Rebirth Of The Rejected Luna Chapter 159: The Anomalies

**Tiana's POV**

"Yes," she answered. "But remember this first blood were immortals. They allowed werewolves and Lycans to shift at will but took away their immortality. They gave them packs but stripped them of the madness that made them gods of war. They softened them, tamed them.”

I let out a slow, shaky breath. “That’s insane.”

She tilted her head. “Is it?”

"But why did the gods create them in the first place?" I asked her. "If they knew they were going to rebel? What was even the purpose of creating them?"

"The gods wanted something they could care for," Cecilia said with a sigh. "They wanted people to feel emotions for, people to love and serve them."

"But they could have seen it coming... They are gods after all."

She said, a knowing look on her face. "A difficult question dear. But even we as men choose to ignore a predicted outcome when our subconscious wants to expect something else. And as you know, we are made in the likeness of the gods."

"So if we as werewolves do that, how much more the gods who created us."

"Exactly."

"The moon goddess though," I began. "Was she the one who created the first blood?"

"No. But she was the one who believed they did not need to be wiped out. She tamed them into Lycans and then wolves." Cecilia confirmed.

"That's why she's called the merciful," I murmured.

"Yes."

I rubbed my forehead. “So, you’re saying… deep down, we all still have some of that First Blood inside us? That they’re still part of us?”

Her gaze sharpened. “Their power has faded, but traces remain. Some bloodlines carry more of it than others. And sometimes… that power resurfaces.”

A chill slithered down my spine. “Resurfaces how?”

“Rogues.”

I stiffened.

She continued, her voice steady. “Some are merely lost wolves, but others… others are something worse. That is why when wolves are abandoned by their packs..." she trailed off for a bit. "Their minds are fractured. Their control is gone. The rage of the First Blood awakens in them, but without purpose—only madness.”

I swallowed hard. “So… rogues are like failed versions of the First Blood?”

Cecilia nodded. “Some. Not all. But there are those who are not just broken—they are remnants of what we used to be.”

I shuddered. “That’s terrifying.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “It should be.”

“So… if they’re not truly gone, what does that mean?” I asked her.

Cecilia stirred the fire with a stick, the glow highlighting the deep lines on her face. “It means there are still remnants of them left in the world, Tiana. Not just in our blood, but in those who refuse to fade away.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “You’re talking about the rogues again, aren’t you?”

She nodded slowly. “I've said this before, not all rogues are merely lost wolves. Some are something else entirely. Something worse.”

I frowned. “I don’t get it. If werewolves evolved from Lycans, and Lycans came from the First Blood, then shouldn’t all of us have the same… I don’t know, diluted essence? What makes certain rogues different?”

Cecilia sighed, staring into the flames like they held answers she was reluctant to give. “Most werewolves are what the moon goddess intended them to be—tamed. The madness of the First Blood was stripped away, their immortality severed, and their power dimmed. But every now and then…” She tapped the stick against the ground. “A spark reignites.”

I swallowed. “You mean some wolves… revert?”

Cecilia’s eyes met mine, sharp and knowing. “Not revert. Awaken.”

A lump formed in my throat. “That doesn’t make sense. You said the First Blood were hunted down. That they were wiped out.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That’s what history tells you.”

I waited my pulse thrumming in my ears. “And the truth?”

She exhaled, slow and steady. “The truth is, some survived.”

I blinked. “What?”

“They did not die, Tiana. Not all of them. Some were too strong, too clever. They knew the gods would turn against them, and the moon goddess wouldn't be able to help them anymore because they did not want to be tamed so they hid. They waited.”

My mind reeled. “Are you saying there are still pure-blooded First Blood wolves alive today?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stared into the fire, her silence heavier than words.

I felt my stomach twist. “Cecilia.”

Finally, she spoke. “No one knows for sure. But some believe that those who carry the strongest traces of their power… are being drawn to something.”

I frowned. “Drawn to what?”

She met my gaze. “To each other.”

A strange chill crawled up my spine. “You think the remnants of the First Blood are trying to come together?”

She nodded. “Throughout history, there have always been wolves born differently. Stronger. Wilder. Harder to control. The elders call them anomalies. I call them warnings.”

I bit my lip. “Warnings of what?”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That the First Bloods are trying to return.”

I barely breathed. “How?”

“By breeding,” she said simply. “By passing down what little power they have left until it grows strong enough to wake fully.”

I stared at her, horrified. “Are you saying they want to bring back the First Blood?”

Cecilia smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Not want, child. They are bringing them back.”

I felt a cold weight settle in my stomach. “And… and if they succeed?”

She sighed, tossing a handful of dried leaves into the fire. They crackled and sparked, sending tiny embers into the air like dying stars. “Then history will repeat itself.”

A long silence stretched between us. The fire popped softly, the only sound in the quiet night.

Finally, I forced myself to ask, “Have you ever… met one?”

Her fingers tightened around the stick she held. For the first time, she looked almost uncertain.

Then, finally, she nodded.

I sucked in a sharp breath. “Who?”