Chapter 3 : The calm before the Blood
995 Words
They celebrated like nothing had happened.
That was the cruelest part.
The night after the coronation ceremony passed in laughter and music. Fires burned bright across the pack grounds, roasting meat filled the air with warmth, and barrels of ale were rolled out like it was a festival instead of a pack still bleeding beneath its skin.
I watched from the edges.
Always from the edges.
Wolves laughed with mouths stained by meat and drink, their voices loud and careless. Warriors slapped each other’s backs, boasting about strength and loyalty. Elders spoke in low, confident tones, dismissing the earlier tension like it had been nothing more than a childish tantrum.
A warning attack, they called it.
A nuisance.
“They wouldn’t dare strike again,” one warrior laughed, lifting his mug. “Especially after losing three of their own.”
“They’re cowards,” another added. “Rogues always are.”
The word rogue floated through the air like an insult too small to fear.
I said nothing.
I ate what scraps I was given, chewing slowly, forcing the food down even as my stomach churned. Every sound felt too loud. Every laugh felt wrong. The night pressed against my skin like it was holding its breath.
Across the fire, Lucian sat at the center of attention, already wearing the confidence of a future Alpha like it belonged to him. He laughed loudly, basking in admiration, his arm slung casually over a warrior’s shoulder.
He never looked at me.
The Alpha and Luna sat near him, regal and satisfied. The royal family of the Half-Moon Pack watched from their elevated seats, composed and unreadable, their eyes sharp as blades. When their gazes brushed over me, they lingered for half a second longer than the rest.
Not pity.
Assessment.
As if I were a thing to be measured, weighed, and dismissed.
When the night finally ended, I returned to my small room beside the basement, exhaustion settling deep into my bones. Sleep came fast but it was restless, fractured by dreams of howling winds and blood-soaked earth.
I woke before dawn with a sharp ache behind my eyes.
It pulsed slowly, steadily, like something tapping from the inside of my skull.
The pack gathering was called just after sunrise.
A formal assembly.
Every member was required to attend.
The Alpha Hall filled quickly, the atmosphere heavier than the night before but still wrapped in confidence. The attack had already been turned into a tale of victory proof of Half-Moon’s strength.
I stood near the back, shoulders stiff, hands clenched at my sides.
Alpha Elvis rose, his presence commanding immediate silence.
“Last night proved what we already know,” he declared. “The Half-Moon Pack stands strong. The rogues tested our borders and failed.”
Murmurs of agreement swept through the hall.
“They are scattered,” Lucian added smugly. “Weak. Leaderless. We dealt with them easily.”
A few warriors laughed.
The elders nodded.
I felt the ache in my head sharpen.
Something was wrong.
The royal family exchanged a glance brief, subtle, but tense. One of them leaned forward slightly, fingers tightening around the armrest of his chair.
“Still,” an elder spoke cautiously, “we should not underestimate desperation.”
Lucian scoffed. “Fear makes prey, not predators.”
That was when the air shifted.
It was faint at first so faint most didn’t notice. A subtle change in pressure. The warmth in the hall cooled, just enough to raise the hairs along my arms.
Then the birds went silent.
No chirping.
No distant calls.
Nothing.
My breath caught.
A sharp pulse slammed behind my eyes, and suddenly my heart was racing for reasons I couldn’t explain.
“Do you feel that?” I whispered under my breath.
No one answered.
A guard near the entrance stiffened, nostrils flaring. “Alpha,” he said slowly. “There’s a scent—”
The doors exploded inward.
The sound was deafening.
Wood splintered. Stone cracked. Screams tore through the hall as dark figures flooded in from every direction fast, wild, merciless.
Rogues.
This was no warning.
This was slaughter.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Wolves shifted mid-scream, bones snapping as claws tore through flesh. Blood sprayed across the polished stone floor, staining banners and walls. The air filled with the metallic tang of death and the sharp stench of fear.
“Protect the Alpha!”
“Get the elders out!”
“Shift! Shift!”
I was thrown backward as bodies collided, the force knocking the breath from my lungs. A scream cut off abruptly beside me, warm blood splashing across my cheek.
I stumbled, disoriented, the pounding in my head blinding.
Someone grabbed my arm hard.
I twisted, fighting instinctively, but another body slammed into mine. I hit the ground, pain exploding through my skull as my head struck stone.
White flashed across my vision.
The world tilted.
Sounds blurred screams melting into roaring silence. I tasted blood, thick and bitter, pooling in my mouth.
I tried to push myself up.
Failed.
Boots thundered past me. A rogue’s snarl echoed too close, followed by a wet tearing sound and another scream.
Hands grabbed me again strong, rough, unfamiliar.
“Leave her,” a voice shouted. “She’s already dead!”
The words echoed strangely, distant and hollow.
Dead.
The pressure behind my eyes burst.
Darkness rushed in like a tide.
The last thing I saw was moonlight spilling through the shattered roof, silver and unforgiving, as the world collapsed around me.
Then
Nothing.
When consciousness flickered briefly, I felt myself being dragged.
The ground beneath me was no longer stone but earth cold, damp, uneven. My body bounced with every step, pain flaring but distant, muted.
Voices murmured above me.
Unfamiliar.
Rough.
Satisfied.
“She won’t survive,” one said.
“Doesn’t matter,” another replied. “Take the others.”
The forest swallowed us whole.
And with it, everything I had ever been.
- Writer
