Anya bolted upright, her chest rising and falling in rapid, uneven breaths. The dream still clung to her like a cold, damp mist—golden eyes watching her, silver gaze cutting through the darkness, and a voice that whispered something just beyond her understanding.

But the worst part wasn't the whispers.

It was the mirror.

Even now, the memory of her reflection—distorted, unnatural—sent a chill down her spine. It wasn't just a dream. It had felt too real.

She swallowed, trying to steady herself, but her throat was dry as sandpaper. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

A sharp knock at the door yanked her from her thoughts. The sound startled her, making her heart lurch against her ribs. She forced herself to take a deep breath, pressing a hand against her temple before sliding out of bed.

Her bare feet hit the wooden floor, cold and unforgiving. The room was still. Too still.

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before reaching for the door handle. The heavy wood creaked slightly as she pulled it open.

Lena stood on the other side, arms crossed, her dark brows raised in an unimpressed arch.

"You look like hell."

Anya exhaled a shaky breath. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

Lena snorted. "You missed breakfast. Again. You also screamed in your sleep. Again."

A pause.

"Want to talk about it?"

Anya opened her mouth, hesitated. What could she even say? That her own reflection had spoken to her? That she had seen a man with golden eyes in a dream that felt more like a warning?

She forced a small, dismissive shrug. "Just a bad dream. Nothing new."

Lena didn't look convinced, but she let it go. "Alright. But eat something before we head to the market. You know I don't like it when you skip meals."

Anya let out a soft groan. "Of course, wouldn't want to upset the great and powerful Lena."

Lena smirked. "Exactly. Now hurry up."

Anya grabbed her cloak and threw it on, grateful for something to shake off the lingering unease. Anything to get out of this room—away from the mirror.

By the time they arrived, the village square was already alive with movement. Vendors called out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and burning wood drifted through the air, and children weaved between the stalls, their laughter blending with the hum of morning chatter.

Anya tried to let the normalcy of it ground her, to drown out the weight of her thoughts in the familiar rhythm of village life.

But something still felt... off.

Her instincts pricked at her, a quiet warning at the back of her mind.

Then she saw him.

Golden eyes.

Her breath hitched.

He was standing near the blacksmith's stall, half in shadow, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Anya's stomach twisted.

No. No, this wasn't possible.

She blinked.

He was gone.

A cold sweat broke across her skin.

She turned to Lena, her voice barely above a whisper. "Did you see that?"

Lena frowned. "See what?"

Anya's fingers curled into the fabric of her cloak. Nothing.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

The dream hadn't just been a dream.

And whoever they were—they were already here.

Then—

The first arrow struck.

Anya barely had time to react before a sharp, searing pain exploded in her shoulder.

She staggered, a cry ripping from her throat as the force of the impact sent her crashing to the ground.

The marketplace erupted into chaos.

Screams. Shouts. The pounding of footsteps as villagers scattered in fear.

Anya gasped, dazed, her vision spinning as she tried to push herself up. Her shoulder burned. Her ears rang.

Then, out of the swirling panic, they emerged.

Shadows moving too fast—too inhumanly fast.

Wolves.

Not just any wolves. Namjoon's pack.

Anya had heard the whispers. The warnings.

Hunters who never let their prey escape.

And now—they were here.

For her.

"ANYA!" Lena's scream barely registered over the blood roaring in her ears.

A second figure lunged forward.

Anya twisted, trying to evade, but she was too slow, too wounded.

Strong hands slammed her down.

A sharp gasp left her lips as her head hit the dirt. Pinned. Trapped.

Golden eyes locked onto hers.

Her pulse stuttered.

His voice was calm. Too calm.

"Don't fight."

The weight of him, the quiet dominance in his voice, sent a fresh wave of fear through her.

"You belong to us now."

Anya thrashed, raw panic surging through her, but it was useless.

Then—pain.

Something heavy crashed against her skull.

The world blurred.

Then—darkness.

The first thing she noticed was the cold.

Damp stone pressed against her back, the scent of iron and earth thick in the air.

Her body ached, her shoulder burning where the arrow had pierced her flesh.

Chains rattled.

Anya stiffened.

Slowly, she forced herself upright, the heavy iron shackles biting into her wrists. The dim glow of torchlight flickered against the damp walls. A dungeon.

A presence stirred in the shadows.

Her breath caught.

A figure leaned against the bars, watching her.

Namjoon.

The golden eyes from her dreams—**the golden eyes from the market—**bore into her now, calm and unreadable.

He said nothing at first. Just watched.

Like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"You have no idea what you are, do you?"

Author's Note

Hey There!!!

My Lovely Readers ......

Let's kick of the beginning of  The Blood Moon Prophecy together. It's my first time writing a BTS FF in a werewolf theme, I do hope you enjoy it. Also, if anyone would like to share their inputs of what can i add to this story will be great. 

I'm also, so sorry for not updating regularly due to my work schedule will try to write atleast one chapter per week for you all.

Thank you so much in advance for reading.

Please do vote and leave your thoughts in the comment section and don't forget to vote.

Lots of Love

The Anime Writer