The dining hall buzzed with polite chatter and the clatter of silverware.
The Gamma family arrived before sunset, dressed in fine fabrics and ambition.
Laughter echoed through the Alpha estate's grand hall, hiding sharp teeth beneath smiles.
Lisa sat beside her parents, chin lifted as though she already wore a Luna's crown.
"This pack needs unity," Luther announced smoothly. "And nothing strengthens a pack like a powerful Luna beside its future Alpha."
Lisa's eyes lit up. She turned to Martin, voice honey-sweet.
Alpha Luther's golden eyes swept the room like a predator scanning prey. He leaned back, cold and deliberate.
"Lisa, Martin," he said, voice smooth as steel, "you two will have a talk. Now."
Lisa's lips curved into a polite smile. "Why don't we go somewhere private?" she suggested, leaning toward him.
Martin's jaw tightened. He rose slowly, resisting the urge to glare, and nodded.
Their parents called after them in a mix of authority and expectation:
"Don't waste time!"
"Make this count, Martin!"
"Lisa, behave as a proper Luna!"
Martin ignored them, focus fixed on the terrace ahead.
Lisa's hand brushed lightly against his. She smiled, a smile that made his wolf bristle, uneasy yet intrigued.
The terrace overlooked the gardens. A soft breeze tugged at their hair, carrying the scent of early blooms and tension.
"I've already planned how I can stand by you," Lisa said softly. "As your Luna. I'll help you rule and support you in every way."
Martin didn't respond. His silence spoke louder than any word.
"I'm not ready," he said finally, flat but firm.
Lisa blinked, then smiled wider, unnervingly patient. "That's fine. I can wait… as long as it takes."
She leaned in for a kiss, but Martin gently pushed her away.
After the Gamma family had left, he straightened, eyes locking with his father.
"I can't be with her," he said, deliberate. "Not now. Not ever. Not while she's being forced into something she isn't ready for. And Romilda has a wolf."
Luther's jaw tightened, a vein ticking at his temple.
"She has power? Nonsense."
"She does," Martin pressed. "I saw her eyes. They turned red. Her wolf… it's real. Father, if you'd let me help her, I could guide her safely. She doesn't have to be..."
"Enough!" Luther barked, cutting through the hall like a whip.
He rose, boots echoing against stone, golden eyes searing.
"She is nothing. No wolf. No power. And you will never make her your mate."
Martin's hands clenched into fists, nails biting his palms.
"She could be..."
"You dare speak her name again," Luther thundered, "and you will regret it. You will lose far more than your freedom."
He stormed out, doors slamming behind him. Silence followed, thick and heavy.
His wolf growled beneath the surface restless, worried, frustrated.
***
Romilda sat on the edge of her bed, the ancient book resting open in her lap.
She hadn't known why she chose this one.
Something about it had pulled at her the moment her fingers brushed the spine, as if the book had been waiting.
The pages were brittle, the ink faint, but as her eyes traced the lines, the words sharpened… shifting, settling into place.
It was a poem.
'When the Moon Goddess wept,
she blessed a child unseen by fate.
No mark to name them.
No path to claim them.
Romilda frowned, leaning closer.
Born without mystic sign,
the child was cast aside,
called hollow and broken,
unworthy of the Moon's light.
Her chest tightened.
So the Goddess gave a gift unnamed,
not bound to one blood or one power.
The strength to walk every path
and belong to none.
Romilda swallowed.
The mystics trembled.
For what cannot be named
cannot be ruled.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the page.
They called it a curse.
For the child could heal as easily as destroy.
Balance was broken the moment the gift was given.
The final lines were faint, almost unfinished.
When the child awakens,
the world will decide
saltation.
or ruin.
Romilda blinked, heart racing.
"That's it?" she whispered.
No answers. No explanations. No mention of how or why.
Only a poem.
She closed the book slowly, confusion twisting in her stomach.
Was it a legend?
A warning?
Or just an old myth meant to frighten children?
Her reflection caught her eye in the darkened window.
For a heartbeat, she thought her eyes glimmered red.
But when she blinked it was gone.
Romilda hugged the book to her chest, unsure why her hands were shaking.
"I don't understand," she murmured.
And somewhere deep inside her, something stirred.
not recognition…
but waiting.
The door creaked softly.
Romilda flinched and snapped the book shut just as her mother stepped inside.
Priscilla's gaze immediately landed on the worn leather cover clutched to Romilda's chest.
"What are you reading?" she asked, tone casual but her eyes sharp.
Before Romilda could answer, Priscilla reached out and gently took the book from her hands.
Priscilla flipped through the brittle pages, then paused reading and then, shaking her head.
"A myth," she said at last. "Old pack nonsense."
Romilda's heart thudded.
"It's just a story about beings who can walk more than one path," Priscilla continued, closing the book. "Werewolf. Mage. Vampire." She shook her head lightly.
"People used to invent tales like this when they didn't understand magic or bloodlines."
She handed the book back.
"Why are you interested in it?"
Romilda forced a shrug, schooling her face into calm.
"It's nothing. I just wanted something to read. Maybe learn some history."
Priscilla studied her for a long moment, searching and measuring.
Then her expression softened.
"That's good," she said gently. "Knowledge is never a weakness."
She brushed Romilda's hair back and kissed the top of her head.
"Come downstairs early for dinner, alright?"
Romilda nodded. "I will."
Priscilla turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
The room felt heavier the moment she was gone.
Romilda exhaled slowly and reopened the book.
Her eyes scanned the poem again but it was still confusing.
She search desperately for something clearer, something that would tell her what she was.
But the book offered nothing more.
No answers.
No names.
Only warnings wrapped in poetry.
Her chest tightened.
She closed the book slowly, squeezing her forehead with her finger.
"Please…let the answers be somewhere.
Because if they weren't..."
She swallowed hard.
She didn't know what she will become
And that terrified her.