Rise of the Underdogs: Jasper

The King’s Arrival

Before either of us could react, the door I had been leaning on swung open by itself. In an instant, the atmosphere shifted as a burst of unexpected activity swept through the house. Suddenly, more Werewolves appeared within the space. Their arrival was not marked by aggression. Rather, it seemed like they’d been summoned from nowhere in particular, their presence both startling and unexplained.

“What th’ devil be this now, eh?” The voice that spoke was male, the resonance powerfully deep. The accent wasn’t one I knew nor could I place it from memory. He glanced around, frowning as he called for our hostess. Then, when she didn’t appear instantly, he muttered, “Where’s tha’ Witch gone off te now?”

His stature was immense, his presence commanding immediate attention. Every muscle seemed to underscore his strength as he loomed above both Akita and me. We stood motionless, caught between shock at his arrival and a glimmer of hope for what it might mean. His footsteps echoed with deliberate intent as he moved toward the door, pausing only when his eyes found ours. In that moment, we waited, uncertain whether his approach signalled rescue or our doom.

There was a light of recognition, but not certainty in his gaze. Yet, he seemed to know us or, at least, he knew of us.

“Hey, Phil,” the man called, his eyes twinkling with cautious optimism. “Where’s tha’ file? The one I asked ye for afore we left the packhouse te me slacker son and his Beta?”

“Here, Alpha,” another man with dark hair and deep eyes that were a blend of blue and green stepped forward. “I gathered all I could on our most reclusive packs. The only northern pack was supposed to be the Arctic Shield, but there was a smaller one some ten kilometers north-northwest of the Shield’s location. Another team has been dispatched to find survivors, if any are left.”

The man’s gaze shifted, settling first on me and then on the girl who hovered uncertainly at my side, half-hidden by my presence. His piercing, earthy-brown eyes were framed by a single arched black brow and chiselled features that seemed carved from stone itself. For a brief moment, his lips twitched. Whether in amusement or perhaps some other unspoken sentiment, I couldn’t tell.

Suddenly, the thundering sound of feet pounding up the stairs interrupted the charged silence, drawing his attention immediately toward the hallway. In a matter of seconds, my four brothers appeared behind me, their movements swift and protective. Instinctively, they encircled Akita, pulling her into the safety of their close formation.

A powerful surge of pride welled up inside me as I witnessed their response. In that instant, I was certain I had honoured both my mother’s legacy and upheld my own sense of what was right.

Another piece of the bigger picture locked into place, and I struggled to maintain composure as I challenged the group, my voice stripped of its usual formality by the weight of what I’d just learned. “Are you saying that the other pack had no standing?”

Levi, his characteristic bluntness unavoidable, let out a quiet snarl, “Then why were they treated like they held rank? Why didn’t Mother just end them?”

A woman stepped forward, her green eyes shadowed by complex emotions. She regarded us seriously, her tone measured but urgent. “First things first, we need to confirm that you children are pups of the Arctic Shield pack.”

The man with the distinctive accent spoke up gently, his words layered with both reassurance and a pressing concern. Yet, as he took one of her hands in his, he smiled. It didn’t brighten the room, but it softened his face as he looked at her with an almost other-worldly and honorific adoration.

Like a man starved, he looked at the woman beside him as if she was the first breath of air he’d inhaled. The first meal he’d eaten after decades of loss and imbalance.

“Me love,” he said softly, “Pups are pups, aye? They are innocent 'til proven elsewise.”

Turning to us, he let some of the intensity leave his features. Sighing heavily, he met my gaze steadily until I looked away. Not because I wanted to, but because I felt the hidden truth that he ranked far above myself and even my sister.

I sucked in a deep breath, holding it until I saw stars before lifting my hand in a gesture of sovereign calm. “At ease, my brothers. Let our sister come forth.”

“But…” Levi trailed as I reached out through the family bond, warning him that anything other than complete and pure reverence would be met with distain. “Oh, Goddess… You’re the Grand Alpha King, aren’t you?”

The man laughed. The sound low and reverberating on the air itself. “Lad, ye ask the right questions, but I’ve one of me own. Who caused the fracture tha’ cost me the most dedicated pack in Canada? Ye speak of things like havin’ standin’ and all, but the fact remains tha’ only the Arctic Shield was sanctioned by the first northern Alpha King near on four hundred years ago, and naught for anythin’ but holdin’ the line at the north-most point. If another existed, then the Alpha allowed the creation without royal decree.”

“Perhaps it was a peaceful arrangement, Sir,” the second man, Phil said with the calm of a surgeon. He was sifting through the pages in the folder, occasionally glancing up at us as if to confirm something. “Maybe Lady Aurilla permitted it with boundaries and treaties. It’s been known to happen.”

The man’s choice of title – Lady Aurilla – was deliberate and revealing. He did not call her Missus, nor did he refer to her as simply Alpha. Instead, his naming of her marked her as a member of the Werewolf Court. That single distinction, subtle yet undeniable, confirmed the truth of who stood before us and underscored the gravity of our situation.

As was the bearing of all Alphas under the Kings rule, Mother was more than a leader. She was nobility among our kind. A tether to the Court of Shadows under the rule of the Goddess Artemis.

River cleared his throat, “The pack was called Crestal, but Maman used to tell stories of how they were known as the Crest Fall wolves before moving north. It’s run by an i***t known as Evian Stokes.”

“Stokes? I went te school with tha’ blasted braindead bastard. I smell the truth, pup. I know ye lot are not liars nor are ye the ones tha’ wrought destruction where peace once reigned. I ask ya now, who started the battle that ended Aurilla’s line?” The King asked again.

Stepping away from our brothers, Akita paused, her throat constricting with anxiety. For the first time in her life, she found herself without a clear path or purpose. Uncertainty weighed heavily upon her, but one thing was abundantly clear: we now stood at the mercy of the King. The very ruler we had been sent to find. He was the grandmaster of all Canadian werewolf packs and their people. The All-Father of our kind.

Akita’s voice was quiet but steady as she addressed the imposing figure before us. “Maman spoke of the King,” she began, her gaze unwavering, “but how do we know you are truly him? How can we be certain that you are not an imposter, sent here to finish what Stokes began?”

The woman’s voice trembled with emotion as she stepped forward as soon as Akita came into full view, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Henry, darling, they survived! Look at her! She’s the mirror of her mother,” she exclaimed, her words filled with awe and relief. Her closeness to the King was unmistakable, identifying her as his Mate, the Luna Queen. Moved by the unfolding scene, she continued, her gaze never leaving Akita. “By the will of the Gods both old and new, Aurilla’s line did not die with her.”

The woman’s declaration, heavy with gratitude and reverence, underscored the significance of the moment. The survival of Aurilla’s lineage brought a renewed sense of hope and continuity to the gathered wolves, affirming the enduring legacy of their noble line.

Our noble line.

As the weight of our lineage became clear, several men in attendance with the King and Queen bowed their heads in a gesture of deep respect toward my sister. With deliberate movements, they exposed their necks. It was an unmistakable sign of submission among werewolves as they acknowledged the authority of the young Alpha who now stood before them.

Their gazes lifted to us, to her five elder brothers who formed a protective line, serving as her guardians for this pivotal moment. The collective deference of the King's entourage underscored the gravity of Akita's role and the respect commanded by her family's legacy.

King Henry’s eyes glittered, his composure cracking slightly. His voice softened as he spoke, the musical quality holding space for factual conversation as he addressed my sister. “Me dear lass, those eyes of yers tell me more than ye knows. Aurilla was wise, far moreso than the Mate she ‘ad, sure. Might we ‘ave yer name?”

“I am the only daughter of Alpha Aurilla, born twelve years ago on the Blood Moon at the turning of the calendar year. Also known as January the first,” my sister answered, her response the same measured intonation Mother had taught all her children.

He lifted his gaze to the rest of us, and Akita smiled brightly for the first time in months. “And the lads?”

“They are my brothers and protectors,” Akita supplied. “Jas is the eldest and my Regent until I come of age.”

King Henry nodded with a wince. “Aye, lassie. Thank ye much for that information. Now we get you six to Shadow Storm for safekeepin’ whilst my Trackers and Warriors document the lands ye left behind. This was a tragedy, but it’s the handlin’ that matters. Phillip, make sure to bring the Alpha’s ashes for her pups. They should keep a piece of her with ‘em for always.”