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Kaito stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Asher under the faint glow of the kitchen light. The wolf looked worn, shadows under his eyes, one hand curled around his phone, the other braced against the table where the old book lay open like a wound. He’d clearly been at it for hours. The edges of the parchment were darkened where Asher’s fingers had traced the same lines again and again, as if sheer focus could force the secrets to reveal themselves. Kaito stepped closer, the floor creaking softly under his bare feet. He glanced at the page, the curling symbols so familiar and so dangerous that his pulse gave a faint kick. “I’ve managed to translate a bit more than you’ve seen,” he said, his voice quieter now. “The book doesn’t talk about creation so much as… separation. It says that once, the Moon’s light was shared between two vessels, one that held its power in spirit, the other in blood. The mages became the Moonlits, the spirit keepers. The wolves, the blood-bearers.” A moment of silence fell between them before Kaito continued. “Back then, there wasn’t a divide. The goddess, Lunara, before she became myth, made them as halves of one order. Magic and instinct working together. But somewhere along the way, both sides forgot that. The Moonlits thought the wolves were beasts who’d lost her grace. The wolves believed the Moonlits had stolen it. And so they turned on each other.” Kaito reached out, brushing his fingers along the faded script. The runes pulsed faintly under his touch, responding not with magic, there could be none here, but with memory, as if the parchment itself remembered what he was saying. “It says the balance broke when pride took root,” Kaito continued softly. “Neither side believed the other strong enough to guard the goddess’s legacy. And that’s when a prophecy appeared. A single line, written in the oldest tongue.” Kaito looked at Asher before he spoke again. "I havent translate it to you before because I wasn’t sure what it meant until now. And because I knew you wouldn’t like it". He took a breath, meeting Asher’s eyes. “It says: ‘When moonlight walks in flesh and blood, the divide will close, and the world will tremble anew.’” “A hybrid. Someone born of both lineages—part wolf, part magus. A living balance between instinct and magic.” He paused. “Someone like that could end the feud. Or destroy everything holding it together”, Kaito said, his voice quiet but firm. “The Moonlits would never accept that a wolf could carry the goddess’s light in their blood. And the packs… well, you’ve seen how they react to anything even close to magic. Even you...” his voice was a mere whisper at the end. He glanced at the book again. The runes almost seemed to shimmer under the lamplight, as if the truth had been waiting for someone willing to see it. “It’s not about power,” he murmured. “It’s about fear. Wolves fear what they don’t understand. Mages fear what they can’t control. A hybrid would make both irrelevant. That’s what they’re afraid of,” his gaze drifting to the window. The city outside was still, but his mind wasn’t. The words he’d translated wouldn’t leave him. And the way Asher’s eyes caught the moonlight—how the runes always reacted when he was near—made Kaito wonder if maybe the reason wasn’t just written in the book. Maybe it was sitting right across from him.

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When his thumb brushed along the line of Fang’s jaw, Sora felt the faint tremor of his own fingers. Sora thought he was good at pretending. Pretending to be unaffected, pretending that the flutter in his chest was just adrenaline. Yet now, standing like this, caught between the steady rhythm of his breathing and the fire in Fang’s eyes, the act was slipping. He felt the shift before he could react — strong hands moving, the sudden weightlessness that made his stomach twist. In one smooth motion he was lifted, legs instinctively wrapping around Fang’s waist as the world tilted around them. For a second, Sora’s breath hitched. His hands clutched at Fang’s shoulders, not in fear but in disbelief. No one had ever handled him like Fang, with raw passion and need to have him as close as possible. And then the distance between them vanished in that moment completely. He could feel the other erection pressing into him and it was hard for Sora to sit still and not squirm against him. The thought alone sent a rush through him, heat flooding his face as his pulse raced. His lips found the familiar pull of a kiss that left his thoughts in pieces. Every time their lips met, it was the same — an unspoken challenge, and him fighting just a bit before surrendering under Fang’s dominance. Yet Fang was allowing him some leeway of control and Sora wasn’t shy to ignore the free pass. Sora could taste the edge of danger, feel it make his heart skip and his mind go blank. Every nerve in his body seemed to drink in Fang’s presence, as if he had been starved for it. When he kissed Fang, it was urgent and tender all at once, a silent attempt to make up for lost time. Kissing him like he owned him for months of neglect. He looked up, meeting Fang’s gaze, and shivered as Fang moved and sat back on the couch, Fang drew Sora closer, and Sora bent his knees, their bodies aligning in a quiet intimate rhythm. He moaned into the kiss as he himself rubbing against Fang’s hard erection with his own weight this time. Sora’s cheek were flashing a deep pink as his own cock was throbbing. His skin felt hot and he just wanted to take off his clothes off. Sora’s fingers clenched on Fang’s clothes just as Fang’s hands got bold and went under his shirt. He shiver slightly as Fang big hands caressing his body. The human squirmed him delighted. His hips couldn’t even stay still, they jerked gently back and forth against Fang’s crotch. Sora could only think how good it felt, feeling Fang against him. Although inside this wasn’t enough. Sora breathing was raw and heavy. His tongue slowly grew lazy when he focused on the other parts that felt good as well. When Fang suddenly pinched his nipple, a startled, embarrassing sound escaped him before he could stop it. Instinctively, Sora caught Fang’s hand in his own. A silent warning, a shaky attempt at control. But he didn’t pull him away. He didn’t want it to stop When Fang did pull free from their kiss. Sora’s breathing was raw and uneven — shallow, desperate Fang’s hand came up, hovering in front of Sora’s mouth as if make a barrier between them, but Sora’s warm breath still slipped through his fingers. The look Fang gave him was dangerous — hungry in a way that sent a shiver crawling down Sora’s spine. Sora’s own eyes were glazed, dark and liquid, locked onto Fang’s with an intensity that was almost feverish. He looked consumed — caught somewhere between awareness and surrender, desire making his focus waver and blurry. He didn’t want it any less than Fang did… and yet— [" If we keep going...I won't be able to stop.."] Sora forced himself to break eye contact, lashes lowering as he shut his eyes. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to — far from it — but this wasn’t the place. His chest rose and fell unevenly, breath still refusing to steady as he tried to speak. “We can’t… not here. Ray—he…” The words came out fractured, tangled between desire and reason. Reality was quick to intrude. This was Ray’s place. The thought hit him like a splash of cold water. Ray would know — he’d smell it in the air if they lost control here. And the idea of anyone walking in on them, made Sora’s skin prickle. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to move. His hand slid between them, gently pushing Fang’s aside. The touch wasn’t rejection, just a pause. Leaning close, Sora’s lips brushed Fang’s ear, his voice a low whisper that trembled despite his effort to sound calm. “I’m not saying no… just wait. Until we get home.” His breath ghosted warm against Fang’s skin, the last exhale tapering off into a small, restrained sigh — the kind that carried the weight of wanting but refusing to give in. His heartbeat was still wild, but beneath the restraint, a promise lingered.