The Alpha Sight
Chapter 45- The Alpha Sight
(Adelina's POV)
The Voice of the Moon is not a gift, child. It is a burden. You will hear it when the world needs blood. You will hear it when your heart begs for silence. You will obey it, or you will lose yourself.
The wolf leaned close until her breath mingled with mine.
Do you accept it?
Every instinct screamed that I shouldn’t. That power like this always came with a price.
But I thought of Oya’s grave, of the wolves who looked to me for hope, of the unborn life that pulsed quietly beneath my ribs.
I lifted my chin. “Yes.”
Then rise, Alpha of the Moon.
The wolf’s howl split the sky. Light burst through me like a flood.
When I came to, I was lying on the forest floor, chest heaving, the Crest glowing steadily against my skin.
Brin’s voice cut through the haze. “Adelina! Goddess—what happened?”
He was kneeling beside me, Mira behind him, both of them pale and wide-eyed.
I tried to sit up, but my body trembled violently. “The Matron… she spoke.”
Mira glanced around nervously. “We heard something, a howl that didn’t sound… mortal.”
“It wasn’t,” I whispered. My voice sounded strange to my own ears—deeper, resonant, like another tone vibrated beneath it.
Brin reached to help me up, then froze. “Your eyes,” he murmured.
I blinked at him. “What about them?”
“They’re… silver. Like the moon.”
I stumbled toward the riverbank to see for myself. He was right. My reflection shimmered pale and luminous, my pupils a faint ring of gold within the silver. The marks on my arms glowed faintly beneath my skin.
It should have terrified me. Instead, I felt calm.
“I’ve been chosen,” I said softly.
Mira swallowed. “Chosen for what?”
I looked back toward the grove. “For war.”
The following days were a blur of motion. The pack could sense the change even if they didn’t understand it. They moved with sharper discipline, eyes following me with something beyond loyalty reverence, maybe, or fear.
I couldn’t rest. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elara’s vision: Dax in chains, Sylvia’s smirk, the rivers of red.
And the voice—the Voice of the Moon—it never truly left. Sometimes it whispered warnings. Sometimes it was silent for hours only to roar back without mercy.
Watch the western ridge.
Do not trust the messenger who smiles too easily.
The child must be hidden before the eclipse.
I obeyed, even when it made no sense.
Each command brought safety in some form—an ambush avoided, a traitor uncovered, a trap defused. The pack started calling it the Alpha’s Sight. I let them. The truth was harder to explain.
But the power came with pain. Every time I used it, it left me weaker, bleeding from the nose, trembling like I’d fought a dozen battles at once.
By the seventh night, I could barely stand.
Mira begged me to rest. Brin tried to take the Crest from me once, thinking it was draining me. The moment his hand touched it, he was thrown backward, smoke rising from his fingertips.
I ran to him, horrified. “Brin—”
He sat up, dazed. “I’m fine,” he coughed. “But that thing—whatever it is—it’s alive.”
“It’s not a thing,” I said quietly. “It’s her voice.”
He looked at me then, eyes filled with worry. “How long before her voice becomes louder than yours?”
I didn’t have an answer.
The full moon began to wane, but its mark on me didn’t fade. One night, as I walked alone by the river, I felt the bond with Dax pulse faintly again—weak, fevered.
He was alive.
The Voice stirred inside me, softer than before.
You still love him.
I froze. “That doesn’t matter.”
It matters to the bond. To the child.
My throat went dry. “He chose Sylvia. He chose her kingdom over me.”
And yet your heart does not listen.
I pressed a hand to my chest, willing the ache away. “Why are you telling me this?”
Because love is your strength, but it will be your undoing if you do not wield it.
The moon’s reflection rippled in the river, breaking into a thousand shards. In that moment, I felt both small and infinite.
“Will I ever be free of you?” I whispered.
The wind stirred, carrying the faintest echo of a laugh—neither cruel nor kind.
Freedom and fate are the same when you belong to the moon.
I didn’t sleep that night. I sat beside the river until dawn, watching the light fade from silver to gold.
The world felt quieter, but not safer. The Voice had given me strength, yes—but also a burden heavier than any title.
As the first light touched the trees, a shadow moved on the far bank.
I stood instantly, claws half-forming at my fingertips.
Then I saw him.
Dax.
Bruised, limping, cloak torn, eyes sunken but alive.
For a heartbeat, everything inside me went still. The bond flared again, weak but undeniable.
He raised a hand in greeting—or surrender, I couldn’t tell.
“Adelina,” he rasped. “We need to talk.”
My pulse thundered. Behind him, I saw more shadows—his scouts, cautious and ready.
The moonlight still lingered faintly on the river’s surface, turning the scene ghostlike, unreal.
The Voice whispered one last time, so faint I almost missed it.
Trust him once more, and you may lose everything. But refuse him… and the war begins tonight.
I stared across the water, the Crest warm against my chest, the weight of prophecy pressing down like a hand on my throat.
Two choices.
No right answer.
I took a single step forward.
“Then speak,” I said, my voice steady though the world trembled around me.
And the moon, half-hidden by dawn, seemed to watch in silence—waiting to see what I would do next.