The mountains stirred gently as dawn approached. A dense fog enveloped the Silverclaw grounds, moving slowly and quietly, softening the sounds of paws striking the earth and the sharp clatter of staffs meeting each other.
Kaelen Veyne adjusted her stance, methodically circling her sparring partner. The chilly air brushed against her skin, but she felt a satisfying burn in her muscles, a testament to the five rounds of sparring they had already completed that morning.
Opposite her, Tirian wore a playful grin, staff firmly in hand, though he balanced precariously with one foot nearly slipping in the mud.
"Getting tired yet?" he teased.
Kaelen didn't answer. She lunged.
Their staffs clashed in a hard crack of wood. She twisted, sweeping low. He barely dodged.
"Still trying to take my legs out?" he laughed. "You've got a one-track mind."
"Then learn to guard low, genius," she snapped, driving him backward.
—Kaelen's movements sharp, fast, clean. Tirian was wiry and quick, but he couldn't match her power. Few could.
On the sidelines, a small crowd watched with mild interest. Mostly other Beta-rank wolves like them. A few Omega younglings. No Alphas. Not at this hour….
And certainly not him.
Kaelen pinned Tirian with a sharp strike to the shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
"I win Again," she muttered, panting.
"Brutal," said a voice behind her.
She turned. Liora, seated on a boulder, looked perfectly untouched by the cold or the early hour. Her hair was tied with silver thread, skin porcelain-pale, violet eyes bright with amusement.
"Training," Kaelen said, brushing a curl off her damp brow. "You should try it sometime."
"I have other talents," Liora replied, lifting a thermos of spiced tea and sipping like a noble. "Some of us weren't built to throw trees."
Kaelen snorted. Liora always teased, but there was a truth to it.
Kaelen was tall, broad-shouldered, with arms shaped by years of combat drills. Most of the girls in Silverclaw were slim and graceful, like Liora. Or like…
"Didn't think the ground could take this much pounding before breakfast."
She heard his voice before she saw him,
Eryx Morvayne.
Firstborn of Alpha Harkan. Future leader of the Silverclaw Pack. And a chronic pain in Kaelen's ass.
He strolled past the sparring pit like he owned the ground itself. His short-cropped black hair was damp from his own training. Shirt half open. Lean muscle. Too perfect.
Kaelen bristled. "Worried I'm breaking your toys?"
"Only worried about wasted effort," Eryx said, flashing that same cold, empty grin. "You could flatten half the pack and still wouldn't be what they're looking for."
"Maybe I'm not trying to be," she snapped.
He didn't even bother stopping. Just walked on, two Elite wolves trailing behind him like shadows.
The tension hung in the air like fog.
Later, after drills, Kaelen sat under an Oak tree chewing a bread crust while Tirian scribbled symbols in the dirt beside her.
"Some day you'll finally beat him," he said casually.
Kaelen scowled. "I already could. He just doesn't fight fair."
Tirian looked at her sideways. "That's not what I meant."
She ignored him.
A pack of young trainees jogged by, snickering behind their hands.
"Kaelen the Crusher," one whispered. "Might crush your spine if you dance wrong."
Kaelen shoved the bread into her mouth.
She was used to it.
Still didn't make it hurt any less tho...…
The Beta's Quarters
The inside of the den was quiet and clean. Old stone, thick furs, and the scent of burning pine.
————-
Her father—Darek, Beta of the Silverclaw Pack—sat at the long oak table, polishing a blade. He was broad like her, greying at the temples, with quiet eyes that saw more than they let on.
"You made a mess of Tirian today," he said without looking up.
"He needs it," she muttered, dropping into the bench across from him.
Darek set the blade down. "That strength of yours… It's a gift, Kael. But you don't have to prove it every second."
"I'm not proving anything," she said.
He gave her a look. Not harsh. Just tired. "I know what it's like to fight ghosts."
She didn't answer. She couldn't.
Nightfall
Her room was small but warm. Old wolf pelts. A wooden box full of notes and dried leaves from her mother—a woman she remembered only in pieces: warm hands, dark hair, the smell of lilac and steel.
She lit a candle and opened the box. Inside, beneath a broken pendant and a bone comb, was a scrap of cloth—soft, faded blue, embroidered with a mark she didn't recognize.
She traced it absentmindedly.
It felt important. But she didn't know why.
She slept Clutching that piece of fabric while she drifts info sleep.
Moonrise
Kaelen sat on the high ridge above the dens, where you could see the stars. She liked it here—alone. The wind louder than the whispers. The moon far enough that nothing seemed ugly.
Below, in the firelight, Eryx leaned against a tree, laughing with Liora.
Kaelen looked away quickly.
Tirian appeared beside her a moment later, quiet as always.
"You know you don't have to keep trying so hard for someone that doesn't see you."
She didn't answer him
she sat quietly as the wind shifted.
Far off in the forest, something howled—long and low.
Kaelen didn't flinch.
She never did.
End of Chapter 1
— Kaelen is a Beta-rank werewolf, respected but not admired, strong but undervalued.
— Raised by Darek, the Beta of the pack —, never knew her mother has a Step sister
— Tirian (male best friend): quiet, clever, loyal, but a little too watchful.
— Liora (female best friend): pretty, popular, witty, fits the pack's ideal.
__ Eryx: Alpha's son, cruel flirt, public golden boy.
~~