The moon hung low above the forest clearing, swollen and bright, as though it had descended just to witness what was about to unfold. Its silver light spilled through the trees, painting long shadows across the earth where the Blackwood Pack stood gathered in a wide circle.
No one spoke.
At the head of the circle stood Silas, Marcus, and Elena. Even among wolves, they carried themselves differently. Age, power, and experience clung to them like a second skin. Silas leaned lightly on his carved staff, his eyes sharp and measuring. Marcus stood with his arms folded, watchful and tense. Elena's posture was relaxed, almost graceful, but her gaze never left the boy standing alone at the center.
Stephen.
His clothes were still stained with soot and ash. Smoke lingered faintly in his hair. His hands trembled at his sides, though he clenched them hard enough to leave crescent marks in his palms. His eyes still burned, not fully silver now, but not entirely human either.
He did not understand why he was here.
He did not understand what these people wanted from him.
But he felt it.
Something deep inside his chest stirred restlessly, a low, constant pressure behind his ribs. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, growing heavier with every breath. It was the same sensation he had felt in the kitchen, moments before everything had shattered.
Before Frank.
Stephen swallowed hard and forced the memory down. He refused to let it surface. Tonight was not about fear. He would not be weak. Not here. Not in front of them.
Silas lifted his hands slowly.
The forest responded.
The wind stilled. The leaves stopped rustling. Even the distant night insects seemed to fall silent, as though the world itself had decided to listen.
"Stephen," Silas said, his voice calm but resonant, carrying easily through the clearing. "Son of fire and shadow."
The words settled over Stephen like a weight.
"We have brought you here to claim what has already awakened within you," Silas continued. "The Alpha Spark burns in your blood. It called to us across the city, across the fire and the loss. You stand here now because the power chose you."
Stephen's mouth felt dry. His throat tightened as though invisible hands were closing around it.
"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice rough. "What are you asking me to do?"
Marcus stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the forest floor. "It means you lead," he said simply. "You stand first when danger comes. You decide when we fight and when we protect."
Elena followed, her eyes gleaming faintly in the moonlight. When she smiled, her teeth caught the silver glow. "It means you are Alpha," she said. "And the pack is yours."
The circle tightened.
Not physically, but in presence. Stephen felt it immediately. Their attention pressed in on him from every side. Hunger. Hope. Expectation. Fear. He could feel all of it, layered and heavy, brushing against his senses in ways he had no words for.
And then he heard it.
"Stevie."
The whisper slid through the clearing like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.
Stephen's head snapped to the side. His heart slammed against his ribs. The trees stood empty. The shadows did not move.
"Stevie."
His breath hitched.
It was impossible. Frank was dead. Burned. Buried under rubble and ash. Stephen knew that. He had heard the roof collapse. He had felt the silence that followed.
But the voice was unmistakable.
Small. Mocking. Familiar.
A name that had never belonged to him, only to the fear Frank had carved into his bones.
The forest dissolved.
Suddenly Stephen was back in the kitchen. He could smell the sweat and stale alcohol. Hear the crash of ceramic. Feel the tight, helpless knot in his stomach as a bottle swung toward him.
No.
He staggered, dragging in a sharp breath. The pack shifted uneasily, sensing the sudden change in him.
"Stevie," the voice crooned. "You always were useless."
Stephen's hands began to shake.
"You think these people do not see it?" the voice continued. "They will. Just another broken boy pretending to be something he is not."
The pressure in Stephen's chest spiked painfully. His thoughts scattered, paranoia creeping in like rot.
They will know.
They will see you are still him.
Still scared. Still small.
The Alpha Spark reacted violently.
Moonlight brightened until it hurt his eyes. His back arched as power surged through him, wild and unrestrained. His vision fractured into streaks of silver and white. His fingers lengthened, nails sharpening into claws. His jaw ached as teeth pressed painfully against his gums.
This is what he meant.
This is what I am.
"Stephen," Silas called sharply. "Focus. Anchor yourself."
The voice barely reached him.
"Stevie," Frank whispered again, softer now. "Little freak."
Something inside Stephen shattered.
The sound tore out of him as a roar that did not belong to any human throat. Power exploded outward in a violent wave. The earth trembled. Wind ripped through the clearing, bending trees and scattering leaves in every direction.
The pack dropped instantly to one knee.
Not from fear.
From instinct.
From recognition.
The pressure vanished as quickly as it had come. The forest stilled once more. The voices fell silent, cut off as though a door had been slammed shut.
Stephen stood in the center of the clearing, chest heaving, his body vibrating with raw power. His eyes burned fully silver now, bright and absolute.
Slowly, the pack lifted their heads.
Awe was written plainly across their faces.
Elena was the first to rise. She approached him carefully, deliberately, and stopped just short of touching distance. Lowering her head, she bared her neck.
"My Alpha," she whispered.
One by one, the others followed. Knees hit the earth in a steady rhythm. Heads bowed. Loyalty offered freely.
Stephen barely noticed.
Inside his mind, Frank's voice lingered faintly, like an echo trapped in stone.
Stevie.
Stephen clenched his fists.
Silas stepped forward at last, his presence grounding, steady. "The transition is complete," he said quietly. "You are Alpha now, Stephen. Bound to us, as we are bound to you."
Stephen's gaze snapped to him. "What does that mean?" he demanded. His voice was deeper now, edged with something dangerous.
"It means we will teach you," Marcus said. "Guide you. You will not face this alone."
Stephen turned slowly, scanning the trees, the shadows, the dark spaces where fear liked to hide.
I am Alpha.
I am not Stevie.
The forest seemed to exhale.
And in that charged silence, Stephen took his first step forward, not as a victim, not as a frightened boy, but as the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack.
The night watched.
And so did the world.