Marked By The Midnight Alpha

The Moon Festival was supposed to be a night of beauty — lanterns glowing like fireflies, music drifting through the air, pack members laughing while dancing beneath the rising full moon. But for Elara, it was just another night of forced labor. She wiped sweat from her forehead as she arranged the last tray of pastries on the long banquet table. Her hands stung from burns she’d gotten earlier in the kitchen, but no one cared. Omegas were supposed to serve, not complain. Especially orphaned ones with no family to defend them. “Elara!” someone barked behind her. She flinched instinctively. Beta Marcellus’ daughter, Fenna, glared at her from across the pavilion. “You missed a spot. Are you blind?” Elara swallowed her anger and bowed her head. “I’ll clean it, Fenna.” “Good. And hurry. You’re moving too slow tonight.” Fenna’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t want the Alpha to think omegas are lazy, do we?” Before Elara could answer, Fenna turned and walked away, her silk dress swishing dramatically behind her. Elara exhaled shakily and wiped the table again, even though it was already spotless. She knew better than to argue. One wrong word and she’d be punished — or worse, thrown out of the pack. Being an orphan already placed her on thin ice; most wolves believed she only survived because of Luna Maren’s kindness. She finished arranging the tables and stepped back, trying not to be seen. The lantern lights cast a warm glow over the festival grounds. Wolves of all ranks mingled, laughing, drinking, celebrating. Elara wished she could blend in, just once. But she didn’t belong here. She belonged behind the scenes, hidden in the shadows, where no one bothered to look at her. A soft breeze brushed her skin, carrying music and the scent of roasted meat. For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe. Maybe the night would pass quietly. Maybe— “Elara!” a sharp voice snapped again. She tensed as Fenna marched toward her. “Take these,” she ordered, shoving a tray of drinks into her hands. “Distribute them to the warriors. And keep your eyes down.” Elara obeyed, weaving through the crowd with the tray. Wolves bumped into her without apology. Others ignored her completely. A few whispered cruel remarks as she passed. “Poor little omega.” “She shouldn’t be here.” “She’s only alive because the Luna felt pity.” Elara kept her head down and forced herself not to cry. Pain was familiar. Loneliness was familiar. She could survive those things. But then something changed. A sudden hush fell over the festival grounds. The music stuttered to a stop. Lantern flames flickered violently, then steadied. Wolves looked up, confused murmurs rising among the crowd. Elara froze and followed their stares. The moon. The bright full moon — centerpiece of the Moon Festival — was turning black. Not behind clouds. Not in shadow. It was being swallowed. A thick veil of darkness crept across its surface like ink spreading through water. Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by panicked whispers. “What’s happening?” “The moon—why is it dark?” “This isn’t natural…” Elara’s heart pounded as the sky dimmed. The air grew colder. The wind stilled. Then the world fell silent. Completely, impossibly silent. Elara felt something warm bloom beneath her skin — a strange heat moving across her arm like liquid fire. She looked down. Her breath caught. A glowing silver pattern was etching itself across her forearm, swirling and twisting like ancient writing. The lines burned bright, almost too bright to look at. Elara dropped the tray with a gasp. Glasses shattered around her feet, but no one noticed. Everyone was staring at her in horror. “She’s glowing…” “What is that?” “On her skin—look!” Elara stumbled back, shaking violently. “I-I don’t know what’s happening—!” The mark pulsed again, brighter than before, casting white light onto the ground. Wolves shielded their eyes. A child screamed. Someone else shouted, “It’s a curse!” “No,” an Elder whispered, voice trembling. “It cannot be…” The moon, now fully black, hung above her like a dead thing. And as if answering its darkness, Elara’s mark flared in response. Her body felt weightless. The earth swayed beneath her feet. For a moment, she thought she would pass out. A firm hand suddenly grabbed her elbow. “Elara!” Luna Maren’s voice sliced through the chaos. The Luna pushed through the crowd, her silver gown moving like water. Her eyes widened as she saw the mark. “Mother of the Moon… it’s real.” Elara gasped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Luna—I don’t understand—I didn’t do anything—” “It’s okay,” Maren whispered, though her voice trembled. “It’s not your fault. But we must move quickly.” Alpha Rowan appeared beside the Luna, power radiating off him in waves. His sharp golden eyes locked onto Elara’s arm, and for the first time in her life, she saw fear in them. “What prophecy did we awaken?” he muttered. “This is the Celestial Mark,” Elder Theron said from behind him, breathless. “The mark from the Black Moon.” A wave of murmurs erupted. “But that’s just a legend!” “It can’t be!” “Why would it choose an omega?!” Elara felt sick. “Choose… me?” Before anyone could answer, a deep rumbling echoed across the pack lands. The ground vibrated. Wolves shifted restlessly, sensing danger approaching. The moon flickered. Then, in a burst of silent light, it returned to normal — full and bright again — as if nothing had happened. But the glowing mark on Elara’s skin remained. Alpha Rowan stepped forward. “We must take her inside. Now.” Elara tried to walk, but her legs felt weak and unsteady. Luna Maren placed a supportive arm around her. The crowd parted reluctantly. Some bowed their heads in respect. Others backed away in fear. A few glared at her with hostility — as if she had summoned darkness on purpose. As Elara was led toward the Elder Hall, she heard one voice rise above the others. “She’s dangerous.” Elara flinched. Another voice echoed, harsher. “Kill it before it kills us!” She stumbled, terror gripping her chest. Rowan turned sharply, eyes blazing. “Silence!” His Alpha command rolled through the air, forcing everyone to go still. But the damage was done. Elara realized with a sinking heart: They saw her as a threat now. A weapon. A curse. Not a person. Not an omega girl who wanted nothing more than to be invisible. Inside the Elder Hall, the doors slammed closed behind them. Lanterns flickered nervously as the Elders gathered, forming a circle around Elara. Theron stepped forward. “Child… raise your arm.” Elara lifted it with shaking hands. The mark glowed fiercely, swirling like living moonlight. The Elders inhaled sharply. “It has awakened,” Theron said. “After three centuries… the Celestial Mark has chosen its bearer.” Elara shook her head. “Please—I don’t want this. I just want to go back to the kitchens—” “No,” Rowan said gently but firmly. “You can’t return to that life. You are no longer just an omega.” Elara blinked through tears. “Then what am I?” Theron exchanged a grave look with Rowan and Maren. “You,” he said carefully, “are the Chosen.” Elara’s stomach dropped. “Chosen for what?” “To determine the fate of the wolf world,” the Elder said quietly. “To unite, or to destroy… depending on how destiny unfolds.” Elara staggered back. “No. No, I—I don’t want any of that. I can’t even defend myself. I’m nobody!” “You were nobody,” Rowan corrected. “Fate has made you someone.” Elara’s heart pounded in terror. “Alpha, please—can’t we remove it?” Theron shook his head. “The mark cannot be removed. It is bound to your soul.” A loud thud suddenly hit the hall’s outer wall. Everyone tensed. Another thud. Then a low growl. Rowan’s eyes sharpened. “Something followed the awakening.” Maren stepped closer to Elara protectively. “We need to hide her.” Theron nodded. “There is only one who can watch over her now. Only one the prophecy speaks of.” Elara looked between them. “Who?” The Elder turned toward the far corner of the hall. A tall figure stepped out of the shadows. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Cold, calculating eyes. Damian Vesper. The Alpha’s second-in-command. The Ghost Wolf. His gaze locked on Elara like she was a threat — or a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. Elara’s breath trembled. Damian approached silently, his presence so powerful the lantern flames leaned away from him. When he stopped in front of her, the mark on her arm reacted instantly — glowing brighter, pulsing faster. “What in the goddess’ name…” Elara whispered, staring at her arm. Theron exhaled. “The prophecy is clear. The Chosen will be bound to a counterpart — the one whose power balances or destroys her.” Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me…” He looked down at Elara with disbelief and something close to anger. “…that she’s mine?” Elara’s blood froze. “M-Mine?” she stammered. “I’m not— I’m not anything!” The mark burned again, reacting to his nearness. Damian stepped back as if stung. “This is a mistake,” he growled. Theron shook his head. “Fate doesn’t make mistakes.” Rowan opened his mouth to speak — but a roar shook the hall, louder than before. Then a voice from outside screamed: “They’ve breached the border!” Wolves transformed. Elders shouted. Weapons were drawn. Maren grabbed Elara’s arms. “Listen to me — whatever comes tonight, stay alive. You are too important.” The doors rattled violently, dust falling from the ceiling. Damian’s eyes hardened with reluctant responsibility. “Move. Now.” He grabbed Elara’s wrist. She gasped as heat surged through her arm again. The doors cracked. Wolves roared outside. Dark shadows pressed against the windows. Elara’s world was falling apart. She wasn’t invisible anymore. She wasn’t safe. She wasn’t ordinary. Tonight, under a blackened moon and glowing mark… Everything changed. And nothing would ever be the same again.