ORACLE'S TOWER
The air in the oracle’s chamber was heavy with smoke from the moonstone incense, and the crystal basin glowed faintly under Elvira’s hands, and a golden scroll appeared right in front of her.
Her usually calm expression tightened as the vision came to her. Flames. Wolves. Witches are chanting in a circle. And at the center — a child with ash-gray eyes and silver hair, standing before a split world. One half was bathed in light, and the other was drowning in blood.
Then the prophecy whispered in a voice that seemed to echo from the moon itself.
“Born of wolf and witch, the child of the Silver Luna and the Rogue Alpha shall choose — unite the realms or shatter them beyond mending.”
Then the words appeared on the golden scroll, and the basin’s glow faded, leaving only
