Chapter 5 The moon chosen

This one the copper haired emissary repeated, her amber eyes never leaving Fidira's face. "The alpha will be pleased."

A shiver ran through the crowd, relief mixing with the lingering fear that always accompanied the werewolves' presence. Elder Thorne stepped forward, his ceremonial staff tapping against the cobblestones as he approached.

"The tribute is accepted, then?" he asked, his voice steadier than his trembling hands.

The female werewolf flicked her gaze toward him, her expression conveying such dismissive disinterest that the elder visibly wilted. "She is more than acceptable," she replied, her accent giving the words an almost musical quality. "She is precisely what we've been waiting for."

Confusion flickered across Elder Thorne's weathered face. This wasn't the typical response. Usually, the emissaries simply nodded their acceptance and departed with their chosen tribute. Never in living memory had they expressed such... enthusiasm.

"What do you mean by that?" The question came not from the elder but from Madison, who had stepped forward, suddenly finding his voice. Was it concern for his daughter that finally broke his silence, Fidira wondered, or fear that he'd given away something more valuable than he'd realized?

The emissary regarded Madison with a cold stare. "You offer your daughter without knowing her worth?" She circled Fidira once more, this time reaching out to lift a strand of her white hair. "Interesting that you would part with such a treasure so easily."

Madison's face paled. "She's just a girl," he stammered. "Different, yes, but"

"Different," the werewolf echoed, cutting him off with a soft laugh. "Yes, I suppose that's one way to describe what she is." She turned her attention back to Fidira, studying her mismatched eyes with undisguised fascination. "Tell me, child, has anyone ever explained why you look the way you do?"

Fidira held the woman's gaze, surprised by her own lack of fear. "No," she answered simply. "My mother died giving birth to me. My father never spoke of her."

Something like anger flashed in the emissary's eyes as she glanced back at Madison. "How predictably human," she murmured, "to fear what you don't understand, to reject what you should protect."

The two male werewolves had moved closer now, flanking the woman. The taller one leaned down to whisper something in her ear, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd as if assessing threats. She nodded in response.

"We must not linger," she announced, addressing the town at large. "The moon reaches its apex soon, and the alpha awaits."

Elder Thorne cleared his throat. "Then the ceremony is complete? Our town's obligation was fulfilled for another seven years?"

The female werewolf smiled, revealing teeth that seemed just slightly too sharp for comfort. "Your town's obligation, yes. For now." Her gaze returned to Fidira. "But history's obligations are another matter entirely."

She extended her hand to Fidira, a gesture that seemed strangely formal and respectful compared to the usual way tributes were claimed. "I am Lyra, First Guardian to Alpha Giovanni. Will you come willingly?"

The question itself was unprecedented tributes had never been given a choice before. A murmur of confusion rippled through the crowd. Maxwell shifted uncomfortably, while Melissa clutched at Madison's arm, her knuckles white with tension.

Fidira looked at the hand offered to her, then back at the family that had always treated her as an unwanted burden. Whatever unknown fate awaited her with the werewolves, it couldn't possibly be worse than the emptiness of her existence here.

"Yes," she said clearly, placing her hand in Lyra's. "I will."

The werewolf's hand was surprisingly warm, her grip gentle but secure. "Then let us depart," Lyra said, satisfaction evident in her voice. "The alpha has waited long enough to meet the one with the dual gaze."

As they turned to leave, Madison suddenly lurched forward. "Wait!" he called out, his voice cracking. "What happens to her now? The others never returned"

Lyra paused, looking back at him with an expression mingling pity and contempt. "The others were not like her," she said simply. "And as for returning... one cannot return to a place one never truly belonged to."

With those cryptic words hanging in the air, Lyra led Fidira toward the northern edge of the square, the two male werewolves falling into step behind them. As they reached the boundary where the torchlight gave way to darkness, theFidira felt a curious sensation-not fear, but something closer to anticipation.

She didn't look back as they stepped into the shadows, leaving behind the only life she had ever known.