Fated By The Moon, Claimed By Three

What Did You See, Theron?

"Can you help Caelum? He was hurt and..." Elara panted as spoke to them. She had used too much energy when she killed those knights. The pain she felt on her chest and the awful burnt smell... it all faded into the background as she collapsed next to Caelum.

"She fainted," Theron said, staring at Ronan. Ronan looked unconcerned as he helped Caelum up.

"Of course, she did. She's weak after all," he turned to leave.

"Wait! Are you going to leave me to carry her?" Theron asked, frowning.

"If you can't carry her, then leave her alone. You don't expect me to be the one to carry her," Ronan walked away with Caelum.

Theron gazed at the unconscious, half-naked girl seated on the floor and sighed deeply. He took out his gloves and slipped them on before shoving her off the floor.

To his surprise, she had no weight.

"Does she eat anything at all?"

.

.

When Elara opened her eyes again, the world was different. Sunlight filtered gently through the trees, and the air was warm and inviting. She could hear the birds chirping, a soft melody that pulled her back into reality. Blinking slowly, she tried to take it all in.

What caught her attention first was Caelum, lying next to her. He looked pale but, thank goodness, he was still alive. His wounds were bandaged, and she could see his chest rise and fall with soft breaths. Relief washed over her, and she couldn't help but let out a small sigh as she reached out to touch his cheek lightly.

"You didn't die," she whispered, her voice shaking a bit.

"Of course not," Caelum responded, his voice raspy yet playful. His eyes fluttered open slowly. "I'm too pretty to die."

Her hand jerked back, caught off guard by his teasing. He managed a faint grin and lifted his hand to brush against her fingers. "You like touching me, huh?" he said with a playful smirk. "Got a crush on me, little omega?"

Elara felt a rush of heat in her cheeks as she quickly withdrew her hand. 'I was just checking if you were breathing," she retorted, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"Oh, so now you care about me?" he chuckled in a weak voice.

Feeling awkward, she stood up and brushed the dirt off her torn dress, trying to put distance between them. "I'll go find the others," she mumbled.

Just then, out from the trees came Ronan, as silent as ever. He handed her a folded piece of cloth, barely meeting her gaze. "Here," he muttered. "Wear this."

Elara looked down, surprised to see a clean, simple dress, obviously hand-sewn. "You... made this?" she asked, astonished.

He shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "It's nothing. Don't get used to it."

"Still," she replied softly, touched by the gesture, "thank you."

"Don't thank me," he snapped, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "You need to worry about yourself. Remember, you're with guys. You should protect yourself and cover yourself up,"

She nodded quietly, appreciating his concern.

'What could they do to me?'

From behind him, Theron chimed in with a teasing tone, "Ignore him. He thinks being good with a needle makes him weak, but honestly, he's better with that than he is with a sword."

Ronan shot him a glare that could've melted steel before turning away to hide his irritation.

Theron turned back to Elara, his expression lighter. "There's a river close by. You should wash up before you start smelling like charred meat." Elara nodded, understanding the need, and made her way toward the river.

But in her haste, she didn't take the dress with her. She was too distracted.

Theron noticed and grabbed the dress before following her through the trees.

When he reached the riverbank, he stopped in his tracks. Elara was already waist-deep in the water, her back turned to him. She was washing off the blood and dirt, and the torn fabric of her dress floated nearby like a wilted flower, forgotten.

His eyes widened briefly before he turned away, clenching his jaw. But curiosity tugged at him, and before he left completely, he took another quick glance. Something caught his attention... a faint yet glowing mark on her back. It wasn't a tattoo or a scar. It was something else, something different.

His expression darkened a little. He neatly placed the dress by a tree and, without looking back, headed in the opposite direction before she could notice him.

.

.

Meanwhile, just a bit far away in the heart of the continent, there was a famous and dominant pack... Blue Obsidian Pack.

In the Alpha's Palace, a place filled with walls of stone, glimmering marble, and enveloping shadows.

In the middle of it all, on a high throne made of gold, sat Lord Valen, the brother of the deceased Alpha and uncle to the missing Princes. Council members stood around, their voices filled with worry.

"They've been gone too long."

"What if they've failed their tasks to break their curse like the former Alphas?"

"What if they are dead? Should we prepare for the next crowning ceremony?""

Valen raised a hand, keeping his demeanour calm and friendly. "Patience, everyone. The cursed forest is vast. My nephews are strong, but the journey is not short." The room quieted at his words, but beneath that calm surface, a fire of fury burned.

As soon as the council dispersed, Valen stormed into his private quarters. Things started flying... he shattered glass, kicked over chairs, and even smashed a mirror in his frustration.

"Every knight. Every spy. Every last mercenary—useless!"

Just then, the door creaked open, and in walked Drayce, his most trusted aide... a slim figure with round glasses.

Valen turned with bloodshot eyes. "Tell me they're dead."

Drayce bowed slightly. "They are not."

Valen clenched his fists tightly, his patience running thin. "Then what in the world are you doing here?!"

Drayce wore a slow, knowing smile. "They have a girl with them."

Valen froze, his mind racing. "A girl?"

"A mate?" he queried, intrigued by the prospect.

"We don't know," Drayce replied, shrugging. "But she's powerful, different. She... took down half the knights. All by herself using strange powers,"

Real fear flickered behind Valen's eyes for the first time. "What girl has the strength to kill trained knights?"

"I have no idea, but the princes are protecting her."

Valen turned away, the wheels in his head spinning. A cruel smile crept back onto his face. "If we can't get them in that forest... we'll get them in the palace."

He stepped closer to Drayce. "Bring me the girl."

His grin widened. "Alive?"

"Yes. For now," Valen said, fixing his robe as if he hadn't just thrown a tantrum.

"Let the wolves return home. Let the pack celebrate."

His smile turned colder. "And let them bring me the key to their own graves."