Rise of the Underdogs: Jasper

Reunion

Months passed in steady rhythm as we forged our path forward. The days blurred into one another, each marked by the same relentless focus on duty. Our orders from the top were clear, a four‑step process that demanded every ounce of our diligence and resolve.

Step one was simple in command but immense in weight: find our lost people. We were permitted to use any means necessary to track them, to reconnect, and to guide them back toward Shadow Storm lands. For those who resisted leaving the lives they had built, we offered a token — a promise of safe passage should the day come when they needed it.

Step two was clear: hunt Rogues. This task carried its own dark satisfaction, the kind born from justice long overdue. Revenge has a way of sharpening purpose, and for once, the fear belonged to them. Instead of innocent pups trembling under their cruelty, it was the Rogues themselves who faltered, stripped of the power they once wielded for sport.

Our orders demanded that we locate and dismantle their dens, leaving no sanctuary for corruption. Each member was given a choice — repent for their crimes or perish clinging to the belief that their way was righteous. Those who fell were not casualties of chance, but threats to the fragile balance we fought to protect. Their deaths were necessary, a brutal safeguard for the tentative peace between the supernatural and the human world.

Step three demanded vigilance: document anything the Grand Alpha should know. Nothing was to remain undisclosed, no matter how small or inconvenient. Human hunters trespassing on protected land were reported without hesitation. City officials accepting bribes to ignore Rogues abducting humans off the street were reported as well. Every detail we judged significant was captured, recorded by Levi on video, transcribed by River into precise accounts, and enforced by me with the weight of authority.

Step four was the most obvious order of all: survive. It needed no elaborate explanation, no detailed strategy, because survival was the foundation upon which every other command rested. Without it, the search for our people, the hunt for Rogues, and the careful documentation of threats would mean nothing. Survival was the unspoken law of the north, the instinct that carried us through every battle and every night. In the end, it was the simplest directive, yet the one that demanded the most from us.

We had shaped it into a perfected art. Our strength, our hopes, and our tasks were deliberately carried with us as we worked through endless days and nights. It became a dance of twisted darkness and purifying light, each step creating balanced shadows as we trekked across the island and back again. Those four steps gave us a foothold we had never known before, a place within a pack that allowed us to be ourselves. This was not blind allegiance, but trust. One that made us their eyes and ears, their enforcers of the laws that governed our kind.

North, south, east, west, and central — every corner of the land was covered by the three of us before we finally turned toward home. Not to Shadow Storm, but to the place where our lives had first taken shape. We returned to the wilds that had birthed our resilience, the unforgiving ground that had carved our drive to survive.

The snow crunched beneath our boots, each step echoing with memory. Then the satellite phone rang, sharp against the silence of winter. I pulled it free, the cold biting at my fingers in a weak attempt to cause me pain, and grinned.

“Yes, Grand Alpha?” I asked as I answered the call.

“Ye’ve left the Isle?” Henry asked, his lilting accent making us ache for pack all over again.

I shook my head, “Yes, Sir. Tracked several Rogues northward to the remnants of our old pack. Has the latest family arrived?”

“Aye, and a well-done task, lads. You put a proper dent in the Rogue numbers, sure,” he answered.

Levi grinned, his ice blue eyes shimmering. “Grand Alpha, we saw the stone you had carved and set where the longhouse used to be. Thank you, Sir.”

The stone he spoke of was a monolith, carved with the names of every fallen member of Arctic Shield. It stood as a testament to deliberate care, each name etched into the rainbow-coloured Labradorite with magic so deep in remembrance that the sight alone brought us to tears. We were undone when our eyes found Maman’s name, followed by the engraving that honored her: Lady Aurilla Stone, beloved mother and Alpha of Arctic Shield. Guardian of the True North, strong and free. May your soul find peace with the Goddess.

The words struck harder than any blade, and we wept openly, stripped of composure.

Yes, it was ugly crying. Yes, it was snot, tears, the whole mess of young boys who had lost everything far too soon. Mourning was never meant to be graceful, and it never would be. It was raw, not only human but humaine, and in that moment it belonged to us alone — to hold, to handle, and finally to release.

From that grief came a reason for growth, a grounding in who we were, and a guidance toward who we were becoming.

“Aye, Levi, t’was a necessary thing, that monument. A fine piece of solid Labradorite carved, polished, and engraved in memory of a loyal pack.” Henry replied, his voice tinged with pain and memory.

“We combed every inch of the land and managed to collect old books, manuscripts, translations, myths, and scrolls important to my people. We’ll bring them to you for safekeeping,” I said, my hand still resting on my bag where the Book of the Sighted rested wrapped in oil cloth and fur.

A book that told of the history and Mating matches of the Arden family line.

“Did ye? Good. That’s history saved, me lads,” Henry replied. “A fine job, indeed. And the Rogue issue?”

“Resolved for now,” River said. “We left enough of them alive to send a message. Shadow Storm holds the power and the righteous fury of the north, and we don’t play.”

Laughter echoed on the line, and I knew that Phillip and Clara were listening. Henry sighed, “Fair. Head home when you’re ready, lads. Things ‘ave taken a turn for the better, I believe.”

Heat rushed me, and I inhaled sharply. It was brutal, but the implication was clear. The prince had not been put down for turning feral, and I knew because Henry was his jovial self. Had his mood been dark, the opposite would have been true. For now, one thing stood out. One that needed no words, just a feeling of completion. “Neil found her? His Mate?”

“Top notch, ain’t ye? Aye, Jasper. He’s found his Fated, his Goddess-given, soul-chosen Mate, and tis time to bring the pack home,” Henry answered.

River let out a whistle, “That’s amazing, Alpha. We’ll head home as soon as we can.”

“We’ll head back this evening. We left the car at the ferry terminal in Saint Barbe’s, and we have Pearl waiting to send us back via transport circle,” Levi advised.

“Be expectin’ ye three in about two weeks then, aye?” Henry asked, humoured by my brothers as he always was.

“Or less,” I confirmed. “If we take turns driving, we’ll be back sooner. Maybe three days, if that.”

Again, he laughed, “Right then. Well, I’ll be seein’ ye lot soon enough. Three years gone be too long now. Your other brothers and sister ‘ave been pining for ye, sure.”

Four days later, Levi, River and I parked in front of a two-story, two bath, six-bedroom house. Our house, built by the pack while we were gone, was a home. The grass was trimmed, hedges clipped into figures resembling Arctic snowbirds, bears, foxes, and wolves. The wood was etched with symbols, ancient and powerful, that held the power of protection and safety.

The door burst open, and Colton was standing in the passage. His infectious grin almost had me joining in on the laughter. “Welcome home, sass-holes. Like it? I spent almost a month designing it for your family.”

I blinked, unable to really breathe properly. Licking my lips, I let out a deep breath. “You… you did this?”

“Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Well, you’re pack and I’m the Beta now, so it’s my job to ensure our people have homes while Neil pushes paper. Besides, you helped our numbers by sending more to us on your travels. There’s still a long way to go, though. Hey, question, ever seen a red-haired Werewolf?”

“Typical Colt,” Levi groaned. “Only wolves like that are not from here. More like deep south. Like, way deep.”

Colt nodded, “Exactly. So don’t be shocked when you see two of them here. Mariana is that lout Austin’s Mate. She and their son, Logan, are the red-heads I’m talking about.”

“That i***t actually got a Mate? Poor woman,” River commented before vanishing into the house with his bags.

“Oncle!” A tiny voice giggled.

I turned, my bag falling to the ground with a deep thud as I saw who was standing next to the bonnet of the car. “You made it…”

My voice trailed as I moved faster than I thought possible. Grabbing the woman in a tight hug, I sobbed. Holding Eileen at an arms length, I looked her over. Stronger than when last we met, she now held herself with a calm that belied her actual station: Omega.

Eileen smiled, inclining her head. “My Lord, welcome home. I brought Ember to see you. I told her you are her uncles who helped save us before and after she was born.”

My hands cupped the tiny pup’s face, her emerald eyes glittering happily. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I brushed my nose against the tots own and sobbed. Not because she lived, but because of the weight of her survival. “You are loved, little one. Always remember that.”