Between The Moon and The Alpha

The Moon Decides.

Harriet walked beside her mother in silence, the cobbled path to the city's plaza lit with silver lanterns and the hush of anticipation. Their robes swished with every step. The Calling Ceremony was being held at the very heart of the City—a sacred plateau where the Moon was said to shine brightest and the Bloodstone pulsed with ancient memory.

They reached the edge of the ceremonial platform, and Harriet's mother turned to her. Her voice was calm but certain.

"See you soon," she said. "We’ll be home before the candles burn out. Without a doubt."

Harriet gave a small nod, clenching her jaw and staring at the moon, then stepped away to join the other Lunars gathered in the lower crescent of the audience. Her mother walked forward, towards the Bloodstone.

Members of the council were already

seated. Three Alphas occupied the central seats — Lord Caithe, ever-silent and silver-haired; Varka, the stone-faced former general; and Maelin, the youngest among them, eyes always calculating. Their presence alone hushed the air.

Beside them sat a Beta councillor in copper-threaded robes — Sabata. Sharp-eyed, smooth-voiced, and endlessly persuasive. She was known for her cold logic and her loyalty to structure. Her expression was unreadable.

The Alphas stood high above them on the ridge. The Betas gathered proudly on the left side of the platform. The Omegas flanked the right. The Lunars filled the centre.

The moon was high.

Harriet’s mother raised her hands.

"We gather under the Moon," she began, her voice ringing out clearly, "in the sacred city of Lycan Crest — the seat of our traditions, the heart of our unity — to honour the tradition that binds us and to welcome those willing to rise beyond their castes. The Bloodstone will reveal the names of those chosen for Alpha training. It is the Moon who calls. And we listen."

A hush fell over the crowd.

She turned to the basin of silver water and poured it into the crescent groove beneath the Bloodstone. Steam rose in pale spirals. The stone pulsed. A silver glow formed at its centre.

Letters bloomed in the air.

Harriet Thorne, of the Lunar caste.

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

Harriet froze.

The Lunar girl beside her turned, wide-eyed. "You submitted your name? But... you're a Lunar girl."

"Priestess Theora's daughter?"

Murmurs exploded around them. Shock. Confusion. Disbelief.

Harriet stood slowly, every movement thick with weight. All eyes turned.

Her mother remained at the Bloodstone, still and quiet. Then she raised her voice:

"Silence. The Moon is not yet done."

The murmurs faded. The Bloodstone pulsed again. Another name appeared in silver light.

Rhett Valen, of the Beta caste.

One by one, the names followed. Elira Zed. Marlo Fen. Casian Rho. Nyra Vess. Seth Tain. Keren Lyle. Juno Tas.

Nine in all.

When the final name faded, Harriet’s mother turned and descended the steps, joining the council at their stone seats. The Bloodstone dimmed.

Lord Caithe stood.

"The nine chosen will now be given five minutes to speak with their families. After which, you will be escorted to the Alpha Training Gate."

The crowd stirred. Movement. Whispers.

Harriet stood at the edge of the platform, searching.

Her mother was seated with the council, her head turned, engaged in hushed conversation.

She wasn’t looking.

Harriet waited. And waited.

Then her mother turned.

For one moment, their eyes met.

Harriet began to step forward—but a voice called out: "Chosen, to the gate!"

The Alphas had already begun to move. The other eight chosen were gathering.

Everything happened fast.

Harriet was swept forward with the group, feet stumbling, robe trailing behind her. They crossed through the crowd, through a stone arch, and into the path leading up the side of the plaza.

The night wind howled. The mountain loomed.

They were jogging now, guided by silent Alpha attendants.

At the foot of the ridge, the path turned upward. A steep climb. Stone steps carved into ancient earth.

Beyond the climb, hidden behind the mountain wall, lay the Alpha Training Grounds.

One of the Alpha attendants stepped forward, his voice sharp and sure.

"From here, you climb. This is your first test. Only those who reach the top will be permitted into the Alpha Training Grounds."

The chosen exchanged uncertain looks.

Harriet looked up and hesitated. Rhett has already started climbing. She takes a deep breath.

"This is how things work here", she told herself.

And she climbed.

The trail up the mountain was brutal. Narrow stone steps cut through jagged rock, each one higher and rougher than the last. The Alpha officials who led the way moved like it was nothing, barely winded. Behind them, the chosen struggled.

Harriet fell behind almost immediately. Her lungs burned. Her legs shook. The hem of her robe caught on thorny roots and sharp stone. Every few steps, she stumbled, scraped her hands, bit back tears.

Rhett climbed just ahead of her, focused and fast, barely glancing back. One of the boys from the Beta caste chuckled under his breath as Harriet tripped for the third time.

"Should’ve stayed with your mummy," he muttered.

She ignored him. She kept moving.

Blood welled on her palms. Her knees were raw. Her breath came in short, painful gasps. But she didn’t stop.

By the time she reached the top, the others were already waiting, their eyes turned toward the horizon.

Harriet stood at the crest, chest heaving, clothes streaked with dirt and blood.

And then she saw it.

The Alpha Training Grounds spread out before her like something from a story. Stone towers rose from the mountain shelf, silver flags snapped in the wind, training arenas etched into the cliffs, and a vast hall glowing from within with firelight and shadow.

It was real. It was terrifying. It was beautiful.

And somehow, despite everything, she had made it there.

This was the beginning.