The night stretched endlessly over the Black Wolf's domain, the moon a pale eye watching from above. Kaelen still stood at the edge of the cliff, arms crossed, golden eyes narrowed upon the forest expanse. His wolf prowled within him, restless, whispering, Go to her… find her… claim her…
But duty weighed heavier than desire. His pack needed him strong, not distracted by a bond fate had cruelly woven. The sound of hurried paws and boots broke the silence. Kaelen turned slowly as Tharion emerged from the shadows of the cave mouth, his expression hard. Behind him came a stranger escorted by two of Kaelen's warriors. The man was no wolf of their pack. His cloak was crimson, lined with silver threads that gleamed faintly under the torchlight. His face bore scars, but none as fierce as the twisted sneer curling his lips. Even before he spoke, Kaelen knew who had sent him.
"Messenger," Kaelen growled, his voice reverberating through the stone hollow. "Speak." The man bowed mockingly low. "I bring words from Alpha Dreven Volkur of the Bloodfang Clan." At the mention of that name, a ripple of unease moved through the gathered wolves. Even Tharion's jaw tightened, though he gave nothing away.
The messenger straightened, his tone dripping with false courtesy. "Your Alpha has been seen. By humans. He broke the oldest accord of our kind—to remain hidden in shadow. For this failure, your tribute is no longer sufficient." Kaelen's eyes narrowed to slits. "What tribute does Volkur demand?" The messenger smirked, clearly enjoying the weight of the words he was about to deliver. "Triple. Blood. Silver. Land. Before the next half-moon." His gaze flickered boldly to Kaelen, mocking. "Or the Bloodfang will sweep through these woods and scatter your pack's bones across the soil." The air thickened. A low growl rumbled from Kaelen's chest, echoed by Veyric who stood just beyond the firelight. The younger warrior's hand twitched toward his blade, but Kaelen's raised hand stopped him. The Alpha rose to his full height, the firelight carving shadows across the hard lines of his face. "And if I refuse?" The messenger's smile widened, cruel and sharp. "Then you will not live to see the Blood Moon. My Alpha does not make idle threats." The silence that followed was suffocating. Kaelen's wolf lunged inside him, begging to rip the man's throat out, to silence that smug voice with blood. For a moment, his claws threatened to break through the skin of his hands. But Tharion's murmur grounded him. "Alpha. Not here. Not now." Kaelen exhaled slowly, forcing control. His golden eyes locked on the messenger like twin flames. "Tell Volkur this: the Black Wolves bend to no one. We will pay his price—but know this. His days of tyranny are numbered." The messenger gave another mocking bow, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. "I will deliver your words, Alpha Draven." "Do so swiftly," Kaelen said, his voice low with lethal promise. "And pray we do not meet again." The messenger was escorted out, his footsteps fading into the night. The moment he was gone, the chamber erupted with voices.
"They mock us!" Veyric roared, his fist slamming into the stone pillar beside him. "We should slaughter them all and paint the trees with their blood. Tribute? Tribute is for the weak!" "And yet we are not strong enough to withstand their numbers," Tharion countered evenly. His gray eyes met Kaelen's. "Alpha, you know this. Bloodfang outnumbers us five to one. If they march upon us before we are ready, we will be nothing but ash and memory."
"They will march whether we pay or not!" Veyric shot back. "Do you think Volkur will ever stop? He will bleed us dry until there is nothing left. He demands silver, then he will demand flesh. He will not be satisfied until every wolf outside his banner kneels or dies." Seliora, who had remained silent, stepped forward. Her pale cloak shimmered faintly in the firelight, and her voice carried calm amidst the storm. "Both of you are right. War is coming. Volkur hungers for power, and he will not be sated with mere tribute. But neither can we throw ourselves into his jaws without strategy." Her sharp eyes fixed on Kaelen. "The Blood Moon draws near. The bond you have found may yet be the key to our survival." At that, silence fell. Kaelen's jaw tightened, his thoughts flashing to Lyara's face, the way her eyes had met his as the bear fell. The bond burned through him like fire—both gift and curse. But he said nothing. Not yet. Veyric snarled in disgust. "You mean the human girl? We stake our fate on fragile flesh? Madness." Seliora's gaze hardened. "It is not madness. It is a prophecy." The tension crackled like lightning. Veyric's lip curled, Tharion's hand hovered near his weapon should blood spill, but Kaelen raised his hand and silence snapped into place. "I will decide," Kaelen said, his voice cutting like a blade. His golden eyes swept over them all. "We will pay Volkur's tribute… once. But this ends at the Blood Moon. By then, I will see to it that Volkur's reign of fear is broken."
"And how, Alpha?" Veyric demanded. "By love of a mortal girl?" Kaelen's head turned, his gaze burning, and for a moment the hall itself seemed to tremble. "By fang and fire," he snarled. "And by the will of the moon itself."
Later That Night
When the council had dispersed, Kaelen remained alone in the chamber. The fire burned low, casting shadows like spirits on the walls. He braced his hands on the stone table, his head bowed, the weight of a thousand choices pressing down on him.
He whispered into the stillness, his voice raw with both fury and longing. "No one will take her from me. No one will take what is mine." The wolf inside him howled in agreement, and the sound echoed through the cavern, shaking the stones, carrying into the night like a warning. The Bloodfang had declared their intent. War was coming.
And Kaelen knew between tribute, prophecy, and the bond that now burned in his chest. fate had set him on a path from which t
here was no return.