The Blood Moon's Betrayal

The bitter cold of Skýgarðr seeped through the cracks of the stone walls, biting into Signe’s skin as she scrubbed the floor of the great hall. Her fingers, raw and trembling, dragged the soapy rag over the uneven stone, leaving faint streaks of water in their wake. Above her, the flickering torchlight cast long shadows, distorting the faces of the mounted wolf heads that adorned the walls—a gruesome reminder of the pack’s once-glorious past. Asdis’s voice rang out, sharp and venomous. “Are you deaf, girl? I said scrub harder! You missed a spot.” Signe clenched her jaw, her shoulders trembling as she pressed the rag harder into the floor. The stench of vinegar and lye burned her nostrils. She didn’t dare look up, knowing that any glance toward her stepmother would be met with a cruel slap or worse. “You’re as useless as your father was in the end,” Asdis sneered, her voice cutting through the hall like a blade. “For all his strength, Oren couldn’t even see the dagger coming. And your precious mother—” She laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. “She was too blind with her Moon Goddess nonsense to see the betrayal in front of her.” Signe froze, her hands stilling against the stone. “Don’t,” she said quietly, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “What was that?” Asdis stepped closer, her boots clicking against the floor. The hem of her fur-lined cloak brushed against Signe’s cheek as she leaned down, her voice a low hiss. “Did you just tell me what to do, little omega?” “No, Lady Asdis,” Signe replied through gritted teeth, lowering her gaze. “Good. Because the only reason you’re still alive is because I allow it.” Asdis straightened, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves. “Now, finish your work before the evening feast. The Alpha does not tolerate delays.” Signe bit back a retort, her nails digging into her palms. The “Alpha.” Asdis always referred to herself in the third person, as if Oren’s title had been hers to inherit. Asdis might have taken Oren’s place, but she was no leader—just a parasite feeding on the remnants of what her father had built. (Flashback) The Moon hung high over the frozen hunting ground, its pale light reflecting off the blood-soaked snow. The sound of roaring filled Signe’s ears as her father’s voice cut through the chaos. The growls of wolves and the clash of fangs echoed across the icy expanse, but Sidne barely heard them. Her heart pounded as she crouched behind a jarred rock, her fingers dug into the frozen earth. They ached terribly, the open wounds on her hands thawed from the cold, but she dared not lose her grip. “Signe stay here,” Orin had commanded her before the ambush. “No matter what happens, do not move.” She nodded in response as she watched him walked into the open field, though every instinct screamed at her to run to him. From her hiding place, she could see her father, his massive silver wolf form soaring over the fray as he changed into him wolf form. His silver fur tail, a reflection of the Darius bloodline, gleamed gleaming like a beacon under the moonlight, filled her with fleeting hope. That hope faltered when she set her eyes upon his opponent. Jarl Warrick, Ravencrown. Signe didn't know much about him as he had only visited her father occasionally, but from his appearance, Signe knew that Jarl Warrick was the leader of Frostfang Clan Armies. And that he was a monster of the wolf. His coat, a mottled grey that seemed to blend into the shadows, his eyes glowed a menacing yellow, and his nose carried an almost unhinged fury. Blood stained his muzzle, not all of it from the battle– He had killed for the sake of it, revealing in the chaos. “Your reign ends here, Oren!” Warrick bellowed, circling the older Alpha like a predator savouring it's prey. His wolves– feral and unrelenting, snarled and tore through Oren's warriors, leaving a trail of destruction. “My reign will not end by the hands of a coward like you!” Orin growled back, his voice calm but full of venom. He lunged at Warrick. Their bodies collided with a bone-jarring impact. Young Signe in her hiding place, shut her eyes. Her lips whispered in silent prayers for protection from Lord Odin. She exhaled with a sigh, watching the two fight. The two Alphas clashed violently, their fangs snapped and claws raked through fur and flesh. Thick velvet blood spray and spread over the white snow. Orin's strength was unmatched. His movements precise and calculated, but Warrick fought with a savagery that seemed almost supernatural. Each time Orin landed a blow, Warrick returned a ten-fold, fued by an insatiable bloodlust. From her hiding place, Sidne clutched the edges of the rock so tightly that her torn fingers bled anew. Her breath came in shallow gasps as tears blurred her vision. She wanted to cry, to scream for the moon goddess to save them, but she beat down on her lip until she tasted blood, unable to find the words. “This is your fault,” a voice whispered in her mind. “If you were stronger, you could help him. If you weren't so weak..” a thought twisted her stomach, but she couldn't look away. She watched as Oren dodged a vicious swipe from Warrick, only to be tackled from the side by one of Warrick's wolves. Oren's silver fur was soon matted with blood. His movement grew slower as the battle dragged on. “Enough games!” Warrick roared, shaking off an injured warrior who dared to challenge him. He lunged at Oren with a feral snare he just locked into Oren's shoulder. In a big chew, Oren hauled in pain, but it didn't falter. Summoning the last of his strength, he twisted and clamped his teeth around Warrick's throat. The two alphas grappled, their snarls and growls blending into a symphony of violence. “Please, father,” Signe whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the battle. She couldn't stop the tears now, even as she beat down on her trembling lips to keep herself from sobbing. Her body shook, the pain in her hands and the ache in her chest threatened to overwhelm her. Yet, it happened. Warrick, using his brute strength, slammed Oren into the frozen ground. With a sinking thud, Oren's sliver form went limp for a heartbeat too long. Then, Warrick wasted no time. With a triumphant snare, he sank his fang deep into Oren's throat, dipping away any chance of survival. “No!” Signe screamed. Her voice broke as the world around her seemed to collapse. Her tears fell freely now. Her hands gripped the snow as though she would somehow claw her way to him. Oren's body stilled, the glow in its silver eyes faded like the last embers of a dying flame. Warrick turned to his human form as his blood-stricken lips pulled into a twisted grin. "Let this be a message to all who oppose us!" He howled. His voice filled with triumph as he spit out blood on Oren's body he wiped off his mouth with his right hand, signalling his wolves to move on. Signe's nails crept against the frozen ground. Her body trembled with grief and rage. Her father was gone, and her world would never be the same. But even as her tears fell, a sparkle ignited deep within her, a quiet desperate revolve. She would not forget this, and she would not forgive. (Present) Signe’s chest heaved as she scrubbed the floor harder, the memories burning behind her eyes. She would never forget the look on her father’s face in his final moments—nor the gleam of satisfaction in Asdis’s eyes as she got crowned in her late father's place. A sharp kick to her ribs sent her sprawling across the wet stone. Pain shot through her side as she gasped for breath. “Did I say you could stop?” Asdis’s voice was ice. “No, Lady Asdis,” Signe managed, clutching her side as she forced herself back to her knees. “Good. Then remember your place,” Asdis said, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “And don’t even think about eating tonight. Omega filth like you should be grateful to even have a roof over your head.” Signe watched her stepmother leave, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She pressed her hand to her ribs, the ache a sharp reminder of her reality. She might have been born of Alpha blood, but in Asdis’s eyes, she was nothing more than a servant—a shadow of her parents’ disgrace. But deep inside her, a spark refused to die. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. “One day, Asdis will regret this. One day, I’ll prove I am more than what they see.” That day was not today. But Signe Darius would wait.