The May-coo Prophecy

This Prologue contains the ancient prophecy that frames the entire saga, read first.Thanks

This Prologue contains the ancient prophecy that frames the entire saga.
Please read this before Chapter 1 — it sets the emotional and spiritual foundation of Mia’s story.
Thank you so much for reading.

I’m gathering reader impressions as I move deeper into Book 2, so if anything here grabs you — or confuses you — I’d love to hear it. Thank you for reading.

The May-coo Prophecy
(A sacred legend passed down through the tribes and soulwalker packs.)

“When the blood moon bleeds into the light,
a heart shall rise to heal the broken packs.
Guard her path, for in saving her,
you save yourselves.”


— Words of the May-coo, Keeper of the First Moon



***


Prologue

The Legend of the Super Blood Wolf Moon

Listen, my friend, to the drumbeats and the sacred sounds of the ancestors. When the winter moon shone bright, the people gathered in a ring of holy dance and chant, circling the sacred fire that burned without end. It was tended by those who were called the keepers of light, for the fire belonged to everyone.

Messages rose with the smoke, carried into the dark like living prayer. Beneath the steady thrum of the great drums came the soft rattle of the water drum, its beads whispering with each shake, a sound as old as the people themselves. These tones called to the spirit within, echoing through bone and memory.

And sometimes, when the fire glowed bright and the distant drums answered across the land, the moon would listen and the wolves would howl. Then the lonely voice of the wood-flute would rise and drift among those who waited in stillness. In these moments, the elders told the stories handed down through generations.

They say such tales ended long ago, but the elders insisted the final verse had yet to be lived.

They spoke of healers and warriors called Maicoh, men of the wolf who lived in harmony with their tribes. These were spirit men, soulwalkers who lived in two skins. They were called Maicoh, spirit men of the wolf. In time, their name softened into May-coo, the first soulwalkers. Their tales passed from tongue to ear, fire to fire.

Outsiders dismissed them as fable, too wild to be believed. Historians called them myth. But to the tribes, and to the soulwalkers themselves, these stories became sacred. They endure as ancient memory, the whispered remembrance of a world that once knew the language of wolves.

But among all these ancient memories, one story was whispered with the greatest weight.

It was first spoken by a Maicoh whose name in the old tongue held many meanings: wolf, healer, one who walks between worlds. The May-coo were more than men. They were healers and peacemakers, guides of the dying and guardians of harmony. They restored balance, blessed the hunt, and brought wolves into their lodges as kin. Though they often lived apart, perhaps to protect their people from the wildness coiled within their souls, they remained bound by purpose and spirit.

It was under the Wolf-Moon, the first moon after the deep snow, that their strength was greatest. Some moons burned bright as bone; others blushed with blood. When the moon bled red, the elders said it marked great change for humankind and soulwalkers. For it was said that when the moon burned crimson, the end of balance drew near. But once in an age, the heavens would give a greater sign: a Super Blood Wolf-Moon, rare and fierce, when destiny itself would rise.

On that night, a Chosen One would be revealed. Anointed by blood and light, she would carry the gift to heal or to destroy, the gift to save her people from extinction or to see them fall into shadow forever. She would be called Power of the Moon.

They say that once in a great many winters, the sky itself remembers the ancient covenants of the wolves. When the moon grows swollen and bright, so near to Earth it seems to breathe above the treetops, it becomes what the ancients called the Wolf’s Lantern, for its light was said to guide spirits and stir the fates of those who watched beneath it. But when that moon is swallowed by shadow, and the Earth’s breath turns its light to crimson fire, the old ones say it becomes something far greater:
a night when heaven and earth touch,
and the spirits of both man and wolf are tested.

Science will call it coincidence, a celestial dance of orbits and light.
But those who still listen to the old songs know the truth.

The red is not from sunlight.
It is from sacrifice.

Wise Maicoh warned that darkness would rise again, a sickness of souls and greed that could bring the end of humankind and soulwalkers. Yet hope, he said, would come wrapped in blood and light. One child, born beneath the crimson moon, would bear the mark of the heart and the gift to restore the balance between the realms of man and wolf.

When the shadow crosses the moon, the veil between worlds grows thin. The air hums with the whispers of ancestors and lost souls. The blood-stained light marks the one chosen by the Creator Himself.

Every pack since has waited beneath this rare moon with awe and dread. They gather beneath its crimson eye, heads lifted toward the heavens, watching for signs:
a lightning strike on sacred ground,
a howl that echoes beyond the wind,
or the cry of a child born beneath the red light of destiny.

Some call it myth, told to soulwalker children, a bedtime story of a savior who will never come.
Others believe the covenant still holds.
That when this sacred moon rises again,
the Anointed One will come,
and the balance of the world will tremble once more.

They say the moon breathes deepest just before the wolves sing.

Some still whisper that the bloodline of the first Maicoh endures in secret, hidden from the world, waiting for the moon to call it home.

And now, as the Super Blood Wolf-Moon rises once more over the mountains of the East, the old prophecy stirs.

This is that story.
The story of one anointed beneath the crimson light.
The story of Miakoda, child of prophecy,
and the woman destined to change everything.

And so the story begins,
on a winter night when the heavens bled red
and the light of an ancient promise fell upon the mountains.

This is the opening of my supernatural romantic saga, Super Blood Wolf Moon: Legacy. I’d love to know what emotions it stirs and whether the pacing pulls you in.
Thank you for reading the book opening.

Your thoughts mean a lot at this stage. Even a few sentences help me understand how the story is landing. Thank you so much for taking the time to read.