03: THE REMINDER
1442 Words
The throne hall of Hanmok City smelled of iron, and smoke. Not from fire.. but from war.
The massive chamber was carved from dark stone, pillars shaped like towering wolves frozen mid-howl. Torches burned along the walls, their flames bending in the draft that slipped through arrow slits high above.
At the far end, upon a raised dais, sat the Alpha of Hanmok.
Below him knelt warriors still streaked with drying blood from the Eastern Gate. No one dared speak first. The silence was heavier than armor.
Captain Ryvek stood among them, shoulder freshly bandaged, and lowered his chin. The sting of his wound pulsed with every heartbeat, but he did not flinch. Pain was expected. Weakness was not.
At last, the Alpha rose.
When he stood, the entire hall seemed to shrink.
"You were tested...”
His voice rolled across stone like distant thunder.
“And you answered with blood.” a murmur of pride stirred among the kneeling warriors.
The Alpha descended the dais slowly, boots echoing against the floor. His long dark hair was still damp from washing away battle grime, yet a faint crimson stain lingered along his jawline as if the war itself refused to leave him.
“Danver did not come to conquer,” he continued. “They came to measure.”
His golden eyes scanned each warrior one by one.
“They will return.”
A younger soldier swallowed audibly. The Alpha stopped before him.
“Look at me.”
The soldier obeyed instantly.
“Why do we fight?”
The answer came shaky at first. “To defend Hanmok people and the city... Alpha.”
The Alpha’s gaze hardened. “No.”
The word struck harder than a slap.
“We fight,” he said, voice lowering, “because Danver believes they are superior. They hide behind strategy and council chambers while calling us beasts.”
His lip curled faintly.
“They believe mercy is strength.”
He turned away, pacing.
“I will remind them... what strength truly is.”
The torches flickered as if in agreement.
Ryvek finally spoke. “Alpha... their formation shifted quickly. Their Beta commanded retreat with precision. They lost fewer men than expected.”
The Alpha paused mid-step.
“Yes.”
A dangerous smile formed.
“That is why this was not victory.”
The room stilled.
“Victory,” he said, “is not surviving the attack.”
He turned, eyes blazing.
“Victory is making them fear crossing our border again.”
A heavy silence followed.
“We will not wait for Danver’s next move.”
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
The Alpha climbed back onto the dais and faced them all.
“Prepare the Western battalion. Double patrols along the river line. Reinforce the Eastern Gate with ironwood and stone.”
His voice sharpened.
“And send word to every household.”
The warriors straightened.
“Training resumes at dawn... even for civilians.”
A few human advisers standing near the columns exchanged uneasy glances.
The Alpha noticed.
His stare pinned them in place.
“Hanmok survives because every man, woman, and child understands one truth.”
He stepped forward, hands gripping the arms of his throne.
“Peace is weakness.”
The words hung in the air like a blade.
“Compassion invites invasion.”
His jaw tightened.
“Danver pretends to seek balance. But balance is a lie told by those afraid to dominate.”
A low growl of agreement rose from the warriors.
The Alpha raised his hand, silencing them.
“I will remind Danver what happens when they provoke Hanmok.”
He looked toward the massive doors of the hall, toward the direction of the Eastern Gate.
“Blood will not only stain our walls...”
His eyes darkened.
“It will flood theirs.”
The declaration ignited a roar among the kneeling wolves. But not everyone roared.
At the back of the hall stood a young woman clad in dark training leathers, arms crossed over her chest. Her black hair was tied tightly at the nape of her neck. Her eyes burned with a fire that matched the torches.
Lyara.
Daughter of the Alpha. She did not kneel, she only watched. When the warriors were dismissed, the chamber slowly emptied until only she remained.
Her father noticed.
“You disapprove.”
It was not a question. Lyara approached the dais, boots echoing in the vast hall.
“I question,” she replied evenly.
The Alpha studied her. "Speak.”
She lifted her chin. “If Danver wanted war today, they would have stayed.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
“They retreated because they could not break us.”
“Or,” she countered carefully, “because they gained what they needed.”
The torches crackled. The Alpha descended again, stopping inches from her.
“You doubt our strength.”
“I doubt their weakness.”
For a moment, father and daughter stood locked in silent battle.
“You think like Danver,” he said quietly.
Her jaw tightened.
“I think like a warrior.”
His gaze softened for a fraction of a second, pride hidden beneath severity.
“You will lead the second line at the next engagement.”
Lyara did not hesitate. "I will.”
“And you will show them,” he continued, voice low and fierce, “why Hanmok’s bloodline does not bend.”
A shadow crossed her expression.
“Bloodlines do not win wars forever.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean by that?”
She hesitated. For just a moment... doubt flickered in her gaze.
“There are whispers,” she said. “Among rogues. Among scouts.”
The Alpha’s body went rigid.
“What whispers.”
“A child born under twin moons.”
The temperature in the hall seemed to drop.
“A prophecy,” she finished.
Silence swallowed the chamber.
The Alpha turned away sharply.
“Old stories.”
“They say the child will unite what war divided.”
He spun back toward her.
“No child will undo centuries of power.”
Lyara held his gaze.
“Then why do the whispers reach even our walls?”
The Alpha’s nostrils flared.
“Because fear spreads faster than truth.”
He stepped closer, voice lowering dangerously.
“If such a child exists...”
His eyes burned. "He will be found.”
Lyara searched his face. “And killed?”
A cold paused.
“Yes.”
The word struck like steel against bone.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly in the distance. Lyara felt a twist inside her chest, not defiance, not fear, something she cannot named.
The Alpha returned to his throne, sitting heavily.
“Remember this,” he said, voice echoing across the now-empty hall. “Hanmok does not wait for destiny.”
His gaze lifted toward the ceiling carved with ancient wolves.
“We create it.”
Lyara bowed her head slightly, not in submission, but acknowledgment. As she turned to leave, the massive doors opened to admit a scout covered in dust.
He dropped to one knee immediately.
“Alpha...”
The hall tensed again.
“Speak.”
The scout swallowed.
“Our men tracked movement near the mountain range.”
The Alpha’s fingers tightened on the throne.
“Rogues?”
“Yes... but not ordinary ones.”
A pause.
“There is a young wolf among them.”
The air thickened.
“Describe him.”
The scout hesitated.
“Silver and black fur intertwined... unlike anything we have seen.”
Lyara’s breath caught.
The Alpha stood slowly.
“Age?”
“Nearly grown... powerful.”
The torches flickered violently as a sudden gust tore through the hall.
The Alpha’s voice became a low, lethal whisper.
“Send assassins.”
Lyara stepped forward instinctively.
“Father—”
He silenced her with a raised hand.
“No prophecy threatens Hanmok.”
His eyes were merciless now.
“No divided fate.”
The scout lowered his head further.
“It will be done... Alpha.”
As the doors shut behind the messenger, silence reclaimed the throne hall once more.
The Alpha looked toward the distant mountains, unseen beyond stone walls.
“Let the child learn,” he murmured darkly.
“War does not forgive.”
Outside, clouds gathered over the Eastern horizon.
And far above both cities, unaware that death had just been ordered in his name, a young wolf lifted his head to the wind. For the first time, that something vast and dangerous had begun to move.
The Alpha had made his reminder. "Hanmok would not bow. And blood... would answer blood"
- Writer
