Malaikat Elang

Lily

“I won’t do it,” Lily said, glaring at the man opposite her. “I never do, and I never have.”

They were almost eye-to-eye as they leant across the table towards one another. The man – her father – sighed, his shoulders slumping. He’d tried.

“You know I worry about you. This desire of yours – this urge – it’s not natural for creatures like us. And you’re a warrior, Lils, a Warrior Wolf, destined to fight for your pack. Tying yourself up every month when the moon is full doesn’t sit right with me, and it never has.”

Lily straightened up, her long, dark blonde hair brushing across her shoulders and tumbling in soft waves down her back. Her brown eyes hardened, but there was something sad, ancient and aching and longing, that she desperately buried beneath layers of stone as she spoke.

“Mum died because of this pack,” she spat. “This fight – it’s not ours, Dad, can’t you see that? It’s between the Alphas, not us.”

He ran a hand through his short hair, pushing it so that it swept back across his head. It was a few shades darker than hers, but their olive skin was identical, and their eyes held the same defiant glint that shone, with the cold light of the furthest stars, even in the dim light of their dining room.

“Alpha Atticus leads this pack, Lils, and we’re part of this pack. Like it or not, it’s our duty, our birthright, to defend the Blood Moon wolves. Your mother didn’t die because of this pack – she died for this pack. For all of us, including you.”

“Don’t say that,” Lily snarled. It was the same argument they had every month, every time that the moon was full. Duty or not, Lily would staunchly refuse to join in with the Blood Moon pack’s fights. They managed to find quarrel with a neighbouring – or sometimes distant – pack every month, and they would always agree to settle their qualms the same way: with a battle to the death, or submission, on the night of the full moon. 

Shifting into her wolf form, however, was not something she could refuse; no matter how much she might want to stay human. So, on the night of the full moon, Lily would tie herself down in her family’s old wine cellar, restraining herself so that, when the beast took over, she knew she would be able to control it as best she could. She didn’t trust her mental hold over her wolf-side, not yet, but the iron chains held her back. She wouldn’t hurt anyone down there; she couldn’t.

She’d only had to suffer through the transition for two years, but she’d never fought. Not once had she experienced the shift outside of the cramped, damp wine cellar, though she’d been told that to change beneath the light of the full moon was an unparalleled experience, particularly when undergone alongside one’s pack. Every month she fought the urge to break free of her chains, and, even if the beast took hold, Lily would struggle against herself, her nature, to stay down until the sun rose once more.

That was when the cheering began, and, despite everything, it was the part Lily hated the most. It was a ritual, a chant, of bestial sound of raw celebration. To the other wolves, especially the other warriors, it was an honour to sing and to hear that rugged, out-of-tune singsong. To Lily, it marked another night of death.

Her dad sank into a chair, its heels scraping against the wooden floor. An empty vase shook slightly with the movement, unbalanced with no water or flowers to hold it down. It had stood empty since her mother’s death, three years ago, now; neither she nor her father had the heart to get rid of it, but neither of them could bear to fill it again, not without her there.

“I miss her too, you know,” he said quietly, his dark eyes crinkling, softening as he sank back into himself. His fire had died, and in its place a flower grew, extending its leaves to Lily as a peace offering. “Your birthday is coming up soon, your eighteenth, and you’ll find your mate then. You’ll understand.”

With trembling fingers, she took hold, pulling out a chair and straddling it backwards. “I know you do. And, mate or not, I won’t want to shift. I don’t like arguing with you, Dad, I just – I can’t stand it. So much violence, and for what? What is tonight’s battle even over?”

He sighed again, scrubbing at his cheeks with calloused hands. “A borderline. Alpha Atticus believes the White Oak pack are infringing upon our territory.”

“The White Oaks?” Lily’s eyebrows shot up. “But they’re a peaceful pack. They won’t put up a fight.”

Her dad raised one eyebrow at her, sitting back in his chair. “They aren’t peaceful. They’re sneaky. They push and they push and they push, until they either get what they want, or they can play the part of the victim when those they have wronged fight back. They’ve been pushing, Lils, taking our woodland and claiming it as their own.”

“I don’t see why we can’t just share the woodland,” Lily huffed. “It’s not exactly worth dying for, is it?”

“The Blood Moon pack have a reputation to uphold. You grew up with Atticus – you know what he’s like. When his father stepped down, he passed on leadership of the most powerful pack in this entire continent. Atticus is doing what he must. As will I.”

But Lily was shaking her head, the determination in her eyes fading, shifting into sadness, desolation. “You know what I think. Alpha Atticus is a bully, and he has been for a long time, now. Giving him this power has twisted his already warped mind. How long has he been the Alpha now? Three years, give or take? Think of everything he has done in that time. Alpha Alvaro was tough, sure, and he had a mean streak, but he wasn’t cruel. We weren’t fighting every full moon, and you know it, Dad. You just won’t accept it.”

Despite herself, Lily felt a flare of affection for Alpha Atticus. He’d been pig-headed at school, uninterested in education and learning and self-betterment. But he’d had a fiercely protective streak, and he’d hated to see the weak fall prey to the more vicious students. In a world where pack status was everything, Atticus had, for a time, looked out for the Omegas at the pack school.

He was older, too, broad and handsome, in a rugged, typically masculine way. As a Warrior Wolf, Lily had always been able to look out for herself. But she’d appreciated Atticus’s efforts from a distance, until age and time and status had changed him, too. 

Even before her mother’s death, Lily had abhorred violence of any kind. It was pointless and tragic, a means to an end that ruined people, and ruined people’s lives. Then such violence had stolen her mother, all for the sake of a witch. 

One pack had staked a claim on a woman; a woman who was rumoured to be the most powerful witch in the continent. The Blood Moon pack, in one of Atticus’s first acts as Alpha, had positioned themselves to claim her as their own. Witches were not only useful for their spell work, but also as signs of power and status. To command a witch in the world of wolves was to signify one’s influence, and, above all, the Blood Moon pack craved power, and status, and influence.

“Alpha Alvaro set this pack up to do great things. Atticus is carrying on as his father intended. Tonight, as the moon rises, we will stand on the battlefield, and we will claim back our rightful land, staking our territory and marking it in blood. I know you won’t join us, Lily, but I wish you would. Your abstinence makes me think that your mother died in vain. She wouldn’t have wanted you to hate yourself over her death.”

“I don’t hate myself,” Lily frowned. She stood abruptly, the vase rattling, tilting to and fro before settling. “I hate that we use our nature to achieve violent ends. And don’t make this about Mum,” she added, shoving her chair under the table.

“Lils – I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” She gave him one final, pleading look. “I’m going to the cellar. I wish you would join me there.”

“I can’t.” The words were choked, broken. “I can’t.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, once you have marked the woods with the blood of your enemies. Oh, wait – only they aren’t your enemies, are they? They’re innocent people, who probably need the woodland for food, or for shelter.” She shook her head, her mouth curling in disgust. “Sometimes, I think Mum died in vain, too.” She swept out of the room, squeezing her eyes shut to hide her tears.

“Lily!” Her dad cried out after her, but she was already gone.