Changing Destiny

Whispers of War

The whispers started subtly, like the rustle of dry leaves in a graveyard wind. At first, they were dismissed as the usual grumbling of disgruntled vampires, the age-old complaints about power imbalances and perceived slights. But as the days bled into nights, the whispers coalesced into a tangible threat, a growing murmur that echoed throughout Damaris’s clan. The topic: destiny.

A storm of Lamonte's fury, ignited by Destiny's treachery and his imminent attack on the nocturnal predators, vibrated through Damaris's sanctuary. The sweet fragrance of jasmine was suffocated by a palpable stench of dread. Damaris perceived the chilling metamorphosis: former comrades regarded him with distrust, while foes gleamed with ravenous expectation. His shielding of Destiny was now interpreted as a profound act of disloyalty. With Destiny standing defiantly at his side, Damaris convened his entire pack, facing the torrent of accusations regarding his decision to harbor and defend her—a werewolf, a sworn adversary.

"Darmaris," Lord Valone began, his voice low and measured, " I think I speak for the coven when I ask...why do you keep this... *pet* in your home? She is a werewolf, an enemy to all we hold dear."

"She is my mate, Valone."

"Your mate? A werewolf? The very thought is abhorrent." Lady Isabelle's voice held a note of icy disdain. She was a distant cousin of Damaris.

"Abhorrent, perhaps, but undeniable. Destiny is bound to me. Her blood cries out to me as your own mate is eager for yours. I do not understand it, but in time, I am sure it will be revealed how this is possible, but I will not give her up. Our mate is a bond that cannot be broken."

"Bond's can be suppressed, Lord Darmaris. Bound. Even destroyed." This from Lucian, his tone laced with a dangerous patience. Lucian was a vampire within his clan that looked for any advantage to undermine Damaris. Damaris bloodlust pressured him to give way, if only for a moment, but he controlled it.

"This bond is different. It is... a blessing. The moon itself has chosen her for me."

"A blessing? A werewolf blessing? This is madness, Darmaris. You risk everything by harboring her." Valone's voice was edged with concern, bordering on accusation.

"This isn't a strategic alliance or a twisted game of power. She is my life, and she is also a part of me."

"Yet, she is still a werewolf," Isolde insisted, "capable of the most terrible savagery. How can you trust her?"

"Trust is earned, Isolde, not dictated by blood or lineage. I have already looked through her memories. She is a good person. Destiny has proven her loyalty, her courage, her... her compassion. These qualities are not defined by her species."

"But her nature remains," Lucian pressed, "inherent, unavoidable."

"Her nature is as complex as any of ours, and perhaps more so. We judge her based on the prejudices of centuries, not on the individual she is. This bond isn't just a matter of love; it’s a fundamental shift in my own being."

"And yet, she remains a threat," Valone stated, the weight of his words heavy with unspoken concerns.

"A threat to whom? To us? Or to herself, caught in the conflict between her nature and my love for her?" Darmaris’s voice was quiet but strong, his words carrying the burden of his decision.

Silence fell, heavy and profound, the unspoken questions hanging in the air, unanswered yet somehow understood. Suddenly Destiny spoke out.

" I know I am not wanted here. I see the disdain on your faces. The look of hatred amongst some of you for simply being what I am," she spoke out before stepping down and standing in the middle of the crowd. Some hissed as she approached but listened.

" I am not your enemy. Nor will I ever be. I don't know how I ended up mated to Damaris. Or why my blood chose your species to mate with. When I first came here, I came here to die. I was betrayed by my own species. Read me, all of you. I know your abilities; let you read every part of my life. I have nothing to lie about, nor do I wish to cause any harm to any of you. I can tell you all have a great coven leader, and I only ask that you do not hold my own nature against me but allow me to serve this coven by Damaris's side. It won't be easy, and it certainly won't be done in one night. It will take time. It will take work, but we can make this work. I truly believe that, just as I believe in you. I will never betray the trust of this coven, as I am now apart of it, whether I like it or not. The moon has put us together, and I refuse to go back on the blessing bestowed from her.

Damaris, ever so proud of his mate, looked at each of his coven members as they read her. Some of his coven seemed to have softened their faces, understanding betrayal of a mate themselves, while others he could see did not care. They would be harder to let go of their hate for Destiny.

"That concludes this meeting," Damaris said, appearing at Destiny's side and embracing her. Some hisses were heard but ignored. Some of the ones more sympathetic to Destiny stayed behind. They kept a short distance. Still not fully trusting, but wanting to make a better impression, and apologized for not meeting her sooner. They welcomed her to the clan, introduced themselves, and then left. Damaris felt pride for his members and his mate as well.

"I am very proud of you, beloved," Damaris spoke, kissing her head.

One evening, during a rare moment of quiet intimacy—a hand brushing against hers across the table, a shared look filled with unspoken longing—Damaris broke the silence. His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air.

"He is coming, destiny," he said, his blue eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "Even from here, I can hear his thoughts. Lamonte is not one to let go. He will stop at nothing to reclaim you and have you imprisoned for leaving him."

Destiny, her hazel eyes wide with a mixture of fear and defiance, nodded slowly. She had known this was coming. The betrayal she had suffered, the violent upheaval in her life, had set in motion a chain of events that threatened to consume everything. The war wasn't merely a conflict between vampires and werewolves; it was a battle for her and her choice to abandon Lamonte and her pack.

"We have to fight," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The statement hung in the air, unanswered, a silent acknowledgement of the enormity of the situation. The weight of the impending war settled upon them, a suffocating blanket of impending doom.

Damaris rose, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the small courtyard. He paced restlessly, his mind racing, calculating strategies, weighing options. He could try to negotiate with Lamonte, to reason with him, but he knew the Alpha's pride was too wounded, his obsession too deep. A peaceful resolution was highly unlikely.

"I will protect you," he declared, his voice firm and resolute. "But we need to prepare. We need to strengthen our defenses and rally our allies."

The following days were a blur of frantic activity. Damaris, utilizing his considerable influence and power, mobilized his resources, gathering allies and preparing for the inevitable conflict. He worked tirelessly, his energy boundless, his determination fueled by a love that defied the ancient hatred between their species. He forged alliances with other clans, securing support from those willing to risk their necks for the sake of Damaris and, indirectly, his powerful and defiant mate.

Destiny wasn't idle either. She used her knowledge of werewolf tactics and her own innate abilities to assist Damaris and his coven, offering insights and contributing her unique perspective to the preparations. She had been underestimated and taken for granted, and she was ready to prove her worth, to fight for her own survival and for the man she was rapidly falling in love with.

The preparations were tense, fraught with the ever-present shadow of fear and uncertainty. Each night, the whispers of war grew louder, fueled by the sight of werewolf packs on the horizon, their menacing presence a constant reminder of the approaching conflict. The blood moon, a malevolent presence in the night sky, hung like a morbid omen, casting long, distorted shadows across the landscape.

Within Damaris’s clan, the divisions deepened. The vampires who supported Damaris’s decision to protect Destiny were seen as traitors. Destiny made a few friends among them. They endured scorn, threats, and even physical assaults from those who believed Damaris's actions were weakening their ranks and inviting unnecessary conflict. The fragile peace within the clan hung by a thread.

As the time for Lamonte’s attack drew near, the city fell under palpable tension, a grim expectation of violence. The once-vibrant nightlife became subdued, replaced by an eerie silence punctuated only by the distant howls of werewolves and the hushed whispers of fear.

One night, a particularly loyal and trusted vampire lieutenant approached Damaris. "Lord Damaris," he began, his voice low and urgent, "Lamonte's forces are stronger than we anticipated. He’s brought in allies, creatures we never even imagined. There are ancient beings fighting alongside him. We may be outnumbered."

Damaris listened, his face grim, his jaw clenched. He knew the risks and had calculated them meticulously. But his resolve remained unshaken. He looked at Destiny, who stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm, her eyes reflecting his own determination. They were fighting for survival, for each other, for the chance of a future together, a future that seemed increasingly improbable with every passing hour. The full moon hung heavy.