*PRESENT DAY*

I woke up in a dark place, lying vertically seventy-eight inches long, twenty-three inches wide, and 16–24 inches tall. If my assumptions were right, both of my hands were placed on my stomach, which made me realize that I was neatly dressed and also felt light-headed, but wait!

I thought I was dead, but I felt okay. I used my hands to touch the place Clara had inflicted pain on, but I felt nothing; my body was smooth without a single scratch on it, and my little bump was nowhere to be found.

I tried to push the wood that covered me, but my hand went through it, and I withdrew my hand in shock and fear. I tried again, but the same thing happened.

"What on earth is happening?" I asked no one in particular, and, after a few seconds of hesitation, I tried again, but this time with determination. I tried to push the wood open, and, as expected, my hand went through it, the same as every other part of my body. I came out of it and froze, where I stood with my eyes wide open in shock.

I stood there, my brain processing everything that was happening before it all became clear to my understanding, and now I am currently drowning in my sorrows as my feet fell into the black abyss.

The atmosphere hung heavy with grief as I came out of the somber space that houses my burial. The air was filled with a sense of collective sorrow as mourners clad in muted black attire gathered to pay their final respects. The environment itself was bathed in soft, muted lighting and seemed to echo the weight of the occasion.

At the front of everyone stood a wooden coffin, adorned with an array of flowers. Rows upon rows of tombstones stood with quiet dignity, making the final resting place of those who had come before me. The landscape, which was adorned with manicured lawns and ancient trees, created a serene backdrop for this sacred place.

All eyes were placed on the coffin in which my body lay as it was slowly placed on the six-foot ground and almost covered with sand. The rituals of remembrance and final goodbyes were observed with solemnity. As the service drew to a close, the mourners stepped forward to pay their respects one after the other.

It was a difficult sight to witness. My parents stood there, holding each other's hands as tears fell from their eyes. Their hands were clenched together, gripping at each other as though the pain would subside if they squeezed hard enough. It's pure comfort, but I wonder if it was just superficial comfort.

Then suddenly, all I could hear were the heavy pounding feet of people that I hadn't seen in my lifetime. They matched rhythmically as one; they were an army of werewolves led by a man with exceptional beauty.

He ran to the coffin, which was already fully covered with sand with a gravestone placed on it, and my name, "Alexander Glenn," was inscribed on it.

I could feel that his pain for me was real when he cried bitterly, unlike the others who were sweetly crying with punished tears, punishing their eyes with a clean hankie.

I walked towards him to see his face, but I had never seen his privileged white face before me. I could feel his anguish and torment deep in my bones, and it was agonizing that I could even feel my heart bleeding out for him.

He kissed my gravestone, and I felt a shiver down my ghostly spine. What was wrong with me? He stood up in anger and took out a small knife from his expensive black leather jacket. He slashed his palm with the knife, and his blood began to drip from his hand, staining my gravestone.

His eyes were blazing red, and then he swore to himself right in front of everyone and talked so inaudibly that no one could hear what he was saying, but they could see that his mouth was moving.

It seemed the people in attendance knew what had happened because no one was as shocked as I was by the sudden intrusion and the large army. He walked towards my parents, who were visibly shaken by his sudden approach, and they held each other for support.

"You both are a disgrace to mankind and are not fit to be called the Alpha and Luna of the Wind's pack if you do not take care of and support your only child!" He growled at my parents; his growls sounded like thunder. He walked past my parents and looked at his army, then he nodded his head. They all bowed their heads in submission and left the graveyard.

I followed them, wanting to know the outcome of the situation. The air was thick with anticipation—a mix of trepidation and a deep desire to honor and remember. By the time they arrived at the Blood Moon pack, it was already dark, and it seemed that both packs were ready for the battle.

The moon hung in the darkened sky, casting an eerie glow upon the large battleground. Deep within its depths, the stage was set for an epic clash between the two werewolf packs. Tension cracked in the air as the first pack, its muscles rippling with power, took its position on one side.

Across from them stood the formidable Bloodmoon pack, their eyes glinting with fierce determination. Growls and snarls reverberated through the night as the pack leaders emerged from the shadows, their Alpha status unmistakable.

The first pack leader, the pale white man, a towering figure with a coat as black as the night itself, exuded an aura of raw strength. His piercing red eyes locked onto his adversaries, his fangs bared in a silent challenge.

The second leader, the Bloodmoon Pack Alpha, slightly smaller in stature but no less formidable, possessed a coat of silver-grey that shimmered under the moonlight. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of icy blue, burned with a ferocity matched only by the rival alpha. He met the gaze of his opponent, unyielding and resolute.

With a blood-curdling howl that pierced the silence, the battle commenced. The werewolves of the first pack lunged forward, teeth bared and claws extended, their movements fueled by an untamed fury.

I scrutinized through the crowd to see Clara and Gabriel fighting side by side against their rivals. The clash of bodies echoed through the battlefield as the Blood Moon pack retaliated with equal ferocity, unleashing their primal instincts.

In a blur of fur and muscle, the werewolves clashed, each blow accompanied by guttural snarls and the scent of sweat and earth. The forest bore witness to a dance of power and agility as both packs fought tooth and nail for dominance. Claws raked against flesh, and fangs sank deep into the adversaries' hides, drawing blood that mingled with the earth below.

Moonlight illuminated the relentless battle, casting elongated shadows that danced with the rhythm of combat. The ground shook beneath the weight of the shifting bodies as werewolves tumbled and rolled in a desperate struggle for control. They fought not only with their physical prowess but also with a deep loyalty to their respective packs, their bonds fueling their resilience.

Gradually, exhaustion and wounds began to take their toll. The once ferocious combatants showed signs of weariness, their movements slowing and their breaths laboring. Both packs had suffered losses; their ranks had diminished, but the fire within their hearts had burned undiminished.

The mesmerizing white man pack wreaked havoc on the Blood Moon pack. No one was left untouched. All I could see was white in a sea of black as the thunder clapped above me.

The atmosphere became chilly, and rain began to fall heavily. I looked around at the pile of bodies that were scattered at different angles, and then I saw Clara fighting against the man of beauty.

I watched Clara die as her head was detached from her body and my once-loving mate's heart, Gabriel, was uprooted from his chest by the white-faced man. Gabriel fell to the floor, and I could see blood pouring out of his chest. By the liter, the life that he had so much cherished was escaping from him.

My knees collapsed as my vision became blurry, my ears began ringing, and my brain was buzzing. Everything was happening all at once; the loud footsteps of the troops began to fade away, and my nails became black from clawing at the dirt beneath my knees.

I saw the white-faced man tightly holding onto my necklace, which was one of the things that I had cherished the most in my entire life. The pounding in my head increased tenfold as I stared at their disappearing feet, till my eyelids became heavy.

The Blood Moon pack became a sea of its own blood, but who was that man? That mysterious white-faced man had a beauty that one could kill for.

"Who was he? The man that drew blood on my behalf," I asked myself as my surroundings became dark.