Chapter 2 Moonrite Festival

ALINA'S POV

It was Douglass.

His voice cracked like a whip. In seconds, the blade was out of my hands, he threw it across the room and grabbed my wrists.

His eyes locked on mine.

For a split second, I saw fear on his eyes . But it disappeared as fast as it came.

"Stupid girl," he muttered. "What were you thinking?"

I didn't answer, he let go of me and stood.

"I don't care what they said to you," he said, his voice cold again. "You don't get to take the easy way out."

My throat tightened, and I looked away, blinking out the tears that blurred my vision.

"You live. Do you hear me?"

Still, I said nothing.

"Don't ever try that again," he said without turning. "Next time, no one will stop you." Then he left.

And I was alone again.

Once the door was shut, I let the tears flow freely, crying my hearts out. Then, I drifted off while thinking of how it would feel to live in a world I actually belonged to.

The dream came fast, one moment I was on my bed, the next moment I was standing in a throne room.

Blood pooled around a dark throne. Shadows flickered along cracked walls, and I saw him again, the same man, tall and broad shouldered, he was cornered by enemies.

His chest was heaving, his knuckles were bloodied. He was fighting like a mad man.

No matter how he fought, he was loosing

A blade swung toward him from behind. I didn't think twice, I just moved, placing myself between him and the strike.

Instantly, I felt the pain of the sword stuck in my belly. He caught me just before I hit the ground.

His arms were tense with shock. "Why?" he asked His voice low.

"I don't know," I coughed out blood as I spoke. "why do I keep seeing you, I don't even know your name."

He leaned in, lips close enough to brush mine.

"You will."

I gasped and sat up.

Not again.

I wiped at my face, it was still damp with tears.

Every time I slept, even just for a moment, I saw the same things; a dying world, a bloodied throne. And him.

I didn't know who he was, or why it felt like I knew him.

But I remembered him. Always.

And the worst part? It never felt like a dream.

I stared around my room blankly, It was still dark, one of those hours just before morning.

I lay awake, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, knowing I wouldn't fall back asleep.

Today was the Moonrite Festival.

Every year, the packs gather to pay homage to the throne. I never really understood why we continued this festival when the king never showed up.

No one outside the palace even knew what the king looked like. There were rumors, some said he was dead, others claimed he was a ghost.

But I was curious. I'd always been.

What kind of king stayed hidden while his world slowly fell apart?

I sat up, pushing the covers aside, my room was dim and quiet. I rubbed my arms to shake off the cold, unlike other werewolves, I always felt the cold.

I sat down beside the window, gazing out. Outside, the trees stood still. I sat there thinking about the faceless king of a fading kingdom... Lucan

I didn't know how long I sat by the window, but the pale orange glow stretching across the sky told me it had been hours.

Morning had crept in while I'd been lost in thought. With a tired sigh, I pushed away from the window and went back to bed, hoping I could catch even a few minutes of sleep.

Just as I let my eyes close, the door slammed open.

"Get up. We don't want to be late now, do we?" Douglass's voice was flat, the same dull tone he always used with me.

I thought something would have changed in the way he talked to me, after seeing me trying to take my own life last night. But apparently, I was wrong.

As long as I'd known Douglass, he'd never shown a trace of warmth. Not even when I was younger. It was like I was something he'd been forced to live with.

Calling him 'father' didn't even feel right anymore. Just like the rest of the pack, he saw me as a curse.

I dragged myself out of bed without a word. I washed the dirt from yesterday off my skin, I didn't get the chance to do that as sleep took me.

I pulled on a brown wool skirt and a tucked blouse, I didn't expect much from the day.

Honestly, I just wanted it to be over so I could be back in my room, away from everyone.

When I got downstairs, Douglass was already standing by the door, waiting like he couldn't bear to waste another second near me.

I didn't greet him. I just walked past and stepped outside.

The pack grounds were nearly empty. I figured most of the others had already left for the common gathering.

Today, like every year, the packs from across Elarion would gather and offer gifts to an empty throne, a symbol of the one in the realm's capital.

The king never came. He never even sent a message.

We'd place our gifts before that stone seat, listen to a few formal words from one of the palace guards, and go home.

That was the Moonrite Festival, empty, repetitive, and pointless.

And still... We all showed up, every single year.

The walk to the gathering ground was quiet, trees lined both sides of the dirt path.

I kept my eyes fixed on the woods as we walked. arms crossed tightly, trying to ignore the heavy silence stretching between us. Then, Douglass spoke.

"You still have that look."

I didn't turn. "What look?"

"The one that says you're already gone, even though you're right here."

His voice wasn't cold this time. It was low, it felt like he didn't want to say the words but needed to.

"You weren't supposed to come in last night," I said, barely above a whisper.

"I didn't plan to. Something told me to check on you."

Silence again.

Then he added, "You scared the hell out of me."

I finally looked at him. His face was unreadable, eyes forward, jaw set tight.

"You didn't show it," I said.

"Didn't think I was allowed to."

We walked in silence a bit longer, "You shouldn't have to stop me," I muttered.

He turned his head then, just slightly. "Yes, I should."

I kept quiet, not knowing what to say anymore. We didn't talk again the rest of the way, but for the first time in a long while, the silence didn't feel so cruel.

When we got there, the place was already crowded. Packs from neighboring regions had gathered.

I could see the colors they wore, each group standing together. At the center of it all was the empty black stone throne.

I stood off to the side while Douglass joined the others from our pack. I kept my distance, there was no need to go close to them.

Then the ceremony started. The Alpha of the Frost Pack stepped forward, carrying his gift wrapped in dark fur.

He bowed in front of the throne and was about to speak- But then, the sound of hooves interrupted him.

Everyone went still.

A man rode in on a black horse. His clothes were all black, from head to toe, and his face was hidden by a hood.

He rode into the middle of the circle and stopped, then he pulled his hood back.

The man was striking, his face was too sharp to be real. His skin was pale like moonlight, his features carved and flawless.

His hair fell to his jaw in loose windblown waves, his eyes silver and cold cut through the crowd like a blade.

Scanning the crowd like he was looking for something, then-he looked right at me.

I froze, it was him.