The Chronicles of the Twin Moons

Chapter Ten: The Heirless Alpha

POV: Travis Moonblood

Alpha Rauken Ironroot had requested an audience. The elders had heard his claim, his pleas, and granted it. Moonblood elders had listened to an outsider. I honestly did not know what had been requested. I just knew that they were preparing for something.

Then the northern gate’s horn rang, echoing across the layered stone courtyards, sharp and insistent. A runner appeared, sprinting toward the hall where the elders still spoke with Alpha Rauken.

“Riders from the northern pack. Ironroot,” the runner gasped.

Ironroot was already here. Had been since the start of the funeral.

And then it clicked. Rauken had sent a group home a few days after the funeral. And a message just last night.

Curiosity pricked sharp along my spine. I moved closer to the doorway. My mother was in there—I could feel it. Knew she would tell me.

The hall smelled of smoke, beeswax, and old stone, thick with candlelight that flickered against the high ceilings. Elders murmured, leaning toward one another, their voices a low hum of authority and caution. Every so often, eyes flicked toward the doors, toward the arriving riders.

What was happening?

I slipped among the northern riders, careful to stay in shadow at the edge of the group. Every footfall, every rustle of leather, every faint hiss of frost under iron shoes marked the rhythm of something I could not yet name.

Rauken stepped forward. The Heirless Alpha. Every eye in the room bent to him. Every whisper stopped mid-breath. I could feel the weight of him even from the doorway—the calm in his stance, the subtle pull of authority that did not need words. Stone and air seemed to lean toward him.

And then he spoke.

“I… Alpha Rauken Ironroot, tamer of the north mountains, Heirless…”

The hall went still. Elders froze. Even the northern riders shifted uneasily beneath their mounts.

“…name you Toak Ironroot as my soul Heir!”

The words landed like a hammer. My eyes followed Rauken at first—tall, broad, presence undeniable. But then they shifted.

Toak.

He stood apart from the riders, an Alpha. Posture even, calm, every motion measured. Not arrogant. Not loud. But the air around him thrummed. Quietly, impossibly, the kind of presence that makes grown Alphas pause, just for a heartbeat, to reckon with it.

I felt it in my chest. The pull of raw, steady power, anchored by certainty. Not a threat—not yet—but a force that demanded acknowledgment. Even from me.

I pressed myself against the wall, swallowing. Teeth tight. Heart stubborn. But I could not unsee it.

The man Rauken had named… the man Rauken had raised, trained, and now placed at the heart of Ironroot power… he was no ordinary Alpha. And I—Travis Moonblood—could feel the tide shifting under my feet.

The hall had changed. Everything had changed. And I knew, with a cold certainty, that the next hours would decide more than titles. They would decide who held power, who bent, and who broke.