Blurb：
Sixteen-year-old Vera Moonlock survives the imperial capital’s slums by wit and stealth. But when a drunken Gamma soldier targets an innocent child named Gavriel, her dormant psychic power erupts in a flash of fury. Branded the dream witch, she is dragged to the feared Judgment Tower, where the empire confines its most dangerous Alphas. There, she meets the legendary Mad Wolf King, Lucien Thornehart, whose mind teeters on the brink of madness. Bound by necessity and a fragile pact woven in the dream plain, they shatter their chains and ignite a rebellion under the rising Blood Moon.
From the Howling Spire to the storm-lashed heights of Skyforge Citadel, Vera and Lucien must master their mismatched gifts: her star-blood dreamcraft and his feral alpha wrath. As they breach iron gates, outwit psionic dampeners, and rally hybrids and humans alike, they discover the true enemy is not a single tyrant but the systemic fear that binds them all. In a final reckoning on a frozen lake, they redeem a fallen prince, unite former foes in the Constellation Accord, and found Ember Tower Academy—where the next generation will learn to guard freedom with fang and dream.
This epic saga of power, mercy, and unbreakable bonds forged in shared nightmares begins with Chapter 1: Ashes and Orphans. Vera crouches in the ruined Riverside chapel, sifting through candle embers, protecting a mute boy from hunger and danger. When a Gamma soldier threatens Gavriel, her hidden power awakens, blurring the line between waking and dreaming as a black wolf with onyx eyes appears in a silver-lit plane.
Content：
Sixteen-year-old Vera Moonlock has survived the slums of the imperial capital by wit and stealthbut when a drunken soldier targets an innocent child, her dormant power erupts in a flash of psychic fury. Branded the dream witch, shes dragged to the feared Judgment Tower, where the empire confines its most dangerous Alphas. There she meets Lucien Thornehart, the legendary Mad Wolf King, whose mind teeters on the brink of madness. Bound by necessityand a fragile pact woven in the dream plainthey shatter their chains and ignite a rebellion under the rising Blood Moon.
From the Howling Spire to the storm-lashed heights of Skyforge Citadel, Vera and Lucien must master their mismatched gifts: her star-blood dreamcraft and his feral alpha wrath. As they breach iron gates, outwit psionic dampeners, and rally hybrids and humans alike, they discover that the true enemy is not a single tyrant but the systemic fear that binds them all. In a final reckoning on a frozen lake, they redeem a fallen prince, unite former foes in the Constellation Accord, and found Ember Tower Academywhere the next generation will learn to guard freedom with fang and dream.
*Dream Sovereign: Chronicles of the Blood Moon* is an epic saga of power, mercy, and the unbreakable bonds forged in shared nightmares.
Chapter 1: Ashes and Orphans
Vera Moonlock crouched beside the cold stone hearth, her fingers sifting through a handful of candle embers. The Riverside chapel lay in ruinsa dozen shuttered pews, a collapsed roof beam, and a single brazier someone had left burning. She fed the embers one brittle scrap of wood at a time until a flicker of flame caught, then coaxed it to life. Above her, the night wind rattled broken window frames; below, rats scurried through charred floorboards.
Anything to eat? she murmured, voice raspy as smoke.
No, a boys whisper answered. He huddled against the wall, arms wrapped around a ragged cloak. Eyesone swollen shuttracked Veras every move. The child was mute, but his hunger spoke plainly. Day after day shed stolen scraps for him. Tonight, nothing.
From the alley beyond the collapsed altar came footsteps: heavy, unsteady. A mans stagger, the rattle of armor. Veras heart thumpedsoldiers meant trouble. She rose, straightened her patched cloak.
Get inside, she hissed to the boy. His dark eyes flicked toward her, but he obeyed.
Vera slipped outside, chest tight. A Gamma soldierarmored breastplate dented, gloves stainedloomed over a smaller, hooded figure. The childs hood fell back, revealing a pale face and wide, terrified eyes. Vera recognized him: Gavriel, whod slept in the abandoned granary. The soldiers gauntlet closed around the boys shoulder. A cruel grin under his helm.
Quiet, brat, he slurred. Imperial business.
Let him go, Vera called, stepping into the moonlight.
The soldiers head snapped up. He staggered forward. Who
Your business isnt with children, she said, voice low but steady. Youll get what you came for elsewhere.
He snorted, then shoved Gavriel against the chapels carved stone fa?ade. Gavriel gasped, stumbled, knees scraping brick. The Gamma laughed. Save your breath, girl. This ones reserved for the Inquisition.
Veras stomach twisted. No ones reserved for anything, she spat, sliding one hand toward her belt. There, hidden beneath fabric, was her mothers silver daggertoo heavy to hide long, but enough for surprise.
Step away, the soldier growled, raising a hand. Gavriel whimpered, clutching the fringe of his hood.
Veras pulse hammered. She weighed her chances: solaaloneagainst him. Her hand hovered over the daggers hilt. Her other hand itched with power she barely understooda dream-born ability, untested.
Go on, the Gamma soldier sneered. Touch me, and he bleeds.
Then something snapped inside Vera: the ragged line between waking and dreaming blurred. In her mind, she slipped into a silver-lit planean endless twilight sky dusted with starlight. A black wolf knelt before her, its eyes gleaming like onyx. She felt the wolfs breath, warm and urgent.
Back in the alley, the soldiers helm rattled. He stumbled backward, as though the air itself had struck him.
What? he sputtered, staggered.
Veras voice echoed in her mind rather than her throat. Release him.
The wolfs coat rippled, and back on the street, the soldier pitched forward, face ashen, eyes rolling. He clutched his headthen collapsed onto one knee. Gavriel scrambled free, eyes wide.
Vera blinked, suddenly herself again. She hadnt meant to use the dagger. Her heart poundedher power was real, and it terrified her.
Footsteps thundered from the alley entrance. Torches glowed against stone walls. More Gamma soldiers, drawn by the commotion, spilled into the chapel courtyard.
Seize her! one barked. The witch does it again!
Vera grabbed Gavriels arm. Run! she hissed. He hesitated, then darted past the fallen soldier, toward a smashed side door. Vera took a single step after himand halted. Her gaze flicked down to her throat, where a crescent-shaped scar lay just above her collarbone. Cold and tender, it prickled like an accusation.
Wheres your voice, little witch? a guard sneered, sword tip sweeping near her cheek.
Vera pressed her back against the chapel wall, reaching behind to snag her dagger. Gavriel slipped inside; the side door slammed. Darkness swallowed him.
She squared her shoulders. I dont have one, she whisperedharder than she felt.
She lunged, drawing the dagger in a flash of steel. Guards startled, stepping back. The one with the sword lunged; she sidestepped, disarming him with a deft twist. Metal clanged.
But more guards advanced. Torchlight glinted on breastplates. Vera backed away, pressed to broken pews. No narrow escape this time.
A shout from the chapel stepsanother soldier hurled a net of suppressor chains. It flew, snapping tight around her legs. Vera yanked at it; the chains hissed, biting into her skin.
Dream witch, they jeered. Youre ours.
She struggled, tugged, but the metal resisted. A guard kicked her shoulder; she toppled onto her back. Dazed, she closed her eyes, drawing breath. They hurt.
Inside her mind, the wolf waited.
Outside, under the watchful gaze of a hundred orphaned shadows, Vera inhaled. Her fingers curved, brushed the coarse stone near the brazier. Ash rose in a tiny swirl around her palm.
The wolf within stirred. Vera clenched her teeth against the pain behind her eyes.
Dont fight, she breathed. Just let it flow.
She touched the ashes. A flashand guards jerked back as though struck by gusts of wind. One guards helm cracked; another fell unconscious, clutching his helmet. The crow of chaos rose.
Guards screamed orders. Chains rattled. Vera, half-blinded by pain, forced herself to stand. The wolfs breath filled her lungs. She turned and sprinted through the broken door, hearing shouts behind her. Stone corridors, a flash of torch, another collapsed guard. She vanished into the night.
—
Sheltered at last in the chapels inner sanctum, Vera collapsed against a shattered altar. Gavriel knelt beside her, hands trembling as he tried to bandage her scraped knees with a scrap of cloth.
Are you hurt? he managed.
Vera closed her eyes. Nothing a nights sleep cant mend, she rasped.
He frowned, glancing at her throat. Your scar
Not healing, she cut in softly. It never heals.
Outside, the night sky flared. Vera forced herself to look up through the gaping roof. Violet comets streaked overhead, trailing glittering tails. Light spilled into the chapel like blood across stone.
A distant horn soundedimperial, majestic. Veras chest tightened. Shed heard rumors: the High Inquisitor was signing something tonight. Something dark.
She reached for Gavriels hand. Help me rest, she whispered. I need to dream.
He nodded, wrapping his cloak around her shoulders. Vera leaned back against cold marble, eyes heavy. Above her, the chapel walls groaned as if sighing.
In sleep, Vera drifted back to the silver plain. The black wolf stood, tall and proud, beneath a sky swirling with violet comets.
You have a name, it rumbled.
She remembered the tremor in the alley, the soldiers fear. Vera Moonlock.
It inclined its head. Then be ready, Vera Moonlock. The edict is sealed. Blood and ash will rise.
Vera reached to touch its flank, but the plain dissolved as violet comets flashed overheadEarths dream bleeding into hers.
She woke to dawns gray light filtering through broken glass. Outside, campfires flickered at the chapel entrance. Guards gathered, steel at their sides. The doors would break soon.
Vera Moonlock stood, hand on her dagger. Ashes and orphanswhere would she run? The edict was signed, the purge unleashed. And somewhere, beyond door and dream, the High Inquisitors pen dripped ink the color of comet tails. The real hunt had begun.
Chapter 2: Echoes of Starblood
Vera pressed her back into the cold stone wall of the chapels ruined nave, each breath ripping at her lungs. Dawns pale light slanted across broken pews. Outside, shackled feet scraped on flagstones. The net of suppressor chains that bound her rattled whenever she dared to shift. Shed fled deeper into the chapel, cursing herself for dragging Gavriel into thisbut the boys silent faith gave her strength.
A heavy boot crunched on rubble. A Gamma captains armored form filled the doorway. He beckoned two guards forward. Bring her here, he ordered, voice like gravel. The Inquisitor wants proof of her abilities. Were to drag her before the Judgment Tower within the hour.
Veras pulse hammered. Youll kill him, she croaked, nodding toward Gavriel huddled behind a collapsed pulpit.
The captains helm tilted. Thats collateral. Move.
One guard stepped forward, yanking the suppressor chain. Pain flared in Veras wrists. She sucked in air, forced herself to meet the captains gaze. You dont understand. If I use my power again
The captain grunted. Convince me or Ill have the hounds tear you apart.
Veras fingers curled around the chain links. Memories flickered: the soldier in the alley, his mind rent by her unbidden command; her untested gift leaving her trembling. Now they threatened Gavriels life, and she could notwould notlet that happen.
Fine, she whispered. Watch.
She shrank her focus, choking back the wolfs hunger in her veins. The suppressor cuffs burned with wolfsbanes sedative heat, dulling her senses. Yet beneath the pain, a spark remained. Vera summoned itfragile, like ember caught in spilled oiland reached through her haze. She projected an image into the captains mind: a vision of himself kneeling before faceless inquisitors, his own suppressed rage twisting into a black swirl that devoured them one by one.
The captain froze, hand on his sword hilt. His eyes went wide behind the visor slit. What?
Veras voice was steady. You feel it, dont you? That pulse beneath your ribs, that yearning to break free. Imagine if it ripped through your mind, unbound.
The captain stiffened, pressing a gauntleted fist to his temple. Guards glanced at each other. The captain inhaled, staggered backward. Inquisitors orders he muttered, voice shaking.
Vera risked a glance at Gavriel, who crouched, knuckles white. The boys black eyes brimmed with hope.
Enough, the captain snapped, forcing himself upright. Take her. And ensure the boy stays alivefor interrogation.
The guards jerked the net tighter, jaws clenched. Vera let them drag her across broken stones and collapsed pews, past the braziers remnants, out onto the dew-slick courtyard. Gavriel stumbled behind, bound by soft cord.
Outside the chapel, six chained ox-carts stood ready. Iron bars caged each. In the first, prisoners lay groaning. In the last, an iron box sat emptyintended for Vera. She felt a surge of dread.
Youll ride in the iron box, the captain informed her. No dreams will pierce its walls.
Veras heart pounded. That box has no ventilation, she said. Ill suffocate.
A cold laugh. Then youre welcome to try.
They shackled her ankles and wrists, then forced her into the box. Inside, stone-cold air settled. The lid slammed; bolts clanked. Through narrow slits at eye level she glimpsed Gavriels frightened silhouette, then the chapels towers receded.
The cart jolted forward. Vera pressed her cheek to stone, feeling the world shudder beneath. Her heartbeat thrummed like war drums. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath. Memoriessnatches of silver plain, black wolf, her daggers cold weightswirled behind her eyelids.
All at once, the box vibrated. Vera gasped, caught between panic and curiosity. The metal walls seemed to hum with psychic resonance. She realized suppressor chains might dull her gift, but the iron boxdesigned to keep her power sealedhad instead amplified her bond with the dream plain.
Her throat tightened. The violet sky of the plain bled into her mind. A single phrase echoed: *Starblood awakens.*
Heart pounding, Vera forced herself to focus. She carved a mental anchora tiny knot of conscious willamid the humming vibrations. Within the darkness, she perceived a distant silhouette: the black wolf, standing atop shattered moonstone pillars, eyes fixed on her.
A voice, softer than wind: You cant hide your blood, Vera Moonlock. Not from them. Not from me.
Her chest tightened. Desperate, she anchored deeper: *Not from me,* she whispered in the void.
At that moment, the boxs lid rattled. Light flared through cracks. Guards shouted. Water splashed. The ox-cart staggered to a halt. Veras chain rattled as two soldiers forced the lid open. She squinted against daylight. They yanked her out and dragged her across a muddy road toward the distant silhouette of the Judgment Towerspire of black iron rising like a beasts fang against dawns sky.
The roads air smelled of brimstone and rain. Thunderclouds churned overhead. Each step toward the tower felt like walking into a furnace of expectation. Guards hurled her into a damp intake cell at the base of the spire. The heavy door slammed; the thud echoed like a death knell.
She lay on the cold floor, chains clinking. Through the iron grate she saw the courtyards morning bustle: Inquisitor acolytes in robes of obsidian glossed by rain, crews tending to siege engines, and oxen stamping in mud. A distant horn bellowedsummoning all to bear witness to the Starfall purge.
Vera struggled upright. Her wrists burned where the wolfsbane cuffs bit into flesh. She touched the crescent scar on her throat, now throbbing red with vulnerability. The dream plain beckoned, but the suppressor chain and iron walls fought her. Still, the wolfs echo pulsed in her veins.
She drew a ragged breath and forced her lips to part. A rasp of air. Then a whisperdry as autumn leaves: Starblood.
The word spilled into the cell. A guard outside froze. A crackle of psychic energytoo faint for most, but a tremor of forbidden power. The guards shoulders shuddered, as though struck by a silent gale, and he stumbled back from the bars.
Inside the cell, Vera leaned against the wall, chest heaving. She had announced herself to the towerand to everyone beyond. The echo of her power would ripple outward; the Inquisitors edict already signed. They had ordered her execution. Now she stood at the threshold of a prison built for the empires deadliest Alphas.
A single tear traced her cheek. Her dream ability had named herStarblood heiressbut she had no map, no allies, and no plan. Only the wolfs promise: cages forged for Alphas crumble before the Blood Moon.
Vera closed her eyes, steeling herself. Then let the echo grow, she vowed, voice barely audible. Let them come.
Footsteps approached. The cells iron door grated open. A gaunt clerk in ink-stained robes hovered, quill poised. He glanced at her suppressor chains, scrawled SM-1 on a leather tag, then secured it to her wrist. He studied her face, eyes flicking between her scar and her trembling lips.
Subject SM-1, he intoned, voice flat. Processed.
He locked the cage from outside. The clang of metal echoed. Vera remained still, a heartbeat away from collapseand a heartbeat away from awakening something far more monstrous. The Judgment Tower would test her, but the eclipse approached. Soon, she would need allies within these wallsif she hoped to survive the coming purge.
And in the dream plain, the black wolf waited, its crimson eyes reflecting her fear and her destiny. The echo of Starblood had begun.
Chapter 3: Shackles of the Tower
Veras fingers tightened around the cold iron bars of her intake cell. The damp stone floor seeped through her thin leggings, and every gust of wind rattled the barred window high above. She rose on shaking legs as the cell door clanged open. Two Inquisitor guards stood at attention, their pauldrons glittering with obsidian sigils.
Subject SM-1, one guard intoned. You will follow.
He jangled her chains; the suppressor cuffs bit into her wrists. Vera swallowed hard but forced herself to meet his gaze. Where are you taking me? she rasped.
The second guard snapped his gauntlet-clad hand toward a corridor. Registration wing. Prepare for imprinting.
Vera dragged in a breath. Imprinting? Her voice came out brittle, as if scooped from wet ash.
Documenting psychic signature. The guards helm tilted. Stand still.
They led her down a narrow hallway lined with iron doors, each marked with gradually increasing designations: SM-2, SM-3, SM-4 A distant chorus of anguished howls and anguished prayers echoed through the corridors, punctuated by the occasional snap of suppressor chains.
At the end of the hall, a low archway opened into a vaulted chamber lit by phosphorescent moss. A gaunt clerk presided over a stone slab, quill in hand and a vat of silver ink at his side. Across from him, two Alpha prisonersmuscular men in thick leather jacketswere being branded with number-stamped collars. Their snarls ricocheted off the walls.
Vera was pushed forward. The clerk glanced up, ink dripping from his quill tip. Subject SM-1, he repeated, voice flat as a tombstone. Step onto the slab.
Her boots clanged against the raised surface. She looked down at the slate-gray stone, etched with archaic runes that pulsed faintly. She raised her chin. Will there be witnesses?
The clerks ink-black eyes flicked over her. Only those required by procedure. He gestured to a guard. Remove her cuffs.
The guards unlocked the suppressor chains. Vera inhaled sharply as the wolfsbanes sting faded and warmth returned to her wrists. She flexed her fingers, feeling the hum of forbidden power beneath her skin.
A resonant gong sounded. The two Alpha prisoners lunged at the guard holding their collars, thrashing and roaringwolf howls echoing through their throats. The guard slammed a heavy baton; the men collapsed, convulsing as their collars bit into their necks. Silver filaments fused into their sinew beneath the crystal disks, sealing their psychic output.
Veras breath caught. The collars were a cruel merger of magic and machine: each Alphas mind throttled to a torturous whisper of its former roar. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
One at a time, the clerk murmured, nodding to a pair of acolytes. SM-1 first.
Vera swallowed, stepped beneath an array of crystalline nodes suspended from the vaulted ceiling. The acolytes affixed a delicate lattice of wires and sigils around her temples. One pressed a cool silvery mask against her face, forcing her eyelids closed with gentle but unyielding pressure.
Relax, a soft voice whispered through a tube. We only record.
Vera felt her pulse slow as her vision faded. Beyond her closed lids, dreamlights flickered. A familiar haze coalesced: violet comets, silver plains, and the black wolfs silhouette. She inhaled the dream world like sweet incense.
A spark of panic flared. This placethis prisonwas built to cage even Alpha minds. If she failed to control her gift under these dampeners, she risked shattering her psyche.
The crystalline nodes crackled. A tide of voices whispered at the edge of her mind: tortured Alphas crying for release, guards muttering prayers for deliverance, the distant toll of the high tower bell. The mask constricted, pressing shards of glass against her cheeks.
Beneath the pressure, Vera summoned her anchorthe knot of conscious will shed forged in the ox-cart. She envisioned a single star turning steadily in an inky sky. She held to that image, breathing in measured counts.
The dream plain shifted. The wolfs eyes glowed, but he bowed his head, acknowledging her control. A ribbon of starlight wrapped around her heart, grounding her.
A soft click echoed; the acolytes slipped off the mask and withdrew the wires. Vera blinked, vision clearing. A scroll materialized in the clerks hand, inscribed with her psychic signature in silvery script.
Imprint complete, the clerk announced. He scrawled Confirmed: Star-Sleep Hybrid beneath her file.
A guard stepped forward. Take her to the cell block.
Before Vera could respond, a booming voice halted the procession: Stop!
All heads turned to the heavy oaken doors. A knight in polished white armor strode in, the suns reprieve slanting across his triangular helm. His presence stilled the rooman unmistakable aura of command.
High Inquisitor Armand. The clerk bowed. I didnt expect
Armands gauntleted hand rose. I will oversee this personally. He approached Vera, helmet tucked under his arm. His hair was silver-white, eyes as pale as moon-touched frost.
Vera held her breath. The Inquisitors gaze probed her like ice through mist. So you are the girl who drew power from ash?
She swallowed. Yes, Your Grace.
Armand circled her, lips pursed. Your gift is a threat, and yet intriguing. He tapped the crystalline badge on her collar. I want to observe you more closely. Transfer her to the apex ward.
A murmur rippled around the chamber. The clerk looked doubtful. The apex ward is for high-risk Alphas. Shes never been violent
Yet, Armand finished. Subject SM-1 will join the Mad Wolf King himself. Prepare transit.
Without another word, Armand swept from the chamber. Guards scrambled, unlocking Veras cuffed ankles and affixing heavier manacles to her upper arms. The two Alpha prisoners snarled behind their bars as she passed, eyes blazing with silent fury.
Veras heart hammered. Apex wardwhere Lucien Thornehart was said to languish. The Mad Wolf King whose mind was fracturing with each lunar surge. She swallowed fear. Why me? she whispered to the guard beside her.
He shrugged, voice low: The Inquisitor wants proof you can bind the alpha. If you fail theyll feed you to him.
Veras breath caught. The idea of facing Lucienhalf-mad, razor-clawedsent a jolt of ice through her veins. But beyond terror lay another sensation: anticipation. Luciens mind had called to hers in the dream plainhe recognized her. Now the real test awaited.
They led her through the registration wing, past endless cells of whimpering Alpha prisoners. Guards at each door whispered warnings: SM-1, Star-Sleep taint. At the corridors end, a massive portcullis loomed, its iron teeth ready to clamp down. Beyond lay a spiraling stairwell carved into the towers core.
The guard shoved her through. Go on, he said. Show them what you can do.
The stairwell wound upward, the walls slick with moisture. Each landing brought a new guard post, symbol-etched torches guttering in the cold draft. Veras chains clanked with every step. She fought to steady her breathing.
Finally, the stair opened onto a circular gallery. Sigil-etched mirrors lined the walls, each reflecting fractured images of her bound form. At the gallerys center, two massive automatonstheir eyes glowing sapphirenudged her forward.
Through an arched doorway she saw him. Lucien Thornehart sat shackled atop a dais, chains thicker than her torso coiling around his waist and ankles. His silver hair tumbled over his shoulders, framing a blood-stained collar. He rocked back and forth, muttering verses in a guttural chant.
A subject, Lucien growled, eyes still unfocused. Another star-child come to scry my madness.
Veras breath caught. He glanced uphis red eyes snapping into clarity. For a heartbeat, the hall froze. He recited, voice cold and precise: Vera Moonlock. Recognition lingered on his tongue.
She staggered, gaze locking with his. You
He laughed: a single, deranged note that rattled the mirrors. You dreamed me, child. You called me.
Avant-garde guards at the door stiffened. Lucien raised a gauntleted hand; the automatons recoiled as though struck by thunder. Four torches guttered and relit themselves in his presence alone.
The gallery watchmaster barked orders, but the door slammed shut before guards could reach it. Lucien slid from his dais in a fluid motion, chains rattling. He strode toward Veraevery step measured, powerful. She braced herself, hand instinctively reaching for the tether at her belt.
Do you know what they did to me? Lucien rasped, voice low, almost tender. How they caged my rage, burned my soul? And here you areblood like mine, unbroken.
Veras heart pounded. I didnt ask
He pressed closer. You will help me. Or you will break trying.
Behind them, the watchmaster pounded on the door. Lucien ignored the clamor. He studied her face, eyes searching for doubt.
Vera swallowed. Her throat scar pulsed. Ill help, she whispered. But on my terms.
Luciens grin was feral, fierce. Then speak, Star-Sleep. Let us begin.
In the apex of the Howling Spire, beneath mirror and moon, their fates intertwined. Silence fell as Vera steeled herself. The blood-chilling howl of distant Alphas echoed through the towers bones. And in that moment, shackles and chains felt less like prisonand more like the forge where something new would be born.
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