Chapter 1

Chapter 1

My baby brother is begging me for the third time to take him to the lake in the woods. He is starting to hurt my head with his exasperating pleading. Being ten years old, of course, he wants to go swimming. Today it's hot enough that you can’t stand it without cooling down in the lake. Stefan is only ten years old and not allowed to go to the lake by himself. Lately, it's been rogues and threats lurking in the forest.

“Stina, please take me swimming”

“Stefan, you can’t even swim that well.” I retort and stick my tongue out to tease him.

“Hey, that’s not fair.”

He looks offended.

I take his hand in mine and drag him out of the house as I start to run, and he is trying his best to keep up. When we are about to exit the packhouse, my father’s voice booms.

“Kristina! You'd better look after your brother and not be long, long. You know there have been some unnerving activities in the woods lately. Not even your Beta wolf is a match for what's on the horizon. I know Ayame is a strong beta wolf, so don’t try to contradict me.”

She looks at me like I said the dumbest thing in the world. That young woman can try an angel's patience. She turns her head and starts running again with Stefan by her side. She’s always been kind and responsible. She has always believed she’s an Alpha in disguise since the day she turned into her wolf at twelve years of age. Yes, she was early, my beautiful Kristina. But with Alpha lineage on her mother's side as well as mine, what can you expect?

I watch them enter the wooded area, reach out to my Beta over mindlink, and tell him to have warriors follow them so they get safely to the lake. He responds with, “I will assign them immediately, Alpha.”

There's no need to voice out how many or whom I want. They're my children, and he knows my requests. We are in sync like brothers. Barely do I close the mind link with my Beta before the broader patrol sergeant invades my mind and tells me our border has yet again been attacked by feral wolves. What the hell is this? Our pack is strong enough to discourage most from taking us. My wolf Zeff takes over. Within seconds, his heavy paws beat down on the dirt path through the woods as I feel my mate's wolf presence coming up beside me. Her feather-light and elegant movement is a beauty to see, and it's completely soundless. Her wolf, Amoux, is the wolf spirit of freedom. Birds, Bats, Air, Sky, Wind, Weather, & Flight. Yes, that’s in her spirit. Her grin when on a hunt is even scarier for me to see. The menacing grin is plastered on her wolf's snout as we effortlessly jump over stones and fallen trees on the path towards the border.

We arrive at the border, and the sights that greet us are one hundred wolves fighting off rogues trying to take our land. Before thinking, I jump on a huge wolf's back and bite down on its neck; I get soaked in its blood. My mate fights and kills as many as she can get her claws and teeth into. When both she and I are on top of the last two in the attacking wolves, I am knocked on my ass. Not by the rogues. I am on my side, howling out in pain, and I try to look for my wife, Hedvig. She's not in wolf form. The pain has turned her back. Her wolf must have retreated. She’s in as much pain as I am. I am not wounded, nor is Hedvig.

My wife is crawling towards me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I feel her heart breaking with pain. Only one can hurt this much: losing a mate or kids. I muster my strength and order my Beta to find my kids.

With great effort, I reach Hedvig’s side and hold her in my arms as we both try to find power and courage in each other's embrace: power to heal each other, courage to face what we both know in our hearts. The pain is momentarily gone; it stops as suddenly as it paralyzed me. I look at my mate, and she nods. She knows what I need to do. I run faster than I have ever before. I stop at the lake, and I see a few warriors serving as a shield—a ring.

I break through, and I see a lifeless Stefan being held by Kristina. He’s on her lap, wet and pale but looking like he is sleeping. A cold hand is squeezing my heart. My handsome little son. I had such great hopes for him and his two Alpha wolves.

Through gritted teeth and tears, Kristina tells me how Stefan took his life to save hers. So the rogues would spare her if he went into the deep part of the lake and drowned. She seems cold and emotionless, even though the tears run down her face.

The rogues attacked my border to lure all warriors there, and they sent wolves to attack my kids. I am sure. I know they must have been watching us. Tomorrow was meant to be the succession tournament. A competition for my heirs to determine who has the strongest wolf, and the strongest gets to be Alpha. How can I possibly keep to those plans? Lost in thoughts, my Beta reminds me we have to get back to the pack house and the Luna.

I keep to the old ways in some things, and when a wolf dies, the old custom is to have a funeral fire to release the wolf spirit so it can rejoin our divine wolf goddess.

Organizing a funeral for my 10-year-old son feels unfair.

I lift my son's body into my embrace, and I hold him as a delicate baby. We all walk in human form to the pack house, singing the song in Old Norse for when bringing home a warrior who laid down his life in battle for his pack. It is an honor to be singing this song, but I can’t feel the honor in singing this for my son, who only got to be ten years old.

Walking slowly into the vast grounds by the pack house, wolves are howling in sorrow for the loss of an Alpha heir. A Skrill voice takes on a tone to sing a beautiful and heartbreaking song in old Swedish. In sorrow, one thousand wolves walk towards the pack hospital so the healers can prepare his tiny body for the funeral rites. Besides me walks my mate. We are Alpha and Luna, so we led the way.

Within twelve hours, my son needs to be sent to our goddess, for his wolves can return to their mother with honor and be reborn. My son’s human soul needs to be released and given the honor of a warrior.

I walked into my office and locked the door. I want to be alone. I sat in my office chair looking out of the window as the sun set.

Hours have passed since I locked myself in. If I still sit here in my office, as I so often do. Maybe Stefan is still playing around the pack house when I walk out that door if I wish it badly enough. If only Selene, the divinity known as the werewolf goddess, would grant me my prayer.

The silence in the house is deafening. I know it’s just a silly wishful thought.

A light knock at my door alerts me to come back to reality. The scent of my mate creeps in from the door. A rattling keychain and the sound my door makes when it's unlocked reach my ears. I see her beautiful face, which is cut in stone, with determination not to let the tears fall that she is holding in. She is worried about our pack. If we both break, who will take care of our people? She is right. There is time to grieve later; right now, it is time to send our son to the afterlife.

I stand with a resolute demeanor. I take her hand and let her lead me to our bedroom, where she has put my funeral clothes on the bed for me, and she gestures for me to hit the shower. I get my shower and trim my beard. I did all my hygiene routine like a robot. It's getting dark outside, I notice as I enter the bedroom to get dressed. My pack is at the burial site, weiling in song as they are waiting for the Alpha family to enter in procession. As I am finishing, Hedda, as I call my wife, enters and holds out her hand for me to take. My hand takes her per automatically. It’s the only comfort known to me.

We walk in comfortable silence. Our steps feel heavy, but I can feel how she's scared of making too much noise. Behind us walk my children. Lennart, our oldest, who’s 18 years old, then Kristina, who’s 15, and our youngest, Kerstin, who is 13 years old. They walk in silence with their heads down.

When we enter as the oldest female sibling, Kristina sings to secure Stefan's safe passage to the afterlife. As all pack members are in a circle around Stefan, his body is on the unlit funeral pyre. He is dressed in light sun yellow to represent both the sun and the moon, from which all wolves descend. His clothing is ceremonial and features embroidered details of stars, the moon, the sun, and forest leaves and trees.

I heard a united, heart-wrenching howl from the whole pack of 2,500 wolves. And the fire is lit. Thick, swirling smoke reached high in the sky, sending him home. The smoke forms a cone, with thick smoke at the bottom and thinner higher in the sky. The smoke looks alive as it fights with itself and swirls up to the heavens.