Chapter 60 THE FEAST OF WOLVES
Peace was more exhausting than war.
The Great Hall of the palace was more crowded than it had been in years. The Alphas of the five great packs bordering Volcan lands had come to offer their "congratulations." But Dorian knew better; they hadn't come to see babies. They had come to measure a threat.
Dorian sat at the head of the table. Serra was on his right. Kael stood in the shadows, looking like he was just holding a glass of champagne, but really caressing the handle of the knife under his jacket.
And in the center of the table, amidst the floral arrangements, stood that massive, custom-built twin stroller.
Atlas was awake. His silver eyes scanned the strangers at the table. Lyra was asleep; but with every breath she took, a thin layer of frost formed on the rim of the stroller.
"So the rumors were true," said Alpha Vane, leader of the South Pack. He held his glass up to the light. "The children are... different."
"Special," Serra corrected. Her voice was ice cold. She set her fork down hard on her plate. "They are special children, Vane. Not different."
Vane smirked. "Come on, Serra. We hear reports from the North. A dead forest blooming. Auroras appearing in the sky. These aren't the works of an infant. These are... the side effects of a weapon."
The other Alphas at the table shifted uncomfortably.
Dorian set his glass down. His voice was low, but it thundered through the acoustics of the hall. "I wouldn't advise calling my son and daughter 'weapons,' Vane. Or I will turn this dinner into your funeral feast."
(THE TEST AND THE REACTION)
Vane didn't back down. He was arrogant. "Just curious, Dorian. Is the Volcan Pack still a wolf pack, or has it turned into a freak show?"
Vane reached out. He wanted to touch the edge of the stroller, the side where Lyra slept. "Let me take a look at the ice girl. Is she really cold?"
"Don't touch," Dorian said.
But Vane didn't listen. He extended his index finger toward Lyra's cheek.
In that moment, two things happened at once.
First: Lyra opened her eyes. Crystal blue eyes flashed.
Second: Atlas sat up in the stroller.
Just as Vane's finger was about to graze Lyra, Atlas raised his tiny hand.
CRACK.
Vane's finger didn't break. Vane's finger froze instantly. But it wasn't normal frostbite; the finger turned into blue crystal in a split second. And then, with a flick of Atlas's hand, that crystal finger shattered into dust and spilled onto the table.
Vane screamed. He stumbled back, clutching his hand. "My hand! My finger! What did he do to me?!"
The other Alphas in the hall jumped up, reaching for their weapons.
"SIT DOWN!" Dorian roared. The Golden Seal on his chest flared.
But the real threat wasn't Dorian.
Atlas was standing up in the stroller, glowing with silvery light. And Lyra... Lyra was awake too. The air around her had dropped so low that the wine glasses on the table began to shatter one by one.
The babies weren't crying. They were just staring at the man who threatened them.
"I told you not to touch," Serra said, calmly taking a sip of her wine. "The children don't like strangers."
(NOT AN ALLIANCE, A SUBMISSION)
Vane was writhing on the floor. No blood flowed from his severed finger; the wound was cauterized by cold.
"You..." Vane looked at Dorian with hatred. "You are raising a monster!"
Dorian stood up. He walked slowly to Vane.
"I am raising a king," Dorian said. "And a queen."
He turned to the room. He looked at the other Alphas. There was pure terror on their faces. They had seen Atlas's power, Lyra's cold. These children wouldn't just grow up. They would rule.
"This is not an alliance dinner," Dorian said. "This was a warning. Do not cross my borders. Do not look sideways at my children. Volcan is not the old Volcan. Our power is not in our fangs... it is in our cradle."
The Alpha of the West Pack, an old man, slowly bowed his head. "Message received, Volcan. We will respect your borders."
The others, however reluctantly, bowed their heads too.
Dorian looked down at Vane. "Now go. And keep that missing finger as a souvenir of the day you overstepped."
Vane was dragged out of the hall by his men.
(THE MIDNIGHT CRY)
When the guests had left, the hall fell silent. Servants were cleaning up the broken glass and frozen wine stains.
Serra took the stroller to the bedroom. Dorian followed.
When the door closed, Dorian loosened his tie and took a deep breath. "We can't do this every day, Serra. We can't freeze everyone who threatens them."
"Why not?" Serra asked, picking Atlas up to burp him. "I thought it was quite effective."
"Effective," Dorian said. "But dangerous. Today Vane saw. Tomorrow the whole world will know. Everyone knows now that Atlas and Lyra aren't normal babies. They will come for us. Scientists, mages, governments..."
Just then, Atlas started to cry.
This wasn't a hungry cry. This was a scared cry.
Serra rocked him. "Shhh... Atlas, what's wrong, baby?"
But Atlas wouldn't stop. And as he cried, objects in the room began to float. Lamps, books, Dorian's sword... they all rose to the ceiling as if gravity had vanished.
"Lyra!" Dorian said. "Put him next to Lyra! She needs to balance him!"
Serra laid Atlas next to Lyra in the crib. Lyra immediately grabbed her brother's hand. The objects slowly floated back down to the floor. Atlas went quiet.
But Dorian frowned as he looked out the window.
"He wasn't crying from fear," Dorian said.
"What?"
"Atlas wasn't crying because he was scared," Dorian said, pulling back the curtain. Outside, at the palace gates, he saw the old Seer waiting. "He was announcing something."
The Seer looked up at Dorian from below and nodded.
The news had arrived.
Tonight, fingers weren't the only things that shattered. On the other side of the world, the tombs of the Old Kings had cracked open. Atlas's power had woken things that should have stayed asleep.