The sun, now a dying ember, gave the western horizon its last fiery red shades before folding to an incoming bruised purple twilight. As its very previous slice of light disappeared, a spooky, ghost-like glow started to radiate from above.
This was not your run of lunar cycle; it was the Blood Moon, a heavenly sign that happens only once a year and casts an eerie yet terrible scarlet light over the night.
According to this grim demonstration, the two ancient werewolf clans, the Silverwood and the Blackthorn, were to meet forcibly in a fight for their lives, a wild mixture of teeth and claws, loud brutish howls reverberating through the eternal woods.
The winner would then grab not only the power over the whole Thornfield Valley, a place where werewolves and humans live side by side, albeit under a fragile and often strained truce, but also the throne of the valley.
While the cycle of bloodshed was still going on, it had, nevertheless, stopped for a while. After the trenches went on for some time, the two tired and worn-out werewolf clans had managed to make a pact, mixed in the blood of the ancestors, and maintained by the fragile hope of a common future. It had been twelve years after the last war of the Blood Moon, twelve years of a fragile peace that had given a false sense of security to most of the people. Tonight, awesome as it was, was not going to be a throwback to the events of the past but a turning point, the alliance would be broken, the betrayal would be revealed, and the love that was supposed to remain hidden would set off an avalanche of events ready to destroy not only the pact but both the tribes in the abyss of annihilation.
Mikael Silverwood, the Silverwood heir to the throne, moved towards his father's heavily oak-paneled room door. His knuckles, which were white against the wood, gave a hesitant rhythm of rapping.
"Dad, I would like to discuss something with you," he said in a rumbling tone that was low and barely hid the anxiety he felt in his stomach.
From inside a deep, cool, toned voice full of command and tiredness of the burden of leadership responded, "Come on in, son." One of the things that had always distinguished him, even when he was just a child with long blonde hair, was that he was quite different from the rest of the Silverwood, which are mostly dark-haired; therefore, going back to the inheritance of his father, he was a continuous, yet faint, reminder of his peculiar family line.
With a groan of protest, he swung the door open and entered his father's room. This is not the lavish palace of the Alpha that one hears about, but rather a Spartan domicile. There is nothing in the room to detract from the seriousness of the scene: an old man, his dad, the mighty Alpha of the Silverwood tribe, sits on the ground with a cross-legged posture, his back straight and his eyes staring at the eight worn mats spread out in front of him.
Mikael sat on the mat that was nearest to his father with a deep breath that was more of resignation than of relief. The Alpha's sharp and insightful gaze went right into the core of Mikael's pretended character.
"You get married tomorrow, don't you? What is so important that you can't wait?" his father, with no sign of warmth in his voice, asked.
Mikael reflexively reached for the silver wolf pendant that was hanging around his neck, which stood for both his birthright and his tribe. He took the cool metal off his neck, the heat in his cheeks contrasting with it.
"Dad, that is exactly the case," he said. Between them on the floor was the necklace which he had placed face up, its smooth polished surface reflecting the dim light.
"I am not going to marry Elizabeth. I am only a prisoner of love to Eva," he said. Once uttered, those words seemed to lodge themselves in the atmosphere like a loud declaration that was both terrifying and freeing at the same time.
The Alpha face, which most of the time shows no signs of wisdom, in this particular case, was distorted into a display of pure wrath. His eyes, which are usually very calm and steel, became fiery as he got very angry.
"Are you even aware of what you are saying?" he asked in a very loud voice, shaking with anger.
"This marriage has been going on for ages! In fact, it is the very basis of the peace that we agreed on 12 years ago. You think I will allow you to spoil it by throwing it to the ground?" He moved forward and, in a threatening tone, he started to say each word like he was hitting Mikael with a hammer.
"The answer remains the same as that of the last time, and you are not to say this again to anyone." His stare was like ice, not even a bit of softening. "Firstly, you will wed Elizabeth, and secondly, there is going to be Eva and Noah Blackthorn. Moreover, I am not going to listen to anything related to this again. "
Now that Mikael was also furious, he got up, "In the past, I have remained silent and have listened to you, "he yelled, with a voice that was a mixture of defiance and desperation and also was cracking, "but I will not allow you to spoil my life!"
The usually soft blue of his eyes started to glow with a strange violet light that gave way to his inner wolf, which was just beginning. He looked at his very angry father with his jaw clenched, and through the teeth that were gritted, he said, "I will marry Eva." He was breathing heavily, and each one of them was filled with his determination.
The Alpha ascended, the tall frame of his shadow slowly passing over his son. His right hand, a flash of movement, changed into a quite large, silver, furred wolf's paw, with claws extended, shining, and scary.
He hit Mikael on the face with a guttural roar, a force that made the younger werewolf lie on the ground several meters away and crash against the opposite wall with a terrible bang. Mikael, with a sore head and metallic taste in his mouth, staggered up. His eyes, engulfed in a bright, furious purple, fixed on his father.
A primal roar burst from his mouth, a challenge to the Alpha's authority. He didn't move, shaking with anger, but then his father's eyes, which were already full of fire, turned a deep and scary red. The Alphas' roar, a sound that seemed to shake the whole chamber, was met with a very quick and powerful reaction from the Silverwood tribe as a whole.
A very slight shake went through the pack, the deepest fear of the primal roots that was at the heart of the members' bones and that was connected with the uttermost power of the Alpha.
Mikael, whose rebellious spirit was briefly suppressed by the overpowering father's dominance, edged away. His purple eyes went dim, and then, with a sudden and wild burst, he drove through the chamber door, the wood breaking under his impact.
"She is mine!" he shouted, his voice reverberating through the silent corridors. "And no one can take her from me, not even the pack's Alpha nor my father!"
His anger-filled steps went down the hall until he stopped at the door beside his father's. That's the place where Eva sleeps. He pounded the door with his fist until the skin on his knuckles was gone and his voice was hoarse.
"Eva, are you there?" he asked, his desperation so strong that he seemed to be shouting. "Close the door if you are here!"
After a moment of suspense, the lock clicked, and the door slowly opened with a creak. A girl was coming out with long dark hair that was normally a mess of wild waves, but now perfectly and brilliantly under the faint light of the corridor. She was wearing a beautiful white dress, absolutely a wedding gown, lace with delicate patterns, and complicated embroidery, which was a mockery of Mikael's broken dreams. Her eyes, which were friendly and bright before, were indifferent and far away now.
"What do you want?" she asked sharply, an impatience which was wrapped in her voice and stung Mikael more than his dad's blow had.
Mikael looked at her and forgot his anger for a moment, which was replaced by amazement. His plastic rehearsed lines combined with his passionate pleas all disappeared in the presence of such a divine woman. He had come to her place full of anger, but now, before he even knew it, a strange peacefulness was over him.
"I wanted to speak with you about something," he barely said, his voice more gentle than he intended. "Are you alone?"
Eva's lips remained tightly pressed together. "No, as I told you before, I am getting ready for marriage." Trying to close the door, she was stopped by Mikael, who, impulsively, went into the room without her permission.
"You don't need to get dressed," he said, his voice becoming more rebellious as he spoke, "you are not getting married." Eva, who had been closing the door, stopped. She let go of the door frame and, with narrowed eyes, she slowly opened the door again.
"Mikael, if it is about marriage again, then leave. I am not in love with you; I am in love with Noah, and he loves me. For the hundredth time, I am telling you to forget me and marry the one who loves you, Elizabeth."
Mikael looked at her, felt the old pain in his heart as usual, and said, "Why would I marry someone I don't love? Noah is my friend; he will understand if I say we love each other." He yelled, his voice reverberating in the small room. With a mixture of anger and weariness, Eva, still holding the door open, looked at him.
"Mikael, get out of my house, go far away, and for the last time, I am saying this. I love him, not you. Don't you ever tell Noah or her sister about your childish behavior? And don't do it."
Childish? Mikael countered incredulously, his voice laced with disbelief. He took hold of her wrist, his grip strong yet gentle. I am the one who says I love you. I have been loving you even before Noah came into our lives. I am aware that you are lying and that you don't want to marry him. You are only doing it because of the truce between the tribes. The four of us were sacrificed for the sake of peace, and I am not going to let them ruin our lives, especially yours and mine. He searched her with his eyes for even the slightest acknowledgment of love and a trace of the love they had once shared.
Still, Eva looked away and avoided his intense gaze. "Why don't you get it?" she yelled, her voice shaking and tears glistening in her eyes, "I do not love you. We were good friends, but I have never seen you as anything more than just a friend." She pushed Mikael with force out of her room,
"Exactly as you said, why would I marry someone I don't love, and no matter how much they love me? Tomorrow is going to be the perfect day; please don't ruin it. Now, get lost and don't ever come back here." The sound of the closing door resounded with the finality of her words.
Mikael lost the capability to respond immediately to the rejection as if it had hit him physically. After that, with a lot of regret, he turned away, the hallway's silence making his sadness more noticeable.
"Like you would be here after tomorrow," he whispered, a corrosive prophecy. Further, he kept moving, his steps taking him away from the Silverwood estate and further into the woods that were whispering.
"Yeah, yeah, go on; you are not the first one who has done this to me today," he yelled at the door that was shut, an empty show of rebellion. In his head, he was storming with an incoherent mixture of rage, heartbreak, and desperate plans. "Maybe I should just kill Noah, no, no, that would ignite a war. So, what, why do you even care? If war breaks out, Noah won't marry Eva, and she will be all mine." Head down the dark path, he stumbled over a tree root that was sticking out of the earth.
"Shit! My luck," he blurted out, getting up. "Yes, you and your bad luck, Mackie." A voice he knew well and which was tinged with laughter, replied from the dark. Noah Blackthorn, his best friend, the man Eva was to marry, walked out of the shadows, tall and lean, and stretched out his hand to Mikael.
"Noah, what are you doing in here?" Mikael, taken aback, accepted the hand, replied. "Don't you know it's nighttime?" Noah grinned widely, a flicker of white teeth in the darkness, then, as he pulled Mikael up, he let out a loud laugh. "Look who's talking. My friend, you are in the Blackthorn territory. I heard you shouting." Mikael took a hearty draw on the bottle of liquor he was holding, the burning liquid doing very little to numb his emotional distress.
"Why didn't you catch me when I tripped?" he grumbled. Noah grabbed the bottle, took a sip, and then, with a dramatic gesture, threw it away. "I wanted to see you fall," he giggled, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "Now, tell me what you are doing in the woods just one night before your marriage."
Mikael, whose eyes were still marked with the purple of his werewolf, scanned. "Oh, I am here to kill you and start a war between both tribes." Noah's smile quickly disappeared for a split second, a shadow passing his eyes.
"What do you mean by that?" Mikael, growing more furious, his rage renewed, and together with his transformation into a powerful werewolf, his silver claws shimmered in the moonlight. "Today is the Blood Moon," he announced, his voice heavy and threatening. "Let's settle it like old men did. Fight to the death, the winner gets to marry Eva."
The expression on Noah's face, which was at first confused, turned into a smirk of challenge. "Oh, you want to fight like we used to? Have you forgotten I'm stronger than you?" He laughed, a sound that irritated Mikael. "But, okay, let's go. You are drunk; it would be easy." In a smooth move, Noah's hands also turned into his paws that are of a deep, jet black; his claws looked even sharper and more lethal than Mikael's silver ones.
"This is not a friendly fight," Mikael growled, rushing at Noah, his claws aimed at him. However, Noah, with a speed that was not in line with his relaxed attitude, bent low and struck a quick, hard blow to Mikael's stomach. Mikael gasped. He bent, hitting the ground with a thud.
"That hurts," he whimpered, clutching his stomach. Once again, Noah gave a laugh that was genuine and without a care. "Dude, seriously, you still cry like a baby." He put a hand forward to help Mikael up.
"Come to my home; let's drink something, something better than whatever you were drinking." He laughed, and after Mikael was up, Noah turned, pretending as if they were going to have another one of their usual playful rivalry, and slowly walked towards the Blackthorn tribe's encampment. However, Mikael, whose heart was full of betrayal and despair, once more transformed his hands into wolf paws.
"Noah!" he shouted, his voice thick with hatred and a chilling, unfamiliar anger. The smile on Noah's face disappeared. The moment he heard the raw, venomous tone in Mikael's voice, he knew this night was going to be a long one, far from a friendly spar.