Chapter 2:The Table and The Floor
1303 Words
Chapter 2 The Table and the Floor
The path from the festival grounds to the Alpha estate wound through the dark forest like a narrow scar in the earth.
Lyra walked it alone.
The distant drums had faded behind her now, replaced by the quiet sounds of the mountain night.
Crickets chirped in the tall grass.
Branches creaked gently overhead.
Somewhere far away, a wolf howled.
A long, mournful sound that echoed across the valley.
Lyra kept her eyes on the path.
She had walked this trail thousands of times before. Every stone and crooked root was familiar. Even in the dark she knew where to step.
Still, the forest always felt different at night.
Larger.
Deeper.
Watching.
The strange warmth she had felt earlier still lingered faintly beneath her skin. Not painful. Just…present. Like tiny sparks buried in her veins.
She rubbed her arms as she walked.
It would probably fade.
Things always did.
The Alpha estate soon appeared through the trees.
It sat high on the ridge overlooking the valley—an enormous stone structure built from dark mountain rock. Tall towers rose from its corners, their windows glowing softly with torchlight.
The Blackrock banner hung over the entrance.
A black wolf howling beneath a silver moon.
Home.
Lyra climbed the final stone steps slowly.
The massive wooden doors were already open, servants moving in and out carrying trays and pitchers.
Dinner had begun.
She slipped quietly inside.
The Alpha’s Hall was enormous.
Long wooden tables stretched across the chamber, each one lined with pack members enjoying the late meal after the festival. Laughter and conversation filled the air, blending with the clatter of plates and the crackle of the massive hearth at the far end of the room.
The smell of roasted venison made Lyra’s stomach twist painfully.
At the center of the hall stood the Alpha table.
Raised slightly above the others.
Reserved for the ruling family.
Alpha Magnus—known formally within the hall by his ancestral name, Alpha Brutus—sat at the head of the table.
The ceremonial cloak was gone now, replaced by a heavy black tunic. His sleeves were rolled up slightly as he leaned forward with a carving knife in hand.
Before him rested a massive roasted stag.
Golden juices ran across the platter as he sliced into the meat with practiced precision.
Kael sat at his right.
Vespera at his left.
Both of them were still glowing from the attention they had received at the festival.
“You should have seen the look on Elder Varos’ face,” Kael was saying proudly.
“He said my aura already feels like an Alpha’s.”
Brutus grunted approvingly as he carved a thick slice of meat.
“He’s right.”
Kael straightened proudly.
Vespera leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.
“And three different families approached Mother tonight about alliances,” she added smoothly.
Her smile sparkled.
“They seemed very interested.”
Lunara sat beside her, elegant and poised as always.
“Of course they were,” she said calmly.
“You represent the future of this pack.”
Brutus placed a generous slab of meat onto Kael’s plate.
“Strength attracts strength.”
He cut another thick slice for Vespera.
The knife glided through the meat easily.
Lyra stood quietly near the doorway.
No one looked at her.
A servant noticed her eventually and jerked their chin toward the far corner of the hall.
Lyra nodded silently and walked there.
The corner was near the wall where the torchlight didn’t quite reach.
A small wooden crate sat beside a stack of empty barrels.
Waiting for her.
She lowered herself onto the cold stone floor.
The chill seeped through the thin fabric of her clothes instantly.
A servant passed by and dropped a chipped wooden bowl beside her.
Inside was thin broth.
Two pieces of stale bread floated on the surface.
Lyra picked it up carefully.
Her fingers were still numb from washing dishes earlier.
Across the hall, Kael laughed loudly at something Vespera said.
Lyra dipped the bread into the broth.
It softened slightly.
Good enough.
She took a bite.
The sound of knives scraping plates echoed from the Alpha table.
Brutus cut another slice of meat.
Kael’s plate was already half empty.
“You fought well tonight,” Brutus said.
Kael grinned.
“Did you see the way Rylan backed down when I shifted?”
“I did.”
A rare note of pride colored Brutus’ voice.
Vespera lifted her wine cup gracefully.
“And my performance impressed the council elders.”
Lunara nodded.
“They mentioned your elegance.”
Lyra listened quietly from the corner.
She always listened.
Not because she wanted to.
Because it reminded her where she stood.
Far away from the table.
Far away from the warmth.
Vespera suddenly glanced across the hall.
Her eyes landed on Lyra.
For a brief moment, the sisters’ gazes met.
Vespera’s lips curved slowly.
That familiar smile.
Sweet.
Beautiful.
Cruel.
She picked up a piece of roasted meat from her plate.
The scent drifted across the hall.
Lyra’s stomach twisted painfully.
Vespera lifted the piece casually.
Then—
“Oh.”
The meat slipped from her fingers.
It fell to the floor.
Right in front of the Alpha table.
Lyra instinctively shifted forward.
Just a little.
But before she could move another inch—
A blur of fur shot across the floor.
SNAP.
The guard dog swallowed the meat in a single bite.
The massive wolfhound sat proudly beside the table again, tail wagging.
A few wolves nearby chuckled.
Kael smirked.
Vespera covered her mouth politely.
“Oh dear,” she said.
“How clumsy of me.”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Lyra.
Still smiling.
Lyra slowly leaned back against the wall.
She dipped another piece of stale bread into the broth.
Across the hall, Brutus barely reacted.
He simply continued carving.
As if nothing had happened.
As if Lyra didn’t exist.
Dinner continued.
Conversation flowed.
Wine was poured.
The hall was warm and bright and full of life.
Except for the cold corner.
Lyra finished the last of her broth quietly.
The bowl was nearly empty when a soft voice spoke behind her.
“You’ll catch a cold sitting there.”
Lyra turned.
Her grandmother stood in the shadows near the barrels.
Mona Blackrock was small and slightly hunched with age, her long silver hair braided down her back.
But her eyes were still sharp.
Still strong.
The only eyes in this house that ever looked at Lyra with warmth.
“I’m fine,” Lyra said softly.
Mona crouched slowly beside her.
Her joints creaked a little.
“You shouldn’t be eating scraps.”
Lyra gave a small shrug.
“It’s enough.”
Elda studied the nearly empty bowl.
Then she quietly slipped something from her sleeve.
A small piece of warm bread.
Still soft.
Still fresh.
She placed it gently in Lyra’s hand.
Lyra blinked.
“You’ll get in trouble.”
The old woman smiled faintly.
“I’ve survived eighty winters, child.”
She leaned closer.
“Let them try.”
Lyra bit into the bread slowly.
Warm.
Soft.
Real food.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
Across the hall, Brutus’ deep voice rose again.
“The migration begins in three days,” he announced.
The room quieted.
All wolves listened when the Alpha spoke.
“We move north through the old ruins.”
A few murmurs spread across the tables.
Those ruins were ancient.
Dangerous.
Lyra swallowed her bread.
A strange shiver ran through her spine.
Something about those words felt…
Important.
Mona noticed her expression.
“What is it?”
Lyra shook her head.
“Nothing.”
But deep down, something flickered again.
The same warmth from earlier.
Small. Hidden. Like a spark waiting for air.
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