-THE KING-
The grand hall of the Alpha King’s citadel was a testament to wolfkind’s strength and history. High vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate carvings of pack symbols loomed over Eldrin and Matthias as they approached the throne. The light of massive torches flickered across the polished stone floor, casting long shadows that seemed to move with a life of their own.
“You bring me grave news, I trust,” the King said, his voice deep and resonant, echoing through the chamber.
Eldrin stepped forward, his posture respectful but unyielding. “My King, the Shadowclaw Alpha, Rowen, has called a meeting of alphas. Nineteen are confirmed, all with questionable loyalties to the council and your rule.
The King sat on his throne, the weight of centuries etched into his stern features. His eyes, a striking mix of silver and blue, seemed to pierce through Eldrin and Matthias as they relayed their concerns. He listened intently, his expression grave, but there was something else—a flicker of emotion that he quickly masked.
When Matthias mentioned the rising tensions and the potential rebellion, the King’s jaw tightened, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne. “Shadowclaw has always been ambitious,” he said finally, his deep voice resonating through the chamber. “But this… this is bolder than even I expected.”
Eldrin hesitated, then added, “There’s more, Your Majesty. We’ve received whispers of a prophecy. Two white wolves… their presence has been noted within Shadowclaw’s territory.”
The King’s expression didn’t change, but his knuckles whitened against the wood of the throne. “they have arrived,” he said softly, his voice almost reverent. “The prophecy has always been a tale to many, but if there is truth to it… we must tread carefully.”
Matthias exchanged a glance with Eldrin. “Do you believe these white wolves could change what is coming?”
The King didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stood, his tall frame commanding the room. He turned away, gazing at the large tapestry depicting the first Alpha King. His voice, when it came, was quieter but no less authoritative. “If they are who I think they are… then the council must protect them. At all costs.”
Eldrin frowned, his curiosity piqued. “Do you know of them, Your Majesty?”
The King’s gaze lingered on the tapestry, his fingers brushing the edge of a silver ring on his right hand. “No,” he said simply, his tone final. “Not yet.”
The King’s golden eyes blazed suddenly with fury. “Those Alpha fools,” he growled, his wolf’s presence palpable in the room. “Do they not understand what they threaten? The balance we’ve fought to maintain? This is not just rebellion—it’s chaos. They do not know what they’ve set in motion”
Eldrin nodded solemnly. “Yes, we believe the meeting is a precursor to something larger. If left unchecked, they could amass enough power to challenge even your rule.”
Matthias exchanged a glance with Eldrin. “We have a young council member, Alaric, investigating. He has a sharp mind and strong instincts, though we’ve noted… peculiarities in his recent behaviour.”
The King arched a brow. “Peculiarities?”
Eldrin’s expression tightened. “He hears whispers, my King. He has not shared their nature, but they seem to drive him toward something.”
The King’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Whispers… the signs are definitely aligning. I will not wait for rebellion to reach my gates. Send word to our loyal packs. Strengthen the borders. And keep me informed of this Alaric. And watch for the white wolves…. guard them with your lives”
Matthias and Eldrin bowed deeply. “As you command, my King.”
-ALPHA-
The neutral meeting grounds were a stark contrast to the opulence of the King’s citadel. Situated in a vast clearing bordered by dense forest, the grounds were marked only by a stone circle that had long served as a gathering place for wolves of all ranks.
Rowen Shadowclaw stood at the centre, his presence dominating even among the gathered alphas. His tall frame and piercing eyes swept over the crowd as he waited for silence. Victor, his Gamma, stood slightly behind him, his posture relaxed but his eyes watchful.
The alphas gathered were a motley assortment—some hulking and imposing, others wiry and sharp-eyed. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to open defiance as they waited for Rowen to speak.
“This gathering,” Rowen began, his voice carrying effortlessly across the clearing, “is not merely a meeting. It is a call to arms.”
Murmurs rippled through the group, but Rowen continued, his tone unwavering. “The council has outlived its usefulness, “It shackles us with rules meant to weaken us. Wolves are meant to be strong, to lead, to fight—not to bow to bureaucrats and a king who’s forgotten the old ways.”
A grizzled Alpha near the front growled in agreement, his fists clenched. “They have forgotten what it means to lead.”
Rowen nodded, his gaze fierce. “Exactly. The council serves only themselves, and the King is no better. They fear strength because it threatens their control. But I say this—true strength cannot be silenced.”
Victor stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “We propose a new order. One where packs are led by those who earn their power, not those born into it. A world where strength decides leadership, not politics.”
Another Alpha, younger but no less fierce, raised his voice. “And what of the King? He won’t sit idly by while we dismantle his rule.”
Rowen’s lips curled into a predatory smile. “The King has grown comfortable behind his walls. We will remind him what it means to face wolves in their prime. But first, we solidify our ranks. Together, we are unstoppable.”
The alphas exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of uncertainty and intrigue. Rowen could see the wheels turning in their minds, the allure of power outweighing caution.
“What of the prophecy?” one Alpha asked, his voice wary. “The whispers speak of a change coming—a change that could break us or bind us.”
Rowen’s smile faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Prophecies are nothing but stories told to keep the weak in line. We make our own destiny. Do you stand with me?”
The clearing fell silent as the alphas considered his words. Slowly, one by one, they began to nod, their resolve hardening.
Rowen’s smile returned, his voice ringing with triumph. “The council thinks they’re untouchable, but we’ll prove them wrong. We’ll take back what’s ours. The packs will follow strength—not laws.”
As the alphas howled their agreement, Victor’s sharp eyes scanned the crowd. In the shadows, a lone figure slipped away silently, their presence unnoticed by all but him. His jaw tightened slightly, but he said nothing, his focus returning to the rising tide of rebellion.
-ALARIC-
Alaric crouched low in the underbrush, his sharp blue eyes scanning the clearing ahead. The moon hung heavy in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows over the gathered alphas. The whispers had led him here, pulling him toward Shadowclaw’s packlands with an urgency he couldn’t explain.
He’d followed them, half in defiance of his own disbelief, half compelled by the growing unease surrounding the Shadowclaw Alpha’s plans. Now, as he watched the gathering unfold, the whispers were silent. It was as if they were waiting, watching with him.
Rowen Shadowclaw stood at the centre of the gathering, his dark figure commanding attention. Alaric studied him carefully, noting the way his words swayed the others, how his presence dominated the space. This was no casual meeting of allies; this was the beginning of something far more dangerous.
“The council has outlived its usefulness,” Rowen growled, his voice carrying easily across the clearing. “It shackles us with rules meant to weaken us. Wolves are meant to be strong, to lead, to fight—not to bow to bureaucrats and a king who’s forgotten the old ways.”
A ripple of agreement ran through the gathered alphas, their growls rumbling in unison. Alaric’s jaw tightened as he recognised some of the faces: alphas known for their defiance, their longing for a return to the blood-soaked days of dominance battles and unchecked power.
Rowen gestured to Victor, his gamma, who stepped forward with a sly grin. “We’re not alone in this,” Victor said smoothly. “More will come. The council’s grip is weakening. Together, we can break it completely.”
The alphas growled their approval, and Alaric’s chest tightened. He’d known Shadowclaw was gathering support, but the sheer number of alphas here, united in their hatred of the council, was alarming. This wasn’t just a rebellion brewing—it was an outright war.
He shifted slightly, the faint tingling on his wrist drawing his attention. Glancing down, Alaric frowned at the faint band of colour encircling his skin. It hadn’t been there before, not until he’d arrived in Shadowclaw territory. It didn’t hurt, but its presence was unsettling. He rubbed at it absently, as if the motion might erase it.
“What are you?” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
The whispers returned, faint and fragmented: Protect the balance. Follow the path.
Alaric froze, his breath catching. The words were clearer than ever before, their meaning tantalisingly close yet still out of reach. He shook his head, trying to focus on the scene before him.
Rowen’s voice rang out again, pulling Alaric back to the present. “The council thinks they’re untouchable, but we’ll prove them wrong. We’ll take back what’s ours. The packs will follow strength—not laws.”
The alphas howled their agreement, the sound sending a chill down Alaric’s spine. He shifted back into the shadows, his instincts screaming at him to leave before he was discovered. Whatever was happening here, it was bigger than he’d imagined.
As he slipped away into the forest, the whispers pressed against his mind once more: The time is near. Unite the pack.
Alaric’s pulse quickened. He didn’t understand the whispers or the strange mark on his wrist, but one thing was clear: the council wasn’t just dealing with rebellious alphas. Something far greater was at play, and for reasons he couldn’t yet comprehend, he was part of it.
He quickly made his way from the meeting back into the shadows.
——–
Alaric slowed his pace as he neared the scent markers of the packlands. His instincts sharpened, aware he was being watched. He didn’t have to wait long. The underbrush rustled, and two figures stepped out, their movements fluid and controlled.
Tobias, tall and broad, stood at the forefront, his blue eyes piercing. Beside him, Liam’s towering form exuded quiet strength, his dark eyes assessing Alaric with a mixture of suspicion and authority.
“State your name and business,” Tobias growled, his tone firm but not aggressive.
Alaric’s calm demeanour didn’t falter. “My name is Alaric,” he said simply. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
Tobias’s wolf stirred uneasily. He noticed the calm confidence in Alaric’s voice—a confidence that suggested he wasn’t just a wanderer. “That doesn’t answer the question,” Tobias pressed. “Why are you here?”
Alaric paused, considering his words carefully. “I’m travelling,” he said at last, his tone measured. “And I have my reasons for being here, but they’re not hostile. I’m not your enemy.”
Liam’s gaze sharpened, a strange sensation coursing through him. It was as though a faint hum resonated in the air, guiding his senses. He stared intently at Alaric, his wolf pushing forward as if urging him to act.
“You’re telling the truth,” Liam said suddenly, his deep voice cutting through the tension.
Tobias turned to him, surprise flickering across his face. “How do you know that?”
Liam hesitated, his dark eyes narrowing. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I can feel it. He’s not lying.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the exchange. “Well, that’s convenient,” he said wryly.
Tobias growled softly, still wary. “Convenient or not, it doesn’t explain everything.” His gaze dropped to Alaric’s wrist, where the faint gleam of an intricate tattoo caught his attention. “Where’d you get that?”
Alaric glanced down at the tattoo, the same question having plagued him since it appeared. “It just… showed up,” he said cautiously. “I didn’t do anything to get it.”
Liam’s wolf stirred again, and he spoke with certainty. “He’s not lying about that either.”
Tobias and Liam exchanged a glance, their suspicions giving way to cautious curiosity. “It’s the same colour as the thread that went nowhere,” Liam muttered, loud enough for Tobias to hear.
Alaric’s ears pricked at their words. “Thread?” he repeated, his curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about?”
Tobias narrowed his eyes, his protective instincts still on edge. “We can’t talk here,” he said curtly. “Follow us. And don’t try anything stupid.”
Alaric hesitated but nodded. He didn’t have many options, and the look in Tobias’s eyes made it clear they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
———
The small cottage stood in quiet contrast to the tension lingering in the air. Daemon opened the door as Tobias and Liam approached, his sharp brown eyes narrowing slightly when he saw Alaric behind them.
“Who’s this?” Daemon asked, his tone guarded.
Tobias stepped inside, motioning for Alaric to follow. “We found him at the border,” he explained. “He has one of the tattoos.”
Daemon’s brows lifted slightly, his expression turning thoughtful. “Interesting.”
Liam added, “Same colour as the thread that went nowhere. He might be the final link.”
Alaric, still standing near the doorway, folded his arms across his chest. “You keep talking like this is some great secret,” he said. “If I’m involved, don’t I have a right to know what’s going on?”
Daemon studied him for a moment before nodding. “You might. But not right now.” He motioned toward a chair. “Sit tight. Tobias and Liam will explain more when they get back.”
“Back?” Alaric asked, his brow furrowing.
Tobias was already heading toward the door. “We’re getting someone who can explain this better than we can.”
Liam gave Alaric a nod before following Tobias out. “Stay put,” he added over his shoulder.
A young female, marked, walked into the room from the bedroom, smiling at Daemon with soft eyes. She walked over to the newcomer “Hi.” She smiled. “I am Helena…Drink?”
Alaric sighed and nodded answering in the affirmative, adding his thanks, whilst glancing around the modest cottage. It was clear these wolves were organised, cautious, and protective. He’d stumbled hopefully onto people who knew what was going on and may even help him.
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