Moonlit vow

17.Wolf King's Funeral

The next morning, the first light of dawn filtered through the forest leaves, casting soft beams onto the tribal square. The air was still thick with the metallic tang of blood from the battle the night before. A heavy silence hung over everything. Leiand stood in the center of the square, dressed in simple yet dignified beast-hide attire. His face was pale, but his gaze was resolute. The tribe members gathered quietly, waiting for Leiand’s announcement.

Leiand scanned the crowd, took a deep breath, and spoke in a clear and steady voice:

“Last night’s events cost us our Wolf King. This is a loss for all of us. I know you share my pain, but we must look forward. We must protect this tribe. It is the final responsibility the Wolf King left to us.”

After a brief pause, Leiand continued, “Those despicable rogue werewolves tried to steal our food, kill our kin, and trample on our honor. They have crossed the line, and there can be no forgiveness. I declare that tonight, they will be executed.”

The tribe members did not object. Some even murmured their agreement, as if they had been anticipating this decision. However, at that moment, Ellie, who was being held nearby, suddenly shouted, “No! You can’t do this to me! I was only following Kahar’s orders—this was all his idea!”

Her cries pierced the tense air. All eyes turned to Ellie as she struggled, desperate to absolve herself. Leiand’s cold gaze bore into her as he replied, his voice like ice, “Ellie, you betrayed the tribe. You helped the enemy infiltrate us with your filthy schemes. No matter who gave you the orders, it is unforgivable.”

Ellie opened her mouth to argue further, but Leiand did not give her the chance. He turned back to the tribe and declared, “Ellie and Kahar will be exiled from the tribe. Their actions have disappointed me deeply, but no matter what, Kahar is my brother, and they were once part of our pack. I cannot bring myself to destroy them completely. From today onward, they are no longer part of the tribe, nor will they be under the protection of the Wolf Clan.”

The tribe murmured amongst themselves. Some were dissatisfied with the leniency, but many understood the struggle in Leiand’s heart. Kahar was not just his brother but also someone who had grown up with them.

Soon, Kahar was brought to the square. There was no trace of remorse on his face—only a faint smirk. “Exile me? This is your final mercy?”

Leiand didn’t react to the provocation, replying calmly, “Kahar, your ambition has led you down this path. You can refuse to accept it, but you must understand—when you colluded with outsiders and betrayed the tribe, you lost all support here.”

Kahar raised his head slightly, a sneer tugging at his lips, but his eyes betrayed a mix of bitterness and conflict. He had expected this outcome, but now that it was upon him, a deep sense of loss swept over him. Without further argument, Kahar stood, ready to leave the land he had once called home.

As he took his first step, his eyes inadvertently landed on Annie. The woman who had borne his child stood quietly among the crowd, holding their daughter in her arms. Her gaze met his—not with anger or accusation but with a detached indifference. The coldness in her eyes struck Kahar like a blow, and he halted mid-step, staring at her as if waiting for her to speak.

Annie, noticing his gaze, glanced down at her daughter before taking a deep breath and stepping forward. Her eyes swept over Kahar’s face, the face that had once made her heart flutter but now seemed so unfamiliar. She had once believed that Kahar was merely blinded by ambition. But the events of last night revealed the truth—he had never truly cared for her or their child. For Kahar, the only thing that ever mattered was power.

“Annie, I…” Kahar finally spoke, his voice trembling. He seemed on the verge of asking if she would follow him into exile, but the words stuck in his throat. Deep down, he knew he could no longer offer Annie or their daughter a stable future. He didn’t even know what fate awaited him beyond the tribe.

Annie didn’t wait for him to finish. She lifted her head and said calmly, “Kahar, I won’t go with you.”

Her words thundered in Kahar’s ears, and his pupils contracted in shock. He had not expected such decisiveness. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but when his eyes fell on the child cradled in her arms, every word died in his throat.

“Our daughter needs a safe place to grow up,” Annie continued, her tone devoid of blame but filled with a quiet resolve. “And you… you can no longer provide that. I will stay—for her future.”

Kahar was silent for a long time. His gaze shifted from Annie’s face to their sleeping child. He had once envisioned gaining power to create a better life for them, but now, all of that was gone. His ambition had cost him everything he held dear.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice hoarse and broken, a rare note of sincerity in it. “I was never a good father.” He turned slowly, letting out a bitter laugh. Without looking back, he walked away from the tribe. His steps were heavy, and the morning sunlight stretched his shadow far across the ground, making him seem lonely and desolate.

Annie watched as Kahar’s figure disappeared into the forest. Her chest tightened, and her gaze dropped to the child in her arms. The little girl, still lost in her dreams, was blissfully unaware of everything that had transpired. Silent tears slid down Annie’s cheeks. She wiped them away quickly, though the ache in her heart remained.

Memories of their time together surged like a tide—the moments of tenderness, the times they worked together for their daughter, even the petty arguments born of jealousy. They were now indelible marks in her heart, but all of it belonged to the past.

Annie kissed her daughter’s forehead gently and whispered, “Your father is gone, but I will always be here for you.”

She knew the road ahead would not be easy, but for her daughter’s sake, she had to be strong.

Ellie followed close behind, dragged reluctantly by the tribe’s guards.

When their figures finally vanished into the snowy wilderness, the tribe members began to disperse. Leiand stood motionless in the square for a long time, the weight of everything pressing down on him. His heart was still heavy with pain.

Iris quietly approached, standing by his side. Without a word, she reached out and gently took his hand, offering him silent comfort.

As night fell, the wolf clan’s village was shrouded in deep sorrow. The stars twinkled above, as if draped in a veil of mourning for tonight’s solemn ceremony. In the center of the square, a tall pyre had been carefully constructed with dry, stacked wood, still waiting to be ignited. The unlit flames seemed to carry an intensity of their own, like the continuation of the wolf clan’s beliefs, evoking a sense of reverence and respect.

Elderly leaders, supported by Leiand, the future leader of the clan, made their way through the crowd to the center of the square. His steps were heavy, his young shoulders bearing the weight of the clan’s future.

Leiand’s eyes betrayed a deep sadness, yet they held an undeniable respect for the wolf king. The wolf king had been their guardian, the pillar of strength for the clan, and a mentor to Leiand himself.

The villagers gathered respectfully, each adorned in their finest garments—a sign of their utmost reverence. Their foreheads were painted with ancient red symbols, representing life, heritage, and their connection to the wolf lineage.

In this solemn moment, silence enveloped the gathering. Only the heavy footsteps echoed in the quiet snow as they approached the firelit pyre. The wolf king’s body was gently laid on the pyre, his face serene, as if he had merely fallen into a deep slumber. Leiand, with trembling hands, draped a white animal pelt over him, a symbol of purity and honor. Around them, the mourners began to chant the ancient funeral dirge. The chant was slow and mournful, weaving a tapestry of sorrow and reverence for the wolf king’s life and deeds.

An elder stepped forward, his back slightly hunched but his eyes sharp and commanding. With a rune-carved wooden staff in hand, his voice, though hoarse, resonated with strength. “Today, we honor our wolf king. He devoted his life to defending our clan, guiding us through countless hardships with wisdom and strength. He was our greatest leader, a source of pride and legacy for our people.” His words, each one imbued with a sense of power, stirred deep emotions among the villagers. Many wept openly, mourning the loss of a man who had shaped their lives.

“Wolf king,” the elder continued, his voice catching as tears threatened to overwhelm him, “taught us the meaning of unity and courage. He wrote a legacy with his life—a legacy that will be remembered in the annals of our clan forever.”

The villagers bowed their heads, some openly weeping. The wolf king had become more than a leader; he was an indelible part of their very being. For the elders to the youngest children, his teachings and deeds left an indelible mark on their souls.

Leiand moved forward, kneeling beside the wolf king’s body. His mind flooded with memories—his father’s commanding presence, the wisdom passed down, the strength he had witnessed in battle. Every detail etched into his heart, a lasting tribute to the man who had shaped him.

Under the elder’s guidance, Leiand took a deep breath and carefully lifted his father’s body toward the pyre. Each step was heavy, each movement a reminder of the weight of loss. The fire flickered in the cold night wind, its flames dancing against the shadows as if the wolf king’s spirit were watching over them.

The fire consumed the wolf king’s body, but his spirit was carried forward. For the wolf clan, fire was sacred—it symbolized rebirth, legacy, and the guiding light for future generations. The wolf king’s life had been a flame, burning brightly to illuminate their lives and sustain their unity.

The ceremony continued as offerings of sacrificed sheep were placed onto the pyre alongside the wolf king’s body. The flames roared louder, crackling with intensity. The smoke billowed into the night sky, as if guiding the wolf king’s soul to the next realm. Villagers, forming a solemn circle around the fire, danced in slow, rhythmic movements. Their bodies moved with the fire, as if merging with its energy.

As the hours passed, the ceremony extended into the night. Eventually, the fire began to wane, flickering low, its light gradually fading. The square, once alive with grief and ritual, fell into a tranquil quiet. Leiand stood by the remaining embers, his eyes red and fixed on the dying flames. The finality of the moment weighed heavily on his heart.

Nearby, Iris watched silently. She was an outsider, having arrived in a world unfamiliar and initially fraught with fear. Yet, in a short time, the depth of the wolf clan’s beliefs had touched her soul. The wolf king’s funeral stirred her emotions deeply; tears glistened in her eyes as she looked to the star-filled sky, seeing the wolf king as a shining star, merging into the cosmos.

In the distance, beyond the fading flames and amidst the misty forest, Kahar stood in isolation. His figure blended into the shadows, his expression a mixture of regret and conflict. The fire’s glow was a painful reminder—a reminder of his father’s legacy, which he had inadvertently fractured. The wolf king was more than a father; he was a guiding star that Kahar had lost.

“Father…” Kahar whispered, his voice barely audible in the silent woods. His tough exterior had broken; tears streamed down his face as he faced the reality of his mistakes. He had never wanted to harm his father. Yet, his ambitions, fueled by his desires, had led him down a dark path.

“If only… if only you hadn’t shown me favor,” Kahar murmured, his words a mixture of sorrow and self-reproach. Even as he sought to blame the wolf king, Kahar understood—there was no one else to bear the weight of his choices.

After a long pause, Kahar stood and turned away, walking deeper into the forest. His figure disappeared into the shadows, a solitary silhouette lost in the vastness of the unknown. He knew his place no longer belonged among the clan. The wolf king’s name would no longer grace his lips.

As the ceremony concluded, the villagers began to disperse, leaving behind only the ashes and memories. Iris approached Leiand, quietly grasping his sleeve. Neither spoke as they walked back to their cave, their thoughts lingering on the events that had just transpired.

In the stillness of the night, while the fire had been extinguished, its light continued to burn within every heart. The legacy of the wolf king was forever etched into the fabric of their lives, and his spirit would always be with the wolf clan.