Moonlight: sorrow and love

Funeral

As Ares' eyelids fluttered open, the soft, golden light filtering through the windows of the pack's infirmary enveloped him, casting a warm glow on the anguish etched on his face. The familiar scent of wildflowers and fresh earth, staples of their beloved pack lands, was now tainted with the acrid smell of sorrow and despair, making his stomach churn. He lay on a plush, cushioned bed, surrounded by the concerned faces of his packmates, their expressions heavy with grief. A dull ache throbbed in his chest, a reminder of the void that had opened up within him.

"Ares, my child," Elara whispered, her voice trembling as she gently stroked his hair, the warmth of her hand contrasting sharply with the coldness that had settled in his heart. Her eyes were brimming with tears, each droplet reflecting the pain that seemed to fill the very air around them.

Ares' gaze darted around the room, taking in the solemn faces of Thane, the pack leader and Sylas' father, and other pack members, their expressions mirroring the depth of their sorrow. The reality of his loss settled heavily on his chest, suffocating him. "Sylas?" he croaked, his voice barely audible, strained and raspy, as if he had just emerged from a nightmare. His throat constricted, the crushing weight of his grief making it difficult to speak.

Thane's expression twisted further into sorrow, tears glistening in his eyes as he struggled to maintain his composure. "He is dead, Ares," he whispered, his voice cracking as the words fell from his lips like a death knell, sending a fresh wave of anguish through Ares' body.

Tears streamed down Ares' face, hot and relentless, mingling with the sweat-drenched sheets beneath him. Memories of the attack flooded his mind: the chaos, the snarls, the moments that led to Sylas lying lifeless beside him. The haunting screams of his packmates replayed in an endless loop, each memory more painful than the last. "No... no... no..." he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief as his body began to shake, fists clenched tightly in frustration and helplessness, feeling the crushing weight of his failure.

Elara wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, her embrace a fragile lifeline in the storm of despair. "We're here for you, Ares," she whispered, her voice soothing, though unable to quell the tempest raging within him. Her warmth offered little solace against the overwhelming grief that felt insurmountable.

With a Herculean effort, Ares pushed himself up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The room spun around him, the world tilting dangerously as he gritted his teeth, determined to stand and confront the reality of his loss. "I want to see him," Ares said, his voice firm and resolute, though every syllable felt like it scraped against the raw wound in his heart.

As Ares' gaze landed on the left part of the room, Nicola, Sylas' beta, stood beside his bed, her expression stern and unforgiving. "Elara, prepare Ares for the burial," she instructed, her voice devoid of empathy, her icy demeanor sending a chill down Ares' spine.

Without a glance at Ares, Nicola turned sharply on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving Elara to tend to the grieving mate, the tension in the air palpable. Ares' gaze followed Nicola's departure, confusion and pain etched deeply on his face. He could feel the disdain radiating from the others; he sensed their disappointment in him, the weak wolf who couldn't even shift properly or protect his mate when it mattered most. But Sylas had accepted him, loved him for who he was, and now that love felt like a distant memory overshadowed by a veil of guilt.

Elara's gentle touch brought Ares back to the present moment, grounding him. "Come, Ares, we must prepare you for the funeral," she whispered, her eyes filled with compassion that contrasted sharply with the harsh reality surrounding them. Ares nodded, his vision blurring as fresh tears streamed down his face, each drop a testament to the pain that consumed him. Leo, his wolf, whimpered inside him, still reeling from the trauma of losing its other half.

As Elara guided Ares to his room, the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, each step a reminder of the weight of their shared loss. Ares knew all too well the pack's opinion of him, that he was seen as a liability rather than a leader. But Sylas' love had made him feel worthy, had given him strength, and now he felt like a shadow of that person, lost and broken.

In the privacy of his room, Elara helped Ares wash his face, her touch tender yet firm, as she assisted him in dressing in somber attire—a stark reminder of the day's grim purpose. Ares' movements were mechanical, his mind numb with grief, as he tried to find a sliver of composure amidst the overwhelming sorrow.

"Why did they attack us, Elara?" Ares asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a desperate need for answers that would never come.

Elara's expression turned sorrowful, her own grief evident in the way her shoulders slumped. "We'll find out, Ares. But for now, let's focus on saying goodbye to Sylas," she said softly, her voice a balm against the aching wound in his heart.

As Elara finished tying Ares' tie, a faint howl echoed outside, a mournful sound that pierced through the stillness. Leo responded instinctively with a whimper, a deep-seated sorrow resonating between them, as if they both understood the magnitude of their loss.

As the somber procession made its way to the pack's sacred burial grounds, Ares' tears fell unchecked, each drop a testament to his shattered heart. Elara's gentle grip on his arm steadied him, but his legs felt like jelly, unsteady as they navigated the path lined with trees, their leaves whispering secrets of loss and love.

Upon reaching the gravesite, Ares felt the weight of the world pressing down on him. The pack began to gather around the freshly dug hole, their expressions grave and somber. Sylas' body, wrapped in a pristine white shroud, lay on a wooden platform, awaiting its final resting place, a sight that made Ares' heart shatter all over again.

As Ares approached, Nicola suddenly pushed him aside, sending him stumbling backward. Ares' eyes widened in shock, his tears momentarily forgotten as he struggled to regain his balance. "Watch where you're going, weakling," Nicola snarled, her voice dripping with contempt.

Elara rushed to Ares' side, helping him up, her expression a mix of anger and concern. "Nicola, what's wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow, protective instincts flaring to life.

Nicola's face twisted in rage, her emotions bubbling over. "You think he deserves to be here? He's the reason Sylas is dead!" she spat, her words laced with venom.

Ares' confusion turned to horror as Nicola's words cut deep, slicing through his already fragile heart like a blade.

"I saw what happened!" Nicola continued, her voice rising in pitch. "Sylas was trying to save his pathetic mate, and he got stabbed with a silver knife deep in his heart! You were supposed to die, not him!" Her accusation hung in the air, a toxic cloud that suffocated the space around them.

The pack gasped, murmurs rippling through the crowd as they shifted uncomfortably, some casting furtive glances in Ares' direction, their sympathies torn. "If you had stayed in the pack house, none of this would've happened! You're weak, Ares, and your lovesick puppy act got Sylas killed!" Nicola's fury was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, leaving Ares feeling exposed and raw.

Elara stepped forward, her eyes blazing with a fierce protectiveness that ignited a flicker of hope in Ares' chest. "Sylas was protecting his mate, and you will still respect Ares! He is your Luna!" Her voice rang with authority, though it was met with mixed reactions.

Nicola's response sent a chill down Ares' spine, words striking harder than any physical blow. "No, ma'am, I will never accept him as our Luna. He's a liability, a weakness that got our future alpha killed!" The divide within the pack was palpable, each member's loyalty pulled in opposing directions, leaving Ares feeling like an outsider in the only place he had ever called home.

Thane's authoritative voice cut through the rising tension, steady and firm. "Enough, Nicola. This is not the time or place," he commanded, his eyes narrowing with disappointment.

But the damage was done. Ares' fragile grip on his emotions shattered, and he collapsed to the ground, overcome by grief and shame, the world around him blurring into a haze of pain. He felt the weight of their judgment pressing down on him, the truth of their disdain and anger swirling around him, suffocating him as he curled into himself, lost in a storm of anguish that felt all-consuming.

As he sat there, the tears continued to flow, unchecked and relentless, each drop a testament to the love he had lost and the future that had been stolen away from him, leaving nothing but an empty void where.