{ZEPH}

The morning after the attack dawned with an unsettling calm. The chaos of the previous night had receded, leaving behind a town scarred but resolute. Emberwood was healing, and I threw myself into the effort, a whirlwind of efficiency.

“Master Stone would like to know if that shipment of herbs is ready for distribution?” I called out to a harried healer, tying off a bundle of bandages with practiced ease.

“Almost, Zphreya,” she replied, wiping sweat from her weathered brow. “Just need to sort these feverfew leaves.”

“If it’ll help, I’ll take over,” I offered, already moving to the table heavily spread with herbs. “You look exhausted. Get some rest; you’ll beat yourself up for it later if you collapse.”

A grateful sigh escaped her lips. “You’re a lifesaver.”

I moved through the tasks, humbly directing orders, inventorying supplies, and reinforcing defenses. There was a strange comfort in the work, a way to avoid dwelling on the unsettling encounter with that inhuman the night before.

A young guard approached, touching my arm. It caught me off guard and quickly took me out of my reverie. I turned around to see the guard with his arm in a sling. “Zphreya, the west wall took a beating. We’ll need more timber around the wall of the border.”

“Yes sir.”

I continued tending to my duties when Master Alaric found me overseeing the repair of the southern barricade guarding the more open parts of the territory that were harder to oversee.

“Master Alaric,” I greeted but his expression was weary and firm.

“Zeph,” he said, his voice roughened by a sleepless night, “the council needs to convene. Your input is required.”

I nodded, falling into step beside him. Our conversation was always all business: damage assessment, resource allocation, and strategies to prevent future attacks.

It was a familiar rhythm, a professional dance we’d performed countless times. Yet, beneath the surface, I felt the familiar ache of being on the outside. Advisor, confidante, yes. But never truly one of them.

The council room was heavy with unspoken tension. I took my usual seat at Master Alaric’s right hand, noting the subtle shifts in posture, the averted gazes of some of the faction members. My contributions were concise, strategic, devoid of any personal inflection. Personal opinions of mine would never mean anything.

I offered my insights on patrol routes and defensive formations, acutely aware of the undercurrent of disapproval that ripped through the room. It was a familiar sting, one I’d long since learned to endure.

Then came the inevitable question. “The Lycan,” one of the elders rumbled, his voice like stones grinding together. “This…Damian. What is your assessment of his presence here?”

Everyone became silent, and so Master Alaric turned to me. When no one else had an opinion he’d always count on mine every time. And even when they did.

“Zeph?” He called my name. “What do you think about the presence of the Lycan King and his pack coming into Emberwood to assist us?”

I chose my words carefully. “His strength…as a Lycan, is I’m sure valuable. But what if his presence also brings…complications? We must consider the potential ramifications of that. This attack last night…it was far worse than anything we’ve seen.” My tone was polite but firm, masking the unease that stirred within me.

“Well, not since the night that…” Master Alaric paused and looked at me. Then he paused.

I couldn’t press. It wasn’t my place but even if it was, Lyra wouldn’t have given me space to ask.

The Alph daughter’s voice through the discussion, sharp and laced with her customary venom. “Complications? Or are you simply concerned about someone taking the shine off of the right hand?”

She said in a teasing way but I knew that she meant what she’d said. The barb hit its mark, but I refused to flinch.

“My concern is for Emberwood, I assure you, Mistress.” I replied evenly, my gaze steady.

Before Lyra could retort, the doors to the council room opened, and a hush fell over the gathered Inhumans. A tall figure stood in the doorway, his presence commanding immediate attention.

“Beta Alek.” Master Alaric said.

“Alpha Stone.”

He inclined his head respectfully to Alaric, his gaze then flickered over the council members, and then, unexpectedly, landed on me. There was a…curiosity in his eyes, a tentative exploration that made a strange heat prickle beneath my skin. It was a fleeting moment, quickly masked, but it was enough to send a ripple of unease through me. Such direct attention was…improper.

Who is he?

“I was sent here by my Alpha, to see if there was anything that needed my assistance.”

“Ah, that…would be great,” said Master, Alaric. “We need border patrol while they’re fixing the gate. It will fall well into the evening. I doubt that they’ll come back immediately following the attack, but just in case.”

The Beta nodded at Alpha Alaric and then passed one more curious glance at me before he departed.

The meeting eventually dissolved, Alaric dismissing the council members with a weary sigh as Master Alaric complained about how the meeting went. I remained behind, a question burning on my tongue.

“I tell you, they are bloody useless! Only use is grumbling and casting withering glares. The only counsel of any use is you.” he muttered towards me.

“Alpha,” I began, my voice carefully neutral, “I wish you wouldn’t place so much value in my opinion. No one else does.”

“And that’s their problem.” Master Stone without hesitation.

I scoffed. “I wish that were the case,” The truth of the matter is, it wasn’t.

And he most certainly knew that. Sometimes I felt like Master Alaric tried to shove me down others’ throats, tried to force them to feel about me the way that he did. That wasn’t a realistic way of thinking. But he wouldn’t hear of it.

He turned to me, his eyes filled with a fondness that always tugged at my heart as he was a father figure to me.

“Zphreya, your insights are invaluable. Your loyalty to Emberwood is unwavering, and your perspective…it’s untainted by biases that cloud the judgment of others. I’m sorry if that places you in a difficult situation, because making life harder for you is the absolute last thing that I want to do. But…if no one will tell me the truth, make me see things in a different light, you will.”

His words were a balm; the fact that he’d even trust my opinion over his own daughter, it was an honor to say the least. But…those words didn’t fully soothe the unrest simmering within me.

“Then perhaps,” I pressed, emboldened by his reassurance. “You might explain why you are so hard-pressed to invite this Lycan King to Emberwood, knowing the rumors of his brutality. The one thing you don’t seem to listen to me about.”

I hadn’t met this Lycan King before but I didn’t need to. And hearing the nasty stories about him, I certainly didn’t want to.

To put it simply, the guy was a jerk. At least that’s what word says. And I’d had to deal with far more than my fair share of those. I didn’t need to add one more to the list.

Master Alaric opened his mouth to answer, a sigh escaping his lips, but before he could speak, a sharp knock sounded through the room.

We both glanced at the door, curious as to who it could be. Then Master Alaric went to the door and opened it.

The door swung inward, revealing…a large male whose imposing figure filled the doorway.

His gaze swept over Master Alaric, then flickered to me. It was only then that I was forced to remember myself, my gaze falling to the floor.

“Ah, Damian,” said my Alpha, his voice casual, “Forgive the delay. I was just having a…spirited discussion with my advisor.” I saw him gesture toward me with a smile from the corner of my eye.

“Advisor?” This Damian scoffed. “I wasn’t aware that humans had an intelligent enough thought to advise any inhuman.”

“You’d be surprised,” said Master Alaric with a firmness that reassured me.

I could feel his gaze on me, and judging by his tone and the sharp expel of his breath I knew that it was mocking. “Very little surprises me, Alaric. I doubt she will.”

I felt a flush of annoyance rise within me. The arrogance of this guy! I mean sure, Inhumans in general had an endless supply of self-centered adoration but this one-his arrogance was boundless.

I would have been completely consumed with this frustration had I not felt a jolt of something sharper. Realization. Recognition even.

That voice…those eyes….

I’d engaged with that voice only once and would never forget it after. The pieces clicked into place with sickening certainty. It was him. The Lycan from the attack. The memory of his grip, the desperate struggle, and the shock of my escape-it all came flooding back with a dizzying rush.

Master Alaric’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Damian, I don’t believe you’ve properly met backbone, Zphreya.”