Chapter 38

Chapter 38
The darkness in the North never truly faded. In the Frostfang territory, night was permanent, only broken by snowstorms and the pale blue light of roaring smelter furnaces. Alpha Draven, the harsh and unforgiving ruler of the northern regions, sat on a throne carved from black granite, a polar bear fur cloak wrapped around his broad shoulders. He was more than just a large wolf; he was a refined war machine, with old scars running across his face like frozen rivers.

Before him, Tyrus, his loyal Beta, knelt, his breath releasing thick white vapor in the cold air. Tyrus had just returned from scouting the southern border, the territory guarded by Orion's Crescent Pack.

"Speak," Draven commanded, his voice low and rumbling like cracking ice. He was impatient. The failure of the scouting patrol was irritating, but what bothered him more was the lack of a satisfactory explanation.

"Alpha, we lost seven of our best warriors," Tyrus reported, not daring to lift his gaze. "It wasn't Orion's patrol that decimated them. It was... something else."

Draven raised an eyebrow. His golden-yellow eyes flashed under the furnace light. "Something else? Has Orion finally dared to hire a witch to protect his borders? Do not insult me with superstition, Tyrus."

"Not superstition, Alpha. We recovered one survivor, who is mad with fear, but he gives a consistent testimony. It was a wolf. A female wolf. Not an Alpha, not a Beta. But her power..." Tyrus trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Continue," Draven pressed.

"Her power was like a storm. They say, a silver energy shield. Not the usual Alpha aura, Alpha. It was more ancient. More raw. Like the moon's energy itself concentrated into a single entity. In one strike, she felled five of our wolves without touching them. She doesn't control, Alpha. She unleashes."

Draven leaned back, a thin, dangerous smile appearing on his lips. "Silver. Raw moon energy. An anomaly appearing in Orion's territory after eight years. You are not telling me you saw a ghost, Tyrus. You are telling me you saw a rejected Luna."

Tyrus was stunned. "The Luna? But... we assumed she died in exile. Wasn't she just a weak girl cast out by Orion eight years ago?"

"No she-wolf with the Old Moon Blood lineage is weak, Beta," Draven corrected scornfully. "There are only she-wolves who haven't learned how to break bones with their minds. And that foolish Orion has done the most dangerous thing: he gave that power time to grow in the darkness."

Draven rose from his throne, his cloak sweeping the stone floor. He walked toward the furnace, letting the heat lick at his skin. "Do you know why I am so interested in destiny, Tyrus? Because destiny is a machine. And Orion, with his typical stupidity, has broken the machine's control lever."

"I do not understand, Alpha," Tyrus said.

"The Primal Luna prophecy. Why do you think Alpha Kael was so protective of that girl? Not out of love. It was out of fear. Kael knew that power was like a nuclear bomb—untouchable, yet too valuable to destroy. It could only be safely bound by the mate bond. The bond was its seal."

Draven turned his gaze back to Tyrus, his eyes glinting with triumph. "Orion, in his grief over his father's death, listened to the cowardly whispers of the Elders. He rejected the bond. He tore the seal, Tyrus. He released that power from emotional control, making it wild and unbound. He did not cast out a weak Luna. He created the strongest weapon on this continent."

Draven laughed, the sound dry and unpleasant. "He rejected his mate for fear that the Ancient Blood would draw Draven. But what he did was give Draven the best incentive to come and take her."

"So, should we attack now, Alpha?" Tyrus asked, battle spirit reigniting.

"No. Haste is a weakness. We let Orion bear the burden of this anomaly for a while. Let him feel the fear he planted himself. I want him to exhaust his resources, divide his pack, and doubt his decisions. The girl, Alena, she is an unstable variable. She will be a thorn in Orion's side."

Draven gestured toward a strategic map made of leather that lay on a stone table beside him. The map showed not only the territory boundaries, but also the ancient lines of spiritual power.

"I need to know how much her power has grown in exile. I need to know if her hatred for Orion is greater than her loyalty to the pack that abandoned her," Draven mused. "Summon Damian. Give him a deep reconnaissance mission. No fighting. Only observation."

"Damian?" Tyrus hesitated. Damian was a warrior from a clan Draven conquered, known for his cunning but questionable loyalty.

"Yes. Damian is smart and inconspicuous. Let him infiltrate the Crescent Pack. He will be our eyes and ears. We need to know how Orion reacts to the return of 'the curse.'"

Draven turned to the window, looking south. "If she is the prophesied Primal Luna, she is the key to unifying all wolves under one banner. And I am the Alpha meant to hold that banner, not the sentimental Orion."

He walked toward a shelf behind his throne, taking down an extremely old scroll of parchment, tied with a snakeskin ribbon. The parchment felt cold in his hands. This was one of the Ancient Prophecy Books he had stolen years ago, detailing the Old Moon lineage.

He unrolled the scroll. It wasn't the writing that caught his attention, but the illustration drawn in dried blood in the corner: The symbol of the mate bond. Two wolves entwined, connected by a single glowing silver thread.

Next to that image was a crude sketch, added by an ancient scholar as a warning: an illustration of a rejected bond. There, the silver thread was not merely broken. It had been violently pulled until it shattered into fragments, each shard emitting wild, erratic energy that formed a storm-like circle around the two wolves.

Draven touched the illustration of the chaotic storm. He could feel the echo of the uncontrolled pain and power it depicted. The energy created by rejection was the purest, most destructive energy.

"Orion," Draven whispered into the brittle parchment, his cruel sneer widening. "You tore your own destiny, and in the process, you have created a storm that will sweep the entire continent. You tore the paper of the bond, and I will use its shards to stab you in the heart."

Draven closed the scroll with a sense of cold anticipation. The game had begun. And the eye from the North was now focused entirely on one target: the Primal Luna unleashed by a torn destiny.