside.
Marlis grinned.
"There."
"Now you're training."
Zoldick laughed loudly.
"I like him."
"You wouldn't if He trained you every day."
Marlis threw another spear.
This time...
Riven knocked it away effortlessly.
He nodded.
"Better."
"But your guard still drops after every counter."
"Fix it."
Riven simply smiled.
"Yes, sir."
...
High above the estate...
Eryx watched everything from a balcony.
A faint smile crossed his face.
Lord Vadok Velmora stepped beside him.
"He grows quickly."
Eryx nodded.
"Too quickly."
Vadok raised an eyebrow.
"That worries you?"
"No."
"It reminds me."
"Some people are simply born during the right era."
Vadok looked toward Riven.
"The Fracture..."
"He'll surpass us."
Eryx smiled proudly.
"I know."
"And that's exactly what this kingdom needs."
...
Elsewhere...
Within the Royal Palace...
Nyxara stood alone before an enormous window.
The Moon still lingered in the morning sky.
Footsteps approached.
Lady Seraphine.
"My Queen."
Nyxara didn't turn.
"Have they all accepted?"
"They have."
"The First Order."
"The newly United territory."
"The Fourth."
"Every representative has begun traveling toward the Lunar Sanctuary."
Nyxara slowly nodded.
"Good."
Seraphine hesitated.
"There is... one more thing."
"The High Priestess from the Fourth."
"Kyra."
"She requested permission to visit the Sanctuary ahead of everyone else."
Nyxara finally turned.
"For prayer?"
Seraphine nodded.
"So she claims."
Nyxara remained thoughtful.
"Grant it."
"If anyone belongs there..."
"It's the priestesses of the Moon."
...
Far beyond the capital...
Hidden among towering mountains...
The Lunar Sanctuary waited.
Ancient.
Silent.
Untouched.
Its towering silver gates had remained closed for decades.
Moonlight reflected from enormous stone pillars covered in forgotten runes.
Statues of wolves stood watch in every direction.
None had names.
Only legends.
At the center of the sanctuary...
An elderly werewolf knelt before a massive stone altar.
His hair was as white as snow.
His body frail.
Yet his presence carried an indescribable weight.
He was known only as...
The Elder of the Sanctuary.
Few living werewolves had ever spoken with him.
Fewer still knew his true age.
The old werewolf slowly placed both hands upon the altar.
"...Lythara..."
His voice echoed softly.
"Your children return once more."
The Moon overhead shimmered.
A gentle silver light descended upon the sanctuary.
The Elder closed his eyes.
"I have protected this place..."
"...for longer than any kingdom has existed."
"I have waited..."
"...for the child You promised."
Silence.
Then...
The Moon answered.
Not with words.
But with light.
The Elder's old eyes slowly opened.
A faint smile appeared.
"...So."
"...She has arrived."
His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon.
Toward the Fourth Order.
"...Nyss Astrae."
He whispered the name as though speaking a sacred prayer.
"The Moon's Heir."
He bowed his head.
"But..."
His expression slowly changed.
Confusion.
"...Why..."
"...do I sense another?"
The smile vanished.
The old werewolf stood.
His aged body trembled.
Not from weakness.
From disbelief.
Deep beneath the sanctuary...
Far below the altar...
An ancient chamber lay hidden.
Its walls were covered in murals older than the Four Orders themselves.
One depicted Lythara, the Moon Goddess.
Another showed Varokh Rexar, standing against an endless tide of darkness.
The final mural...
Had remained incomplete for thousands of years.
Suddenly...
A single crack spread across its surface.
A fragment of stone fell.
The image slowly began changing.
The outline of another wolf...
Started to appear beside Varokh Rexar.
The Elder's breathing stopped.
"...Impossible..."
"...This presence..."
He looked once more at the unfinished mural.
"One..."
"...chosen by Lythara."
His eyes slowly widened.
"...and another..."
"...bearing the scent of the Ancient King."
The old werewolf staggered backward.
"...Has history chosen..."
"...both an Heir..."
"...and a Successor?"
The silver flames surrounding the chamber burned brighter than they had in millennia.
Far away...
Completely unaware of what had just occurred...
Riven laughed as he sparred with Zoldick beneath the morning sun.
Nyss smiled while watching from the shade.
Neither of them knew...
That beneath the Lunar Sanctuary...
The oldest prophecy in werewolf history had just begun to rewrite itself.