Many believe our world to be devoid of magic. They believe the accounts of mages, vampires and werewolves to be simple fantasy and superstition. It’s funny how the scientists, with their high-tech equipment, can fail to see an entire secret population simply because it can’t be real. There was a time where we had to hide. Now? Now everything to do with our world is ignored or debunked by those who don’t even realize they're saving us from themselves. I’m grateful to them all.

Unfortunately, they don't necessarily leave us safe enough. I move silently through my territory as night falls, and recounting who I am, simply because stealth is second-nature to me. Not that I need to be moving, of course. I already know where the hunters will enter. And I know where they'll die as well. Besides, I always find reminiscing to be oddly amusing, though I am not sure whether the humor of the situation is more dark or more twisted.

My name is Wolf. I’m 22 years old, muscular with long black hair, a ginger beard and emerald green eyes. Not the weirdest combination about me, but still pretty weird. I’m also a mage. I am a contractor with the astral totem of the wolf, to be specific, and those traits carry over to my everyday life. I’m instinctive. I love my steaks Texas-rare (seasoned and warmed up before searing both sides, leaving the middle so deliciously bloody and tasty). Oh, and I can turn into a wolf under the moon, if I have enough power. Unfortunately, power is hard to come by in this world. Contracting, blood rituals, or sex rites are the only ways to refill your power beyond the slow trickle that you can draw in from the elements around you. Fortunately, I am a good contractor. There are powerful astral entities that are willing to forge a contract with me. I have an affinity to all canines and, strangely enough, to draconequus.

I am always training and working to become stronger, having Gods as your holders isn't an easy thing to live up to and I must always be ready for any commands they issue. Most of the astral beings I contract to are quest types. They tell me what to do for them and I do it. I get to keep any power left over from the assignment to keep healthy. One however is special. The great goddess Mystery, a high draconequus. She provides me with a daily flow of power on the terms that my mission is to train daily and become a Grand Master mage of the highest order. As I grow stronger, she provides a quest every now and then.

The power she gives me leaves me ‘running hot’. This is a state where your power is at an absolute capacity and is slowly bleeding off but also increasing your maximum capacity. The quests she gives me are usually simple, far too simple for the gift of power she gives me. Things like hunt down this human and turn into a wolf in front of him, leaving a bite mark on his arm. Or my favorite, where she had me dress in a superhero costume and use my power as a masked vigilante. I felt ridiculous and absolutely epic. I still get a smile every time I read an article about the legendary Anime Man.

I leave a trail of news stories and pondering citizens in my wake. Along with some seriously pissed of mages and a bounty pool I have more than once tried to figure out how to collect on. Last I checked it included several potent artifacts, 80 large bars of silver, and a nice pile of gems cut perfectly for arcane arts. I suspect that she does it partly for the fun of spreading chaotic mysteries and partly because she’s raising me for… Well something at least. If she wants to raise me to the highest level to be the perfect lapdog, then I am more than happy to serve my master well. She is my alpha and I am her loyal servant.

I have no delusions about not wanting to be a Goddess's plaything. After all, mortals in general are the playthings of the greater beings and which is better? A random toy that caught someone's eye, or a cherished toy that is top of the line and took a lot of work to acquire? Especially since it would take a lot less effort to fix me if I got broken than to get a new one. Don’t get me wrong and mistake me for some weak-willed wuss. I am far from it. The weak-willed are the ones who refuse to accept their status as a mortal.

Right now I am in my special area on my family’s private forest. To the ‘normal people’, this estate is owned by a rich and generally unknown investor and my family is supposed to be some sort of group of wilderness experts that assist him when he comes to ‘rough it’. In truth, my family is wealthy by normal standards, however, by the standards of mages we are lower class. Not that money amounts to much in our world. Most so-called High mages wouldn’t dream of setting foot in our territory.

If they get past all the defenses in the woods themselves, all they have to look forward to is a man blessed with the incredibly rare earth aspect who is capable of feats of immense magic, impossible levels of strength, endurance and resistance. I once saw a famous gun mage fight my father. I actually felt a little sorry for the poor bastard. His enchanted bullets left nothing more than bruises and small cuts on the 7 foot giant charging him with an enchanted war axe. At least it was over quickly, one swing separating the man’s head from his shoulders.

Not that my daddy is a bad guy. He raised us with all the love and care he had. He helped me master my powers and stood there taking painful injuries when my first full moon after puberty unlocked my primal powers. He just stood there smiling and blocking as I fought to gain control. In the end he just laughed and bandaged his arms and sides smiling and celebrating. I still remember walking over the hill, coming into view of the house in wolf form for the first time. He took a long draught of moonshine and hollered, “My boy’s growing up into a real man! Let’s have some fun and celebrate!” The party lasted into the night, a bonfire burning and plenty of booze. Wish I had been skilled enough in my wolf form to drink some. Oh well, parties are just as much fun sober and without being able to roast your own marshmallows. It’s a simple life in these woods, but it’s a life I’m grateful for.

School was annoying. I scraped by, doing perfect on tests but barely bothering with homework at all. I had more important things to do. Like training and trying to make a contract so I didn’t have to keep mooching off my parents. In the end, I never succeeded. Instead, She came to me. My sis and I were sitting next to our sparing pit, taking a rest as our uncle was lecturing us on needing to find our own personal approach to combat so he could teach us properly. He was a Grand Master of seventeen denominations of martial arts and was a genius at teaching and learning them.

She appeared in the pit where my blood had spilled. I recognized her immediately from my books on astral beings. A draconequus, a God of chaos. I bowed upon seeing her, causing my sister and teacher to be quite concerned. They wanted to know what I saw. When I told them, my uncle sent my sister into the house and was worried. “What does it want?” he asked.

“Tell him I am Mystery, a high Goddess and your new Master.”
His eyes went wide, “A chosen? At your age? It’s not unheard of in our family, but I always expected it of my son. You’ve never beaten him or shown any of the signs of greatness. Wolf astrals always end up as lapdogs or mercenaries.”

“Who says I don’t want a lapdog?” Mystery replied through me with a small chuckle that reminded me of a ringing bell. “Besides, your son will be nothing before his might in a mere two years. Begin teaching him the art of personification as well as a gentle style, a hard style, and a weapon style that focuses on staves. I will pay you now for all the effort you have and will invest in my future knight.” That was the first time I ever felt the feeling of running hot. I passed all the power into my uncle I could but in the end we were both left full.

He fulfilled his agreement to the best of my abilities. He taught me the gentle fist style Soul Reaver, an art designed to kill large groups with a single blow to each opponent. I mastered it well, learning the pressure points and anatomy based techniques very easily. I was less successful with the other styles, only reaching an adept level with weapons. My hard style, taijutsu, is the most lacking. I simply don’t have the personality compatible to learn hard styles. Personification, my main style for hand to hand combat, is essentially channeling the movements of a wolf into my fighting style while blending the other styles’ moves together. Together, however, they allow me a flexibility to handle whatever opponents life throws at me.

Many years of training and a thousand adventures have come to pass since that day. Now I’ve reached the age of the adept. My 22nd birthday was yesterday and I have retreated into the mountains for solitary training. It’s actually funny, in a way. Being twenty-two grants me the title of adept automatically. The funny part is that I’m known throughout the world as Prince of the Night, Sir Wolf, and Lord of Shadows. My official skill rank is beyond Master. It’s been a long time since I could even safely hug anyone besides my dad without being overly careful.

I stand in the meadow under the full moon, staring at my staff. It was a treasure the Wolf King led me to. He told me of its location in exchange for slaying a group of would-be poachers who were hunting his material kin. He was happy and very grateful that I lived up to his blessing without a contract. A contractor risking his life without hope of gain or potential for loss is a big thing, after all. My staff is ancient and unbreakable. I can hit a bear with enough force to send it flying away without so much as bending it. It is inlaid with silver runes and gems; a perfect conduit. I have been haunted ever since I was discovered to possess it, but it has been worth every fight. Especially considering I wouldn’t have won half of them without it, I think with some measure of chagrin.

I’m being hunted today as well. A group has entered the forest and declared me as their opponent. My father has his hands tied and I know it pisses him off. He cannot protect me anymore, now that I’m a full grown man. I twirl the staff and slip it into the slot on my backpack. The pack is enchanted to hold a lot more than it should, and reduces the weight of the contents dramatically. In short, it’s bigger on the inside. The slot for the staff lets me store its entire length within for easy removal. I sniff the air. They knew they wouldn’t find me in the day, but also that I wouldn’t risk letting the night go to waste. They entered as dusk. I find them and begin deciphering their scents from downwind.

An alchemist, something to do with electricity, and a mage that reeks of the undead assault my nose. The rest seem normal and from what I can see are mere fodder. I spring into action, drawing a sword from my pack and driving it through the chest of the necromancer. I hate those who work with the dead. They are never easy opponents. Before they can recover, I spin with another blade at the one with the electric smell. Not fast enough, I note as they bristle with an electric shield that send me back at contact with it.

I spring to my feet and face them openly now. Unexpectedly, one of what I mistook as fodder is a gun mage. I dodge into the trees at the roar of his pistols firing behind me. He’s out of place in these woods. I smile and cast a simple spell of darkness over the area. I hear gasping and laugh out loud as steady, sure steps degenerate into awkward noisy shuffling. One remains silent and I cannot find their scent. I shift into wolf form to hunt them.

Hah, an assassin type was hidden among the fodder as well. Perhaps all the fodder are the types that are hard to detect the strength of. They stand in the tree above me sniffing gently and preparing to drop on me. As they fall I dart forward and make a sharp turn, clamping my teeth on my opponent’s throat. I call upon the blood ritual and drain his power into me. Bolstered by the small boost of power, I pick off the gunman and resume my hunt. They’ve stopped moving, and I sense them trying to counter the darkness spell. How silly. I’m a contractor, my spells are backed by a being they cannot even comprehend the power of. They call me The Lord of Shadows for a reason.

I circle the group, searching for a weakness. The alchemist is bent over the necromancer, shoving a potion down his throat. I know him! That’s Asmodeus, they say he can brew a potion powerful enough to bring the dead back to life, as long as the head is still intact. The lightning type has a barrier around all of them. I know her too, Aztkin, She’s a Cherokee Goddess of lightning. At least two on par with me in terms of infamy and power. Looks like the Law Guild decided to step it up. The unknown power ones have drawn wands and weapons. If I can get my jaws on Aztkin I can end this easily. However, the revival of the necromancer is worrisome. His face is hooded, and he must be incredibly powerful if Asmodeus is willing to lose a potion that takes two years to make on him. The unknown power ones are hard to judge, but I guess from the smell of fear they’re leaking, and the smell of piss from one of them, that they are actually fodder. Should I focus on the healer, the numbers, or the one who can actually exploit my weak element?

I decide on the healer. Kill him before I have more problems and he wastes the profits I intend to harvest from him. I wield the earthen armor spell and leap at the alchemist, going for his throat. I sense little power in him and don't waste my time taking it. A jerk of my head sends him on to the next life. The lightning mage throws a mighty bolt at me, leaving a small burn under the dirt and stone skin. I growl and drop the darkness spell, tearing through all the fodder in front of the lightning mage. She stares at me as the last of her comrades falls in front of her.

I can speak in this form, but my voice is gravely and growling. I make it more so and lock her eyes with the predators’ gaze. I drive my power home to force her to feel fear at the monster in front of her.

“Surrender. I will spare you. Attack. I will take your life. Do nothing. I will wait,” I finish with a menacing growl. I do hate to hurt women. I want her to run. I want her to believe hope is lost on this foolish attack. I want her to not force me to hurt her. I don’t intend on killing her, even if she attacks. If I could make friends with her, at least I would have somebody I could hug without breaking. I smile inwardly as she takes step back. She launches another bolt at me and flees, not looking back to see the results. I give chase. She hears me rocketing through the woods after her and when she trips I stop behind her.

“OK. What’s your deal anyways?” She asks as she stands. “You could have finished me there but left me alive. Why?”

“It’s not like you’ve hurt me much or threatened my family or anything unforgivable. I can choose whether I spare those foolish enough to challenge me. Besides…” I shift back into my human form and give her a smile. “It’s not like I’m some kind of wild animal or anything. Perhaps we can meet again under more favorable circumstances. We've risen high on the mountain of power, I doubt it’s only me who finds this desolation of battle and blood lonely.”

“I’ll leave this forest and never return. I never should have come.” She walks off and I leave her alone. She calls back, knowing I can hear, “Sorry, but I'm not into guys I can't control.” I sigh and keep walking. At least today was a little productive. I wonder what kind of loot I’ll get. I should have stayed in wolf form, it was foolish to leave a necromancer unattended.

When I return, the bodies have risen again and I recognize the seals on the necromancer’s chest around my blade. The final requiem of death. This spell animates all corpses in its area of effect. The corpses lock in on the one who cast the spell and taint the magic around them, effectively rendering any astral or divine abilities useless and doubling the cost of elemental spells. In short, it’s a spell that says, “I’m gonna die? OK, so I trade the last five seconds of my life to get rid of all 200 year of his.” It’s a perfect example of why I loathe necromancers.

The corpses attack me, and I draw my staff. I finish them off one by one slowly. I know this spell and it is designed to defeat my kind. They are directed by magic and stealth is impossible. Critical points are useless. All you can do is fight without astral strength boosts, immobilize the bodies, and burn them at double the cost. I finally finish them off, panting as blood drips from my wounds. I’ve been poisoned and it burns in my veins. I have won, and smile in victory. All I have to do now is crawl until I’m free of the taint zone and-

“OW. Forgot the bloody assassin…”

A blade enters my back. I whirl and knock down the final corpse. A jet of flame from my staff silences the assassin for good. It’s a golden blade enchanted to cut astral connections. I can’t regenerate now, even if I do get away from the taint. I drop to my knees. My vision grows dim as I look around. Well played, magic cops, well played indeed.

My vision clears suddenly, and I feel power coursing through me. I reach back and yank out the blade, sighing in relief as all my wounds close. Mystery appears before me.

“Come to say goodbye, Master? I know I’m dead and I know you're not allowed to revive me.”

“Hmm perhaps. Perhaps death is not the end of your life? Perhaps I know a loophole to revive you with? Perhaps I’ve come to kill you myself for falling for this trap, AGAIN!” She yells the last word in anger. I await her next move with baited breath. She smiles, “Well you're dead right.” Really? Puns are gonna be among the last things she says to me?

She continues with a small chuckle at my thoughts, “Once I start time again, you’ll fall down dead. Healthy, but still dead. I’m going to send you to a world with different rules. You’ll never see or hear from me again. All you know will be no more, and a minute in this reality will pass 100 years on this plane. Know that when you breathe your first breath, all that held onto you in this reality will have faded to dust. Gather your things. You have 27 minute remaining. Then I will send you, prepared or not.”

I move as fast as I can, looting everything I can from the corpses that survived the fire and then run to the house. I leave a note on the kitchen table. “Sorry guys, but I died. I took all of ‘em out with me first but that fricken necro got me with that stupid Requiem of Death. Mystery is sending me to another reality. She doesn't want me to just die, so She improvised. Grabbed all my stuff for the new world. Love you. Just think, I get to go on another epic adventure before I go on my final adventure. I’ll make sure I die an old man next time. I already did the whole dying as a true warrior and a man thing once. It hurts, and a Goddess makes jokes at your funeral. See you in the next life.”

I gather my things as fast as possible, but I am still running towards my meadow when I feel my body burning away. Dang, I had my stockpile of cider there. Everything goes all kinds of colors, some of which I don't have a name for. I puke and it sprawls out of my mouth, spiralling out and orbiting me. Disturbing. I land in the middle of a forest and fall to my knees. The vomit explodes out from me, hitting trees in its path. My last thought before I pass out is, “In the time it takes me to wake up. My entire family will have passed on. When I wake up there might not be a world at all.”

Suddenly, I am running through a strange forest in the dead of night. There is no wind, and all I can hear is my footsteps crunching quickly through the leaves. I encounter a headless horse. Nope, not the headless horseman that scared me as a child. Just a headless horse that comes up to my chest. It rears and whinneys in what I suspect to be intended as a scary way. I cock my head sideways at it, very much confused.

“Man, I must be really weak if this is all my brain can manage for a nightmare,” I tell it.

I hear a voice coming seemingly from all around me, “No, that is a Nightmare. They are fey who haunt dreams and feed on fear.”

“So it’s evil?” I ask the mysterious voice from beyond the fog.

“Very evil and very dangerous. Do not be afraid, I will protect… Wow.” She cuts off as I jump and plant my boot into its side as hard as I can. It goes sprawling and dissipates into a black mist.

“Bad demon. No food for you. Now go whine in a corner and think about what you’ve done.”

I hear giggling as a shape comes from the mists. An alicorn! I fall to my knees and bow before her. She has a dark coat and is immeasurably powerful. I sense the entire power of the night in her. She smells in a way that I can only describe as starlight, moondust and astral power. Her mane is flowing in a wind that doesn’t exist.

“Why do you kneel, visitor to this realm?”

“I am in the presence of a Goddess. This is how we pay our respects in the reality I am from.” I raise my head and look at her. She seems annoyed.

“Rise. If you insist on titles, I am a princess. Would you prefer to speak in the real world? I am interested in why you are here and why you seem to think I am a Goddess.”

“I died, and the draconequus I served sent me to this reality. It is against the rules of our universe to interfere in the death of a mortal. She could not stand to see me die and sent me here. I would enjoy speaking to you in real life indeed. Dream walking makes me dizzy, and I would hate to vomit in front of you.”

Her horn glows as an amused smile plays across her face. I awake to see her standing over me. I rise to my feet and look at the moon. It is full as well. It’s bigger and different than the one from home. I look down and behold the alicorn before me. She stands even with my chest and smiles up at me.

I speak first. “Alicorns are Goddesses in my reality. They are served by unicorns who fight for them and aid their champions and pegasi who carry messages to other gods and mortals. I like this place so far. The air is buzzing with power and feels so clean.” I look up, “The night is so beautiful here. I’ve never seen the stars so bright or the moon so clear. Everything is more colorful. I feel like running, or dancing.”

“Thank you, I do my best,” she replies. I gawk at her and she continues. “I am the princess of the night. I raise the moon at the end of each day, and lower it at dawn. My sister, Celestia, raises the sun. Your kind is nocturnal?”

“No, I’m just special. Most of my kind is afraid of the night, but I feel at home in it. My name is Wolf.” I hold out my hand feeling stupid for a moment until she takes it in her hoof and shakes it. Good, at least there are some common threads between our realities.

“You may call me Luna.”

Author's Note

Edited by the one and only Velvet Dash (You'll meet her later in her special cameo.)

Editor’s note: Though I know that this prologue has seemingly ended at an odd spot, we had to include a part of chapter one in the prologue in order to pass moderation. For some reason, the tag of “Human in Equestria” and speaking of being brought to a different reality was not enough of an obvious point to where this story would be immediately heading. So we are sorry for blending chapters, but we are excited to be releasing this first installment of Another Wolf’s Moon. Hope you enjoy! - Velvet Dash

Authors note: Remember this level of viciousness for when you meet her in the story. Velvet is my BFF, but even I don't get on her bad side that often. 0_0 Anyways I hope you enjoy this story I'll release whenever I get a chapter edited.

Ooh can I say something tooo?

Pinkie! How did you get in this note? You're not even in the story yet!