Chapter 12

Zeil stood with his back to the tall windows of his chamber, arms crossed, his eyes on the world outside.

The wind brushed against his cheek, cold and soft like a whisper. It didn’t make him shiver. In fact, it made him feel stronger. More in control.

For once.

A thin smile stretched across his lips.

“It all ends here today,” he whispered.

Behind him, a knock came, not loud, just firm enough to announce presence.

“Young Lord?” Kael’s voice floated in from the other side. “They’re waiting.”

Zeil’s smile deepened, Malicious, Confidence, Sharp like the blade beneath a silk cloth.

He turned slowly, smoothing down his robe. His shoulders were square, movements calculated. Calm. He walked out with Kael silently falling into step behind him.

The hallway was quiet, but outside the grand WindClaw Hall, voices stirred. The tension in the air was tight, pulled like a bowstring.

They entered.

And the silence that followed was thick.

The hall was filled with members from both the Ironfang and Velmor families. Two ancient clans, known for their strength, for their loyalty, and for their pride. They stood across from each other like opposing tides, each unwilling to break first.

Topa Ironfang, the one who was meant to marry the girl stood like a mountain in the middle of it all. Arms crossed, back straight, a sneer that seemed permanent on his face. His dark hair fell over one eye, giving him the look of a wolf always ready to pounce. Muscles bulged from beneath his armor, and he radiated the arrogance of someone used to getting exactly what he wanted. He already had four wives, four which never spoke unless he asked and he liked it that way.

He didn’t flinch when Zeil entered.

And the Ironfang Elder, still pale from his previous encounter with Kael. He was still pale and visibly shaken from his earlier encounter with Kael’s chilling display, stood rigidly, his eyes darting between Zeil and Kael with a mixture of fear and simmering resentment.

Elara stood near her parents. The soft-eyed healer looked smaller in this room filled with snarls and teeth. Her brown hair was braided loosely, strands falling over her pale cheeks. Her robes were clean but simple no decorations, no pride. Her hands folded tightly in front of her as though holding herself together.

She didn’t lift her eyes when Zeil stepped forward.

She didn’t need to, Zeil had felt her pain before a word was spoken.

He stood before the crowd, gazing cold. They bowed,some with grace, some reluctantly.

He didn’t care.

“I summoned you here,” Zeil began, voice clear but not loud, “to resolve the dispute between the Velmor and Ironfang families. This conflict threatens not only your houses but the peace of the entire WindClaw territory...”

Topa snorted loudly, interrupting him.

“With all due respect, Young Lord,” he said, voice heavy and deep, “this matter was settled years ago. Before the girl could walk, she was promised to me. A deal made. A vow sealed. It's tradition. It’s law.”

He puffed out his chest like a proud peacock, his words echoing through the hall. “I fail to understand why you see it fit to meddle in a matter already decided.”

Kael’s aura flared, just a whisper of the raw power he’d displayed earlier. The Ironfang Elder flinched, his bravado crumbling.

Zeil didn’t blink.

He stepped forward, slicing through the tension like frost through morning mist.

“Tradition and law,” Zail said slowly, “exist to protect the people. Not to chain them.”

He looked around the hall, letting the words hang. Then his eyes found Elara, still silent.

“She is not cattle,” he continued. “She is a healer. A skilled one. Vital to our pack’s strength. Her happiness matters. Her ability to thrive matters.”

Topa scoffed, voice thick with disdain. “Happiness?” He turned toward Elara. “She’s an omega. Her purpose is to serve, to bear pups for her mate, to heal when needed. Happiness has no place in duty.”

Zeil’s jaw clenched. The words were a knife twisting in his own hidden wound.His own life was a testament to that suffocating expectation.

And for a moment, he saw himself in Elara’s place.

Same chains but different forms.

“Her purpose is her own,” he said quietly. “And while tradition holds weight, it does not supersede the right of a wolf to choose their path.”

The Velmor Elder, Brennus stepped forward, his tone more cautious.

“Young Lord, we are grateful for your consideration. Elara… she has found love with one of our warriors, a beta named Finn. Their bond is true.” He looked at Elara, a gaze of proud defiance in his eyes.

Topa growled low in his throat.

“Love?” Topa sneered, advancing towards Elara. “What is love to an omega? A passing fancy. She is mine as promised. You dare to defy the laws of the pack, Velmor's?”

The Velmor's family bristled, their hackles raising instinctively. Beta Finn eyes narrowed, a warning in their depths.

Zeil raised his hand.

“Silence”

“I have decided,” he said. “There will be a match”.

Gasps echoed through the hall.

Zeil continued, “Topa Ironfang and Finn Velmor will fight against my personal guard.”

The crowd froze completely.

Zeil’s tone remained even. “Whoever defeats him before the stick of incense finishes will have Elara’s hand. Win through strength… or lose your claim.”

The room erupted in chaos, voices clashed like thunder, Protests, Cries. Elara’s gasp was the softest, but Zeil heard it.

The Ironfang Elder looked smug. Topa smirked with confidence. After all, he was a peak first-class warrior while Elara looked crushed.

But Zeil smiled, because this wasn’t about Elara.

It was about Kael.

Kael who had seen him broken. Kael who knew too much. Zeil had planned earlier to get him killed soon or later so this he saw as a perfect opportunity. In the open. In the name of custom. With the support of law. No questions. No suspicions.

Zeil would wear the mask of fairness… while breaking the wolf who saw too much.

‘Let them weaken him,’ Zeil thought. ‘Let them drain the last drop of arrogance from his veins.’

‘And when he falls, if not here, then soon after I’ll finish what should’ve ended in that room. Once weak I'll kill him with my bare hands’

Zeil didn’t smile, but the corners of his lips twitched. Kael yawned, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. He looked at the incense stick that Zeil handed to an attendant.

“Damn brat,” Kael muttered to himself, yawning, “so this is how you want to play aye”

He stepped into the ring, quiet, relaxed, the usual stick in his mouth, the leaves shaking faintly with each slow breath.

He didn’t know it yet.

But Zeil had already marked him.

And this challenge?

This was just the start.