~Riya~

The wind carried the scent of burning sage and grief. Funeral drums echoed through the courtyard, deep and hollow, matching the rhythm of the ache in my chest.

Father’s pyre stood tall at the heart of the ceremony, surrounded by white-cloaked elders chanting the rites of farewell. The flames danced higher, licking at the dawn sky like desperate hands reaching for heaven.

I stood at the front, my hands trembling inside my gloves. The gold pendant Father had given me, the one with our family crest, felt heavier than ever around my neck.

“May the Moon guide your soul, Alpha Wintle,” the High Priest intoned.

The crowd murmured their goodbyes. Wolves from nearby packs had come in silence, Silverfang, Moonveil, Bloodrun, all dressed in mourning black. But one name was missing from the guest list.

Darkmoon.

They were forbidden to attend. For peace, the council had said. For safety.

I’d wanted to believe that. But in my gut, I knew peace was a fragile lie.

Mother stood beside me, regal despite the sorrow painting her face. Luna Siairah Wintle, once the fiercest warrior beside Father, now the woman holding a pack together with nothing but sheer will.

She leaned close, her voice barely a whisper. “Be strong, my love. Today, we bury your father… but tomorrow, we must protect what’s left of him.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, Mother.”

The moment the flames consumed the last of Father’s cloak, a low horn blast echoed through the hills.

At first, I thought it was part of the ritual. But then came another sound, shouts, and guards running toward us.

“Darkmoon approaches!” one of them screamed from the watchtower.

The wolves became scared. Pack rulers gathered themselves and turned to leave. Elders scrambled, warriors reached for weapons, and mothers pulled their children close.

Mother’s eyes went wide. “No… not now. Not today.”

But it was too late.

From the northern ridge, the black banners of Darkmoon unfurled against the horizon. Their wolves moved like shadows spilling across the valley, mercilessly.

My hands clenched around my sword. “They dare attack during a funeral?”

“Riya, get inside the castle!” Mother commanded, her voice trembling only slightly.

“No.” I stepped forward, fire coursing through me. “Father died protecting this pack. I won’t hide while they destroy it.”

“Riya…”

But I was already running.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Arrows streaked across the sky like burning comets. Warriors clashed, steel against steel, the air thick with smoke and war cries.

The smell of blood replaced the scent of incense.

I reached the front gates, breathing heavily, and barked orders at the soldiers. “Defend the ridge! Don’t let them breach the walls! Shield the east flank, NOW!”

They obeyed instantly, their loyalty born from years of watching me train beside my father.

“Alpha’s daughter fights!” someone shouted, raising morale.

I raised my sword, shouting back, “For Nightfang!”

“For Nightfang!” they echoed, their voices thunderous against the storm of war.

The first wave hit. Darkmoon’s soldiers were brutal and fast. I blocked a blade, spun, and drove my sword through the attacker’s side. Another came; I slashed, ducked, and rolled.

Sparks and screams filled the funeral ground.

A flash of silver caught my eye, an enemy warrior, taller than the rest, his movements precise, though deadly. His blade met mine with a force that sent shock through my arm.

For a heartbeat, our eyes locked.

Storm-gray and focused. Familiar in a way that made my wolf stir restlessly inside me.

Our swords collided again, harder this time. The sound was thunder in my ears. His strike was clean, sharp, but not meant to kill. It was as if he was testing me.

“You die today,” I breathed.

He didn’t answer.

Then my wolf surged; her light flickered under my skin, gold and bright, spilling through the cracks of my rage. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, as though something inside him recognized me.

The connection was electric and confusing, yet wrong.

I hesitated, and he stepped back, retreating into the chaos before I could react.

But the hesitation cost me.

A blast shattered the courtyard gates. Warriors screamed as Darkmoon’s second wave poured in, thicker, louder, and unstoppable.

“Fall back!” I shouted, trying to regroup the troops. But the lines were breaking.

From the castle gates, I saw Darius himself, Alpha of Darkmoon, watching the carnage unfold with calm satisfaction. His eyes were cold and calculating.

Then his soldiers dragged someone forward, Mother.

“No!” I screamed, shoving through the battlefield.

They threw her to her knees before Darius.

“Luna Siairah of Nightfang,” he said, his voice like poisoned silk. “I offer mercy. Surrender your lands, your warriors, and your daughter, and I’ll spare the rest.”

Mother lifted her chin, defiance gleaming in her tears. “You call this mercy? You burn the living to bury the dead!”

Darius smiled faintly. “Then burn with them.”

He raised his hand.

Before I could reach her, fire engulfed the courtyard again, this time from barrels of pitch hurled from catapults. The castle itself caught flame.

“Mother!” I screamed, sprinting through the smoke.

A beam collapsed in front of me. The heat seared my face. I stumbled, coughing, reaching through the ash and flame.

“Riya!” someone grabbed my arm, it was one of our warriors, half-burned, bleeding. “We have to retreat!”

“I can’t! My mother…”

“She’s gone!”

The words hit harder than the fire.

My knees gave out. But before I could collapse, I saw him again, the gray-eyed warrior. The same one from before.

He was standing beside Darius now, but his sword was lowered, and his expression conflicted.

I tried to reach him, to say something, anything, but a sudden blow to my back sent me sprawling.

Pain exploded, and my vision blurred.

Hands grabbed me, dragging me across the scorched earth. I fought, kicked, clawed, but I was weak. Too weak.

“Don’t kill her,” one of Darius’s generals barked.

“Yeah, you shouldn't,” came another voice, low, steady, and familiar. The gray-eyed warrior. “The Alpha will want her alive.”

Darkness tugged at the edge of my mind. The sounds of battle faded into a dull roar.

I could still hear the screams, the collapsing walls, the crackling fire devouring everything my father built.

Then the whole world blurred, and everything went dark.