~Aiden~

The ground of Darkmoon was hard and black, scarred from years of battle. My sword collided with my instructor’s, sparks flaring as our blades met for a split second before I twisted, bringing the blade down in a clean arc that ended just shy of his neck.

“Better,” he grunted, lowering his weapon. “But your hesitation could cost you your life.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow. “Or it could save someone else’s.”

The man gave a short laugh, the sound uncertain. I guess he was unsure of what I meant, but at least I knew he was glad that training was over.

Across the field, Jayden tossed his practice staff onto the ground, rolling his shoulder. “I’m heading to the studio,” he called, casual as always. “Father wants perfection, but art requires peace. I’ll find mine elsewhere.”

“Oh, my stubborn brother.” I laughed under my breath.

He smirked faintly and blew me a kiss. “Eeeeeew!” I exclaimed.

Jayden vanished down the corridor just as the heavy doors of the training yard opened. Father stepped through, his black coat trailing behind him, embroidered with the silver crest of Darkmoon.

“Father,” I greeted, straightening instantly.

Before he could answer, one of the guards rushed in, trembling. “Alpha Darius, it’s urgent.”

Father turned sharply. “Speak.”

“The Alpha King of Nightfang… he’s dead. Poisoned this morning.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, overwhelming and unbelievable.

I froze. “What?”

Father’s lips curled slowly, not in shock, but in amusement. “So,” he murmured, “the mighty Wintle finally meets his end.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. “This is the moment I’ve waited for. They’ll be weak, unsteady, mourning. Now is the time to strike.”

I blinked, still gripping my sword. “Strike? Father, an Alpha just died. Their pack is grieving…”

“Exactly,” he cut me off, turning with a sharp smile. “Grief blinds while fear divides. They’ll fall apart before they realize who’s at their gates.”

My stomach twisted. “I hope you don’t have a hand in this, Father.”

He raised a brow, amused by my defiance. “Whether I do or not changes nothing,” he said calmly. “The important thing is that Nightfang is without a leader, and it’s our time to take what should’ve been ours generations ago.”

His voice carried that tone, the one that made the guards stand taller and everyone else bow lower. But I couldn’t match it. Not this time.

“That’s not strength,” I said quietly. “That’s cruelty.”

He tilted his head. “Strength is doing what others can’t stomach, Aiden. Remember that.”

He turned toward the courtyard, barking orders. “Send word to the council. Prepare the warriors. By dawn, I want our banners on the ridge. We march within the week.”

The command spread like fire. Warriors hurried off; messengers mounted their vehicles, visiting door to door. The pack buzzed with violent anticipation.

And I retired to my chambers.

I stood still, watching the chaos unfold, feeling none of the triumph that filled their eyes, only guilt.

Jayden reappeared at the far end of the corridor, paint on his fingers and a towel slung over his shoulder. “What happened?” he asked, his eyes narrowing when he saw Father’s expression from the balcony.

“The Alpha King Wintle is dead,” I said flatly.

Jayden’s face shifted, not with delight, not with sorrow, just quiet resignation. “Then war is coming.”

“Father’s already preparing for it.”

Jayden let out a humorless chuckle. “Of course he is.” He wiped his hands, stepping back toward the doorway. “I want no part of this, Aiden. Let the politicians and killers dance their dance. I’ll stay out of their shadow.”

“You can’t just ignore it.”

“I can,” he said simply. “And I will.”

Then he turned and walked away nonchalantly.

I watched him go, envy twisting in my chest. He could walk away from duty. Why couldn't I? Why couldn't I bring myself to walk away from the affairs of the pack?

From my chambers balcony, I could see Darkmoon soldiers training harder, shouting louder, their eyes blazing with the thrill of conquest.

One of the younger warriors groaned as his sparring partner slammed him to the ground.

“Faster!” the captain barked. “If your blade moves slower than your heartbeat, you’re already dead!”

“I heard Nightfang doubled their border patrols,” one guard muttered under his breath.

“And I heard they still bleed red like the rest of us,” another replied, swinging his sword with a smirk.

Father stood on his own balcony overlooking them, clasping his hands behind his back, his silhouette sharp against the blood-orange sky.

He looked every bit the ruler he was, cold, calculative, and uncertain.

I wiped my tears and turned toward the horizon. Far beyond those jagged ridges lay the Nightfang territory, the home of innocent wolves. I’d seen it only once at a peace summit years ago. Riya Wintle and her family, she had been laughing that day, her father’s hand resting proudly on her shoulder.

Now that same girl would be mourning him.

And here I was, standing in the shadows of men who saw her grief as an opportunity.

I swallowed hard as the metallic taste of guilt coated my tongue.

War was coming. And even though every instinct in me screamed against it, I knew there was no stopping it now.

“Food is ready, sire,” a voice called softly.

I turned. Nora, my late mother’s personal maid, gray-haired, steady as ever, was the only warmth left in this cold castle.

“Thank you,” I muttered, pacing instead of moving. “Tell me, Nora… how do you live with it? All this…” I gestured toward the drills below. “…blood and pride?”

She gave a sad smile. “I serve my pack, my prince. That’s all I know.”

I laughed bitterly. “Then maybe I was born wrong. Father’s ready to attack a mourning pack, and we’re supposed to strike before the body’s cold.”

Her eyes softened. “You can’t change your father’s path.”

“I don’t want this war,” I snapped. “But I can’t stand against him either. It hurts, Nora.”

She stepped closer. “Then hurt quietly. You’re a man now. Men don’t break in front of the sun.”

Her words stung, but they were true. “So I’m supposed to just obey and pretend to be cool?”

She nodded, bowed, and left.

I was unable to touch the meal. My heart hammered in my chest; Father would lead, and soldiers would follow, then blood would spill.

I lifted my eyes to the sun hanging pale in the bright sky. It was the same one that shone over Nightfang.

The same one that watched as two packs were about to collide.

A shiver ran through me, not from fear, but from the weight of what was coming.