Marked By The Midnight Alpha

The prophecy Awakens

The council chamber was silent—too silent—except for the faint crackling of the torches mounted on the stone walls. Elara stood in the center, her hands trembling, the sleeve of her torn festival tunic pushed up to reveal the symbol still glowing faintly on her forearm. She had scrubbed at it until her skin went raw, hoping it was dirt, paint, anything.

But it didn’t fade.

The elders circled her like she was some cursed relic dug up from the afterlife. Their shadows stretched across the floor, long and eerie, as if even the firelight didn’t want to touch her.

“Turn your arm,” Elder Mora ordered, her voice sharp as winter frost.

Elara swallowed hard and obeyed. The moment her mark caught the torchlight, Elder Fenrik—the oldest, with a beard white as snow—took a shaky step back.

“Spirits save us,” he whispered. “It cannot be.”

Elara’s heart pounded. “Please… what is it?”

But no one answered right away. They simply stared. Some with fear. Some with disgust. Some with the kind of alarm that made her knees weaken.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. Omegas never stood in the council chamber. They served from the shadows, invisible. Silent. Unimportant.

But now, somehow, she had become the center of their world.

Mora finally exhaled. “Fetch the ancient codex.”

A young gamma rushed out. Moments later he returned carrying a large black-bound book, so old the leather was cracked like dragon scales. Fenrik opened it with reverence, flipping through brittle pages marked with symbols and warnings.

Elara’s pulse raced.

They’re acting like I’m some kind of demon.

Fenrik stopped on a page and slowly lifted his eyes to her. “Child,” he said, voice grave, “do you understand what you carry?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know why it appeared. I didn’t do anything.”

“No one does anything to earn this,” Mora muttered. “It chooses.”

Fenrik turned the book so the council could see the illustrated page—a drawing of the same symbol on her arm: a crescent moon split in two, wrapped in swirling shadows.

Gasps filled the chamber.

“That’s impossible.”

“It disappeared centuries ago!”

“The Midnight Mark was destroyed!”

Destroyed? No—sealed, Fenrik corrected.

“It was never destroyed,” he said. “Only hidden by the Moon Goddess after the war. And now…” His eyes lowered to Elara. “…it awakens.”

Her blood turned to ice.

“Please,” she whispered, “tell me what it means.”

Fenrik ran a trembling finger over the ancient ink. “This is the Midnight Mark, child. A prophecy-mark. It appeared only once before, three hundred years ago, during the Reign of Shadows.”

Elara felt the room tilt. She had heard whispers of that dark era—wolves disappearing, packs falling, an Alpha who turned entire forests to ash. A legend. A bedtime warning.

“Why on me?” she breathed.

Mora answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because the mark binds itself to the wolf destined to connect with the darkest Alpha alive.”

Elara blinked. “What? That makes no sense. I don’t even know any Alphas.”

Fenrik sighed heavily. “It is not about who you know. It is about destiny. The mark links the bearer to an Alpha whose power has reached a dangerous extreme. A wolf whose soul teeters between greatness… and ruin.”

Elara shook vigorously. “I want nothing to do with that.”

Mora’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Destiny doesn’t ask what you want.”

Elara flinched, tears burning her eyes.

Another elder stepped closer, narrowing his eyes at her mark. “If the Midnight Mark has chosen her, then the prophecy is already in motion. The Alpha it seeks will soon feel the pull.”

Elara wrapped her arm around herself protectively.

“Can’t you remove it?” she whispered desperately.

Fenrik’s face softened—not with kindness, but pity. “If we try to remove it… you will die.”

Her breath hitched. She stumbled backward, hitting the edge of the stone table.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” she cried. “Everyone at the festival saw it. I’ll be treated like a curse.”

Mora didn’t deny it. “Rumors are already spreading.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“No bearer ever did,” Fenrik murmured.

Elder Rune, the only one known for his temper, growled, “The Alpha bound to her—whoever he is—will become obsessed. The mark drives darkness. Madness. War. What if the prophecy repeats itself? What if she brings another Shadow Alpha to power?”

The word Shadow Alpha made Elara’s stomach knot.

“Are you saying,” she whispered, “that I could destroy everything?”

Rune folded his arms. “Or he could destroy you.”

Mora slammed her staff against the ground. “Enough fearmongering. The child is terrified.”

“She should be!” Rune barked.

Elara’s breath grew uneven. Everything was spinning. Voices blurred together—accusations, panic, prophecy, war. She felt like she was drowning in words she didn’t understand.

Then the door burst open.

Everyone turned as Alpha Rowan, the reigning Alpha of the Crescent Moon Pack, strode inside. His shoulders were tense, his jaw rigid, his eyes burning with something between anger and worry.

“Elara,” he said sharply, “you were supposed to stay in your quarters.”

She tried to speak, but the elders answered for her.

“She bears the Midnight Mark,” Fenrik said.

Rowan’s expression shattered into shock. “No. That’s impossible.”

He crossed the room in three strides and seized her wrist—not roughly, just firmly enough to see the mark clearly. The moment his gaze landed on it, he inhaled sharply.

“What happened to you?” he murmured.

She looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know.”

He turned to the elders. “Explain.”

Fenrik closed the codex. “The Midnight Mark has returned.”

Rowan shook his head. “The Shadow prophecy was sealed. My father—”

“Your father was misinformed,” Rune cut in. “The seal weakens when darkness rises. Somewhere, an Alpha has crossed the threshold. And now the mark seeks him.”

Rowan’s jaw flexed. “Are you saying a threat big enough to awaken a three-century-old curse is alive right now?”

Fenrik nodded grimly. “Yes.”

Rowan’s grip tightened protectively on Elara’s wrist.

“And you’re saying she”—he motioned to Elara—“is tied to this threat?”

“Yes,” Mora confirmed.

Elara’s voice cracked. “Please… I don’t want to be part of any prophecy. I just want to be normal.”

Rowan looked at her for a long moment, unreadable emotions flickering in his eyes.

“You were never meant to be normal,” he said softly.

Her heart stuttered.

Fenrik cleared his throat. “Alpha Rowan, we must decide what is to be done. The mark will draw attention—from allies, enemies, and the Alpha it seeks. We must prepare.”

Rune snorted. “Prepare? We should hide her. Or better yet—send her away. The farther, the better.”

Elara froze. “Send me away?”

“Your presence could endanger the entire pack,” Rune said bluntly.

Rowan took a threatening step toward him. “She is one of mine. She doesn’t leave this territory unless I say so.”

Rune raised a brow. “Are you protecting an omega out of duty… or something else?”

Rowan’s fists clenched, but he didn’t answer.

Elara’s thoughts spiraled. She had always been invisible, unwanted, a servant, a burden. Now suddenly she was dangerous? Valuable? Hunted?

“Alpha Rowan,” Mora said, “until we identify the Alpha she’s tied to, she must remain under watch.”

“You want to imprison me?” Elara whispered, horror creeping in.

“No,” Rowan said firmly before any elder could respond. “She’ll stay in the Alpha wing. Under my protection.”

Gasps erupted around the room.

“You would put her there?” Rune scoffed.

“Yes,” Rowan growled. “Because there is no safer place in this pack.”

Elara’s lungs constricted. “I don’t want to go there. People already hate me. They’ll kill me.”

“They won’t touch you,” Rowan said, eyes burning with promise. “Not while I breathe.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

Fenrik closed the ancient book. “Very well. But remember this—once the Alpha she’s tied to senses the mark, he will come. Either for her… or for war.”

The torches flickered violently, as if reacting to the word.

War.

Rowan’s expression darkened. “Then let him try.”

Mora tapped her staff again. “We must monitor the mark. It may evolve. Change shape. Burn. Influence her emotions. The Midnight Mark is not passive.”

Elara’s fear skyrocketed. “Influence me how?”

Fenrik avoided her eyes. “Dreams. Visions. Pulls of instinct. You may feel drawn toward the Alpha bound to you. Or repelled. Both are dangerous.”

Rowan exhaled sharply. “Enough. She’s overwhelmed.”

Fenrik nodded sadly. “As she should be. The prophecy has awakened.”

Rowan wrapped a steadying hand around her shoulder. “Elara, come with me.”

“But—”

“You’re not staying here another minute.”

The council didn’t argue. They simply watched, wary, fearful, whispering behind their hands as Rowan led her out of the chamber, his body shielding hers from every stare.

The hallway outside was quiet, lit only by moonlight filtering through narrow windows. Rowan didn’t speak for several steps, giving her time to breathe. Or try to.

Finally, she whispered, “Why are you helping me?”

He stopped walking and turned to her.

“Because you’re not a curse, Elara,” he said. “And I won’t let them treat you like one.”

She looked away, tears pricking. “Everyone will blame me.”

“They can blame me first.”

She blinked up at him, startled.

Rowan softened his voice. “You’ve lived your whole life being treated like you’re nothing. But this mark… it’s made you the center of a story bigger than any of them understand.”

“I don’t want a story.”

“Want it or not,” he said gently, “you’re in it.”

Her throat tightened.

He stepped closer. “And I’ll make sure you survive it.”

She didn’t know why those words made something warm unfurl in her chest. Maybe because no one had ever said anything like that to her.

Not once in her life.

As they approached the Alpha wing, she glanced at the windows—the moon still glowing bright and full. But behind it, she felt something… strange. Like a second heartbeat vibrating in her bones.

She shivered.

“What is it?” Rowan asked.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I just… feel like something is watching me.”

Rowan’s eyes darkened with determination. “Then let it look. Because it won’t touch you.”

But as Elara stepped inside the Alpha wing, her mark warmed—just slightly, like a whisper of heat under her skin.

A warning.

A calling.

A bond awakening across the night.

Somewhere far beyond their territory, in a land she had never seen, an Alpha paused mid-hunt, breathing in sharply as if he sensed something.

Something binding.

Something inevitable.

Something her.

And with a slow, dangerous smile, he whispered into the darkness:

“Finally.”