Chapter 97 FEAST OF THE MOON III
Adam's POV
The cheering swells as soon as the next wrestlers step into the ring.
It isn’t a proper ring— just a wide circle cleared in the dirt, torches planted around it, flames flickering high enough to paint moving shadows across the crowd. Two men face each other, bare-chested, muscles already gleaming with oil. They roll their shoulders, crack their necks, eyes sharp and hungry.
A man steps forward, voice loud and booming, carrying easily over the noise.
“Beautiful Ladies and high wolves of our clan!” he calls, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to the first clash of the night! Strength against strength! Pride against pride!”
The crowd roars.
I flinch a little, then laugh under my breath. Kael’s fingers tighten around mine, grounding me.
“That’s like a MC?” I ask.
Kael hums. “I think so.”
The man grins like he’s enjoying every second of the attention. “On my left, we have a man who eats rocks for breakfast and asks for seconds! On my right— someone whose mother still believes he’s a gentle soul!”
The wrestlers lunge at each other before he even finishes speaking.
Bodies collide with a dull, heavy sound that I feel in my chest. The crowd reacts instantly; shouting, laughing, chanting names I don’t catch. Dirt flies as one man is thrown to the ground, then scrambles back up, teeth bared in a grin that looks half-feral.
The MC keeps talking the entire time.
“Look at that grip! That’s not a hug, my friends, that’s a promise of pain!”
I find myself leaning forward, eyes glued to the fight. It’s brutal, but controlled. Every move is answered with another, and let me just say these men have no regard for their skin.
One of the men finally slams the other into the dirt hard enough to knock the air out of him.
The MC throws his hands up. “And that’s how you remind your opponent why humility is a virtue!”
The crowd explodes.
I realize I’m smiling.
When it ends, the wrestlers clasp forearms and bow to each other before stepping out of the ring. The respect feels just as loud as the violence.
Before the noise fully settles, the MC is already talking again.
“Now, now, don’t rest those voices! Because next— steel meets skill!”
Men carrying swords step onto the stage. The blades catch the firelight, silver flashing. The music shifts, drums slowing into a steady rhythm.
The swords move.
This is the sword dance. Kael had done it for me before.
They spin, clash, slide past each other with practiced grace. Footwork precise. Blades humming as they cut the air. It’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache, every movement sharp and deliberate.
Two swords cross inches from a man’s throat. He smiles.
The MC lowers his voice dramatically. “One wrong step… and we’d need a healer.”
Someone in the crowd yells, “Again!”
The dancers finish with a final, ringing clash that echoes into the night. The applause feels endless.
Before it fades, the MC claps loudly. “And now— magic!”
I blink. “Magic?”
Kael smiles, eyes reflecting the torchlight. “Watch.”
Figures in long robes step forward. The air changes. I don’t know how else to describe it. The heat shifts. The light bends.
One of them raises a hand.
A spark appears.
Then another.
Suddenly the air is full of floating lights, drifting like lazy fireflies. They change colors—blue, gold, silver—forming shapes that twist and collapse into something else.
A wolf made of light leaps across the stage.
I gasp.
The MC squints at it. “I told you not to make it look better than me.”
The wolf turns its head and promptly… sticks its tongue out.
The crowd bursts into laughter.
Another illusion forms: a towering Alpha with exaggerated muscles and a comically small head. It struts around, chest puffed out.
The MC puts his hands on his hips. “Hey! I look nothing like that!”
Someone shouts, “That’s generous!”
I laugh so hard my eyes water. Kael chuckles beside me, thumb brushing circles into my palm.
The illusions bow, dissolve into sparks, and the stage darkens.
For a heartbeat, everything is quiet.
Then music rises… soft, slow, almost dreamlike.
Women step onto the stage.
They wear flowing garments that shimmer like moonlight on water. As they move, the light moves with them— not from torches, not from the stage, but from the air itself. Illusions bloom around them— petals falling upward, stars drifting low, ribbons of light wrapping around their arms and legs.
The moon hangs full above us.
I forget to breathe until I feel the need to.
The dancers glide, spin, lift their arms, and the illusions follow, responding like living things. When one raises her hand, light spills from her fingers. When another turns, shadows ripple across the ground like waves.
The stage lights don’t just illuminate them, they become part of the dance.
I lean forward without realizing it.
Kael’s grip tightens. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
Drums join the music— slow at first, then faster. Fire erupts at the edges of the stage, controlled bursts that make the heat kiss my skin. The dancers move faster now, light and flame weaving together, the night alive with color and sound.
I feel small and infinite all at once.
When it ends, I realize my hand hurts a little.
I’ve been holding on too tight.
Kael lifts our joined hands, presses a kiss to my knuckles. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I just… this is a lot.”
“Just take a deep breath. Let me know if you need rest.” Kael said, giving me a brief back caress.
The MC returns, voice booming again. “And now the mighty Alphas of allied packs are about to step forward to show us their devotion!”
One by one, representatives step up, each gift announced with exaggerated flair.
“From the Iron Ridge— timber blessed by mountain spirits!”
“From Dawn Hollow— wine aged longer than most grudges!”
Laughter ripples through the crowd.
Then—
“From Star Moon!”
My chest tightens.
Their representative steps forward… I squeezed my eyes to see his face well. So that's Vance.
He looks calm, composed, dressed in dark tones that catch the light just enough to draw the eye without demanding it. The gift is unveiled— a beautifully crafted artifact, glowing faintly with magic.
The MC whistles. “Ah! Star Moon never arrives empty-handed, do they? Always subtle. Always impressive. A gift that says, ‘We see you. We remember.’”
Vance bows.
Our eyes meet for just a second.
Then he steps back.
When the last gift is presented, Kael stands up.
The entire field rises with him.
He doesn’t let go of my hand.
Cups are raised. Wine flows freely. Toasts are made. Kael drinks. He toasts with a bunch of people and each glass makes my stomach tighten with worry.
He leans close, as if aware of my worry. “I’m not getting drunk.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I just worry.”
He smiles softly. “That’s allowed.”
The celebration shifts.
The music grows louder. Conversations start overlapping, laughter sharp and bright. Alphas cluster together, voices low, smiles polite.
I catch fragments.
Trade routes.
Borders.
Defense.
This is clearly Politics.
Kael is pulled into it, still holding my hand, but his attention keeps getting tugged away. People greet him, congratulate him, praise the feast and Kael's great hosting.
I smile when I’m supposed to. But the air feels thick now, the noise presses in. My chest tightens.
I spot Heather across the field and instinctively tug Kael’s hand. “I want to—”
Kael squeezes gently. “Stay with me.”
I swallow and nod.
The drums start again somewhere behind us. Fire flares. Laughter rises too loud, too sharp.
My head swims.
The Feast is beautiful. But suddenly, it’s too much.