Chapter 5 The Weight of the Past

Alma walked deeper into the forest, leaving behind the den and the burning gazes of the pack. Each step took her further from what was expected of her, each breath felt deeper, freer. Here, in the heart of the silent nature, she could finally breathe without feeling the weight of expectations crushed on her shoulders.

She didn't know exactly why she was running away that morning, but she knew one thing: she didn't want to hear the orders, the lessons, the constant reminders that she had to be strong, dignified, ruthless.

She settled down beneath a gnarled oak tree, gazing up at the sky filtered through the thick leaves. In that suspended moment, a haunting thought came back to her.

Why had she always felt this emptiness inside her? Why did her father dodge her questions about her mother?

As if this truth, this secret, was what defined her much more than her Luna heritage.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the forest, Ramba roamed the young wolf training areas. He watched wordlessly as the apprentices refined their hunting instincts, tested their strength, and obeyed orders without question. This was how the pack was supposed to function.

This was how Alma should have operated.

But she was different.

As he stood there, straight and motionless, a shadow slipped silently behind him.

Sylvara.

Her step was fluid, calculated, and when she spoke, it was only a breath, but a breath laden with menace.

"You better not have your secret discovered."

Ramba stood frozen in place.

He felt his jaw tighten in spite of himself, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment.

He had never been afraid of a fight, never feared an opponent. But Sylvara's words carried a truth he couldn't deny.

He had committed the irreparable.

And if Alma learned what he had done...

Everything could collapse.

The future of the pack, his role as Alpha, and most importantly, the fragile bond he still maintained with his daughter.

He inhaled slowly, trying to regain his composure, but in his mind, the threat still echoed.

His secret was never supposed to see the light of day. Never.

Ramba turned abruptly to Sylvara, his breath coming in gasps, his gaze burning with uncontrolled rage. His muscles tensed beneath his dark fur, a testament to the effort he was making to contain what he couldn't say.

"Shut up!" he roared, his voice echoing through the air like thunder. "You have no right to bring up the past!"

But Sylvara didn't back down.

Her pale eyes, filled with a wisdom too ancient to be ignored, scrutinized the Alpha without flinching. She was the only one who could stand up to him, the only one who dared to speak of what he had buried.

"Alma is the way she is because she doesn't come entirely from here," she whispered. "Part of her belongs to a world you wanted to erase."

The sentence struck Ramba like an invisible blade.

His body stiffened, his breath caught for a split second before anger took full possession of him.

He howled, a cry that made the earth vibrate beneath their paws, a harsh warning that ripped through the den and spread across the clearing.

All eyes turned towards them.

The young wolves paused their training, the elders raised their heads, attentive. Even Kaelen, impassive until then, stared at the scene with renewed interest.

Ramba knew he'd just lost control, gotten carried away, given Sylvara exactly what she wanted: a sign that what she was saying was true.

But he wasn't ready to admit it.

Sylvara, however, did not stay any longer.

With a slow but sure movement, she turned on her heel, leaving behind a final sentence that echoed in the air like a curse.

"The past is about to resurface."

Then she disappeared into the shadows.

Ramba stood there, frozen.

He knew it. He had always known it. But hearing those words out loud, in front of the pack, in front of the elders, was something he wasn't ready to face.

Everything he had sought to protect was in danger of collapsing.

And there was no way back.

Breathless, her heart still pounding with exertion, Alma stopped abruptly when she saw her father frozen in the center of the circle formed by the elders. The echo of his howl still vibrated in the air, a heavy shadow that seemed to permeate the earth itself.

She approached, trying to ignore the stares directed at her, trying to understand the origin of this brutal tension that was tearing the den apart.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment.

Ramba slowly pivoted toward her, his gaze burning with a rage she didn't fully understand. His dark fur was bristling, a sign that his heart was still beating with emotion.

"Listen to me," he growled, his tone sharp as a blade. "You better succeed in this mission."

Alma narrowed her eyes, troubled by her father's severity.

"I know that. But why..."

He abruptly cut her sentence off, advancing towards her with heavy, imposing steps.

"If you fail, you will be banished from the Keibster pack. Forever."

The words crashed against her like a sentence.

Banished. Excluded. Sent back to a world that wasn't hers with no way back.

The elders made no visible reaction, but Alma knew they supported this unspoken threat. They were watching her, waiting to see if she was worthy, or if she would be dismissed as an anomaly incapable of ruling.

She felt her breathing quicken, her body struggling with the weight of this truth.

She never really had a choice.

But now she understood that it wasn't just about proving her strength.

It was about survival.

And she wondered, for the first time, if she was capable of it.