142

142
Diana's POV

I was standing on the dais, addressing thousands of faces. Witches in their colored robes. Were-animals as both animal and human. Even the town humans who had been drawn into wars. They all waited for me to talk, to tell them what was next.

The weight of their anticipation bore down on my shoulders. A week earlier I had been struggling to be alive. Now I was supposed to take an entire generation of people into a new age.

I drew in a deep breath as I let my voice float out over the crowd through magic.

“A week ago, we stood on a battlefield and fought for freedom. We had an opponent who wanted to make us slaves, to use us for his dark purposes. And we won.”

A shout went up in the crowd, but I raised a hand for quietness.

“But the victory would be disastrous. We lost friends, we lost family members, we lost people we loved. Ashley nearly died saving us. My own mother was subjected to years of torture. And hundreds on both sides of the soldiers will never make it home.”

The crowd was muted now, and in memory of their own losses.

“We can't resurrect the dead,” I pressed on. “But we can pay them the honor of trying to build something better. Something to show for what they had paid for.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts. This next part was crucial.

“I am now announcing the establishment of formal trials for all those war criminals we have caught during the course of this conflict. Malachi and Dave Vaughn as well as all the other leaders who committed crimes will have to answer for those offenses before a council of judges."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some approving, some angry.

"These magistrates will be chosen from all our people. Witches, werewolves and vampires have all been promised during upcoming Pride weeks. The DAs said the same trials would be public and transparent.”

"Why trials?" someone shouted from the crowd. "Why not just execute them?"

I had expected this question. "Because we are not barbarians. Which is to say, everyone deserves a fair hearing, even our enemies.”

“They did not treat our people fairly!” another voice called out.

"No, they did not. And that is precisely why we have to be different. We must show by example that our way is more decent, more humane and ultimately more likely to lead to peace and prosperity.”

The crowd was broken, and I fought on.

“The trials will commence in a fortnight. Up until that time, all prisoners are to be detained in a safe and humane facility. Anyone found to have abused prisoners would be punished themselves.”

I went on, describing a council system; so many representatives from such and such a major group would be elected, et cetera. No one group would wield overarching power. By the time I was done, my voice was hoarse and my legs were wobbling.

Afterward the crowd slowly broke up, and people were scattered in groups of four or five talking about what I had said. I heard arguments already beginning.

Sided, I said as I jumped off the platform to where Elder Miriam stood flanked by some of the elder witches. Their faces were stern.

“Luna Diana, we need to talk in substance,” Elder Miriam announced.

I walked with them to a tent that had been erected as a provisional council chamber. They turned to face me inside, arms crossed.

"This council thing you came up with," said one of the older witches. “It’s an equal opportunity for werewolves and witches. That is unacceptable."

I blinked in surprise. "Unacceptable? Why?"

“Because witches are more civilized, more intelligent, better equipped to rule. There should be more of us than werewolves.”

Anger flared in my chest. “That is precisely the thinking that brought about this war. Everyone believing they are superior."

“We’re not claiming to be superior, just better calibrated to make decisions.”

"No," I said firmly. “The whole idea as a council is equity. If we begin to grant greater power to one category than another, the system collapses.”

Before I could say another word, the tent flap was drawn back and Dante stepped inside with Alpha Marcus and two other werewolf pack leaders. They looked just as stern.

"Luna Diana," Alpha Marcus said. “We must talk about the council proposal.

“Let me guess,” I said wearily. “and you believe that werewolves ought to have more delegates?”

"Not more. But we worry witches would have as much of a say in pack laws and territory grievances. Those are werewolf issues."

“And werewolves don’t have a vote on magical regulation,” one of the older Isolationist witches snorted. "This system will never work."

I glanced back and forth between the two of them, sensing my anger building. "So your solution is what? We go back to the state of affairs where everyone is inside their own confines and we don’t pay attention to one another until the next war?”

“Better than this forced unison perhaps,” the elder witch said.

"Better? Hundreds of people just lost their lives fighting for unity — and you want to throw that in the trash because you can’t handle sharing power?”

“We are being realistic,” Alpha Marcus said. "Different peoples have different needs. Everything can’t be trying to force everyone into one system.”

"Then we find compromises! We establish sub councils to handle particular matters. Werewolf and witch questions are primarily resolved by werewolves and witches, but there is still a central council. Is that so impossible?"

The two sides eye balled each other down, neither would give in.

” We will think about it,” replied Elder Miriam at last. "But we make no promises."
They did, and left me alone in the tent. I seated myself with my face buried in my hands.

This was supposed to be a cakewalk. The war was over. Malachi was defeated. We were meant to be rejoicing.

Instead, the struggle was for power and position. The coalition I’d fought so hard to construct was already beginning to fissure.
Dante came in and sat down silently next to me. “Went well,” he said drily.

I laughed despite myself. "They are impossible. All of them. How do you want me to unite people who don’t want to be united?”
“Because you are hardheaded and we will not let you go,” Dante said, grabbing my hand. "Just like you always do."

"What if it does not work?"

"Then we try something else. But one week ago, they were killing each other. Now they are just arguing. That is progress."

I wished I could believe him, but doubt eat at me.

After all the meetings and arguments there, at night I stood by myself in my tent facing a mirror.
The reflection looking back at me was not quite there. My hair, black, was shorter and streaked with early gray. My face was thinner, more cut with new lines around the eyes. I had scars running up my arms and over my shoulders.

But it was my eyes that had been changed the most. They were once bright with hope. Now they were the eyes of someone who’d seen one too many deaths, made one too many tough decisions.

The girl at the festival of the full moon whom Caleb turned down seemed a distant memory. Once naive omega who never realized her biggest problem was being low ranked.
That girl was gone. Dead, crushed under years of trauma and responsibility.

Part of me mourned her loss. She had been a simple girl, who still managed to be joyous despite her hard life, full of dreams about love and family.

But a part of me was relieved she was gone. That girl was never gonna survive what I went through. Never could have led armies or made the hard decisions.

I had become someone stronger. Someone harder. Ability to fall through when the situation called for it.

Was that better? I did not know anymore.

There was a gentle rapping at the door. "Come in," I called.

My mother stumbled in, slow but sure. She had really, truly pulled through in the past week.
"You ought to be in bed," I said.

"So should you," she replied. "But here we both are."

She stood beside me, face-to-face with our reflections.

“You look like me now,” she said quietly. “When I was queen, before everything went to hell, and you were the dirt worm. That weight is in your eyes.”

"Is that good or bad?"

"Neither. It just is. Leadership changes you."

I put my hand on her shoulder and rested my head against it. "I am so tired, Mother. Tired of the fight, tired of deciding something in every step, tired to always be strong”

"I know, daughter. I know."

"How did you do it? How did you lead the witches and still be yourself?”

My mother paused, at a loss for words. "I did not. Stay myself, I mean. I changed and so will you. The person I was as a young girl went away. But that was alright. Because I was a woman then, and the girl would never have been able to do it.”

“But what if I turn into someone I don’t want to be?”

"Then you change again. You're not engraved in stone, Diana. You still can be strong when you have to, and gentle when you need to. And the two do not have to be in some kind of zero-sum relationship.”

I thought about that. Maybe she was right. Perhaps I didn’t have to be one of two things: the naive girl or the world-weary queen.

"Thank you, Mother," I murmured.

"Always, my daughter."

I gave her a goodbye kiss, and then I was alone once more with my reflection. But this time, when I gazed at the woman staring back at me in the mirror, I saw not only the scars and toughened-ness but also victory and determination.

I had changed. War had changed me. But I was still Diana. But still a fighter for what was right, who coddled the ones she loved, who never lost her grit.

And maybe that was enough.