Chapter 1 One

Deep and thick with the smells of aged wood and unwritten expectations, Crescent Moon's vast hall hung. Dust motes spun in the shafts of sunshine that cut the high, arched windows, lighting the scene below like a stage drama. From his massive shoulders and black hair tinged with silver, Silas Nightshade, Alpha of the Crescent Moon pack, radiated an unquestionable power as head of the long, polished table.

His low rumbling in the hall silenced the chatter of the gathered pack. Silas continued, glancing over the faces of his people, "the border disputes with the Shadowclaw pack have escalated."We cannot afford to show flaws. I have therefore decided to increase our southern border patrols."Perched on a raised platform at the hall's rear, Vix observed the show with boiling resentment. Her acute eyes detected the smallest nuances of the assembling.

The men nodded in queue, their chests swelled out with pride and their eyes gleamed with the hope of a fight. But the women sat with their heads lowered, their feelings a mix of quiet fear and resignation. Years of custom had taught them to follow the men's judgements and to appreciate their submissive place. Under Vix's emerald eyes, a flutter of bitterness danced. She knew quite well the southern limit. There were secret valleys and deep woods scattered over a frightening length of rocky ground. Sending extra patrols there would mean sacrificing the lives of their toughest fighters for what reason a trivial disagreement about territory neither pack truly needed? She had spent many hours mapping that area, knew it like the back of her hand, and had a far more sensible response. But these passageways ignored her voice, like that of her mother.

Silas continued, his voice exuding the confidence of a man accustomed to unquestioned submission. "For this duty, I have selected the most gifted combatants. They will leave early in the morning. He gestured to some men seated near the table, their faces alive with expectancy. Among them were Damon and Kaelen, her twin siblings whose young faces had already hardened under the rigorous pack standards. Vix closed her fingers on the edge of the platform. She watched her brothers trade impassioned glances, their eyes full with a pride she was unable to feel. They craved validation from their father and proof of their worth. But Vix realised the needless underlying danger they were absorbing. She understood their skills, their haughtiness, and the difference between real strength and arrogance. Just out of her teens, a young woman got shyly up from her seat.

Her hardly a whisper voice shook while she said. "Alpha Silas, about the northern border? Rogue wolves have lately become more frequent encounters. Silas's gaze went to her; his countenance was a mix of contempt and irritation. "The northern border is secure,"he said with a disdainful voice. "Scouts from that area are under observation here. The southern limit comes first for us. Slumping in her shoulders, the young woman glanced down on the floor. She had been quickly silenced for attempting to oppose Alpha's decision. Vix hurt inside her. She knew that feeling, that sense of discounting, that sense of invisibility. As the men discussed battle strategies and tactics, their voices were sharp like those of fighters. The conference continued. Vix's eyes strayed to her mother seated at the far end of the table, her countenance unreadable. Once a vibrant and active woman, her mother now moved with a sad resignation; years of being excluded had clouded her enthusiasm.

Vix knew her mother had once had dreams of her own, ideas of leading the pack, of changing things. But such aspirations had been dashed by the weight of custom and the unspoken rule allowing only men to lead. Vix was overcome with a flood of wrath, a scorching resentment that may have destroyed her. She could not stand to witness her own potential stifled by the pack's antiquated beliefs, as her mother's spirit withers. Unlike her mother, she refused to let herself be quiet. She would find a way to break free from custom's bonds and design her own road. Vix left the conference with silent steps on the stone floor. She had to find the cool wild air outside the hot hall. She had to prove her worth, have her voice heard, and question pack expectations.

Vix's cheeks stung from the sharp morning air as she arrived on the training site; her senses were assaulted with the scent of moist earth and pine needles. There is great activity in the region; the sound of groans and the clash of wooden swords echoes over the woodland. Her brothers Damon and Kaelen sparmed each other in the middle of the clearing as their bodies gleamed with sweat. Vix watched them with an acute analytical eye. She could see the errors in their technique despite their fluid and perfect motions, the seconds of delay that may be fatal in a real-world conflict. She knew she could easily surpass them both, but she also knew that displaying her superiority would only make them more angry. More aggressive of the two, Damon lunged ahead with his wooden blade aimed for Kaelen's chest.

Kaelen parayed the hit, his moves quick and agile, but Damon launched his attack with immense will gleaming in his eyes. Vix gripped the hilt of her own wooden knife more tightly. Adrenaline shot through her, a primordial impulse to join the fight and test her powers against her siblings. She paused, though, aware this was not her fight. As the sparring session progressed, the brothers' moves grew more aggressive; their moans and curses echoed throughout the area. Vix watched them, her head churning, analysing their methods and bringing up their shortcomings. She knew she could teach them so much and equip them to be greater, more powerful fighters. They would never pay attention to her or follow her instructions, though.

Around the edge of the clearing, a number of young men with flushed faces from effort gathered, staring at the sparring brothers. Their voices bounced across the clearing, mixed with respect and jealousy. "They are genuinely strong,"one of them said. "They'll generate superb fighters."Vix curled her lips, smiled cynically. They knew nothing. They just observed the surface of that outward display of hatred and force. They missed the fundamental conceit, the lack of discipline, the periods of uncertainty that may have claimed their lives. Finally Damon could disarm Kaelen; his sword clattering to the floor. His chest heaving with work, he roared with delight. Furious, Kaelen turned to face his brother, eyes blazing. Vix walked ahead, her words cutting across the tension. She said, "That was sloppy,"fixed on Damon. You left yourself quite vulnerable.

Damon turned to her, fury flaring in his eyes. And about fighting, what do you know? He laughed bitterly. "You are just a girl."Vix narrowed her eyes. Her voice was chilly. "I know enough to see your blunders,"she said. "You far too rely more on physical force than on planning. You are quite consistent. Damon walked towards her, his eyes glittering terribly. He snipped, "You want to try me?"Vix turned her lips into a ravenous smile. "Anytime,"she answered with a low, threatening voice. Around them, the other young men gathered with great attention. They had never seen Vix fight nor her real might. They were ready to acquire a really perceptive understanding. Vix and Damon squared each other, their eyes locked in an invisible challenge. First Vix moved, her wooden blade whirling around, her moves fluid and quick. Her sword pointed at Damon's throat, praying for his strike and rapidly disarmed him.

Silence for the clearing came from the two warriors' hard breathing only. Shock widening Damon's eyes, he blushed with disbelief. He had never been so thoroughly and quickly defeated. Vix dropped her blade, fixed on her brother. Her voice was cool, "strength without skill is useless,"she said. "Keep in mind."She turned and left Damon in the clearing, his eyes bewildered and hostile at once. The other young men watched her walk and showed a mixture of wonder and nervousness. Having recently glimpsed Victoria Nightshade's genuine might, they would never undervalue her once more.

Laments of Mother Long shadows over Vix's chamber produced by the mellow illumination of the moon smelt strongly of lavender and old parchment. Her mother Elara sat by the window gazing out the starry woodland. Her small fingers tracked the fading borders of a book bound in leather, her motions deliberate and slow.