AN UNSUCESSFUL CEREMONY

Silverwood Pack

The sacred hall was filled with elites from all around the packs, celebrating the accession of a new king—a new, complete Alpha. Tension ran high, given that the king was still missing and his first daughter was now an outcast, perhaps even dead. The news had traveled beyond the borders. But still, the merriment of the wedding was not fully masked. Activities were a handful, duties practiced diligently, everyone making sure that the Alpha’s big day went without any mishaps.

The Alpha’s beta seemed swamped in thought, perhaps pondering that prophecy, but still keeping it cool to ensure he did not ruin the big day. Earlier, when he had mentioned the roaring of the sky and the bleeding moon and aligned it with an ancient prophecy, Alpha Aldrin had dismissed the claim and called it bullshit.

The story about Reign had died, as if swept away by a wild wave that commanded even the air not to remember her name anymore. The red carpet was now clear of the skanky photos that had served as evidence of her crimes. A stain eliminated.

Erect at the sacred altar stood two figures—Alpha Aldrin and Spenza, who was now about to be crowned as Luna. Neither of them seemed to care about Reign. Not even Spenza, her sister. She was all smiles, tying the knot with a man who had been her sister’s until minutes ago. The glee of becoming Silverwood’s Luna had blinded her that much, or so people thought.

Then again, traitors were never shown even a shred of mercy, not even by those who shared their blood. That was the way of the supernatural world. One betrayal, and you were cut off as though you had never belonged.

“By the power bestowed upon me by the Alpha King in absentia,” the seer announced, and the air in the room shifted, heavy with unseen energy. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Shouts of joy, mixed with whispers of uncertainty, filled the sacred hall as the newly wed couple embraced in a kiss to seal a love that nobody quite understood—how it had rooted and bloomed so fast, so mysteriously.

Three wise men sat silently in turmoil throughout the session. Their faces spoke of uncertainty, grief, and disapproval.

How did we not see this coming?

How did this even happen? One sister banished, replaced by the other.

I don’t feel good about this union. This might be a mistake the whole pack will pay for—dearly.

This has never happened in the history of the Silverwood Pack. This is wrong.

The wise men whispered among themselves, barely breathing the words. Nobody wanted the Alpha or those close to him to catch wind of their apprehensions.

Now came the crowning.

The seer asked Alpha Aldrin to step forward so that he could receive the sacred sword—a symbol of concentrated authority—and the crown that would complete the enthronement.

He held the golden, shining sword in both arms, stretching it toward the Alpha, whose arms were already spread wide to receive the power.

“I now hand over this sword to you,” the seer said, “as a symbol of power to rule this pack with love, care, and equality among us all. You shall not raise this sword against any innocent soul, nor rule with malice, for the punishment from the goddess will be brutal. Receive now the power, and rule with wisdom and love.”

The Alpha, wearing a broad smile, touched the sword, accepting it with a joy that could not be masked.

“I will rule with guidance from the goddess,” he said simply.

No promise. No oath beyond that.

The moment the words left his mouth, the sun was swallowed by the moon in a heartbeat, and the day dimmed unnaturally. Something shifted—perhaps with the shift of power itself.

Heads turned. Eyes locked. Questions hung heavy in the air.

The beta looked through the window, and his face dulled. He locked eyes with Alpha Aldrin, communicating something through the mind link that no one else could hear.

Alpha Aldrin did not allow anything to blur his joy. He dropped to his knees before the seer, ordering that the ceremony continue.

Ignoring the subtle yet terrifying change in the weather and adhering to his Alpha’s command, the seer proceeded, lifting the freshly made crown that resembled that of the missing Alpha King.

He hesitated, inspecting the crown as if struck by doubt—either questioning the decision to crown a new Alpha or battling an inner voice urging him to stop.

The Alpha lifted his head, his eyes shifting to a dangerous golden hue. “I am waiting, Seer.”

The silent roar of his dominance slammed into the seer, forcing his hands to tremble as he placed the crown on the Alpha’s head without another word.

“I now crown you Alpha of the Silverwood Pack,” the seer said, his voice barely audible as he stepped back. “Long live Alpha Aldrin.”

“Long live the Alpha!” The chant erupted from the crowd, drum rolls thundering as the shouts for the new king began.

But a second later, a loud, deafening roar tore through the sky.

Everything stopped.

A violent wind surged through the pack, snapping branches and howling like a wounded beast, filling the air with fear.

Murmurs erupted as the clash of wind and thunder created a terrifying rhythm, chaos rippling through the pack members.

The seer’s eyes swept the crowd until he found the other seers. They exchanged knowing glances before he shut his eyes and tilted his head upward, as though listening beyond the ceiling.

Alpha Aldrin sprang to his feet, baffled. He reached for his beta through the mind link, and within half a second, the beta appeared before him.

“My Alpha,” he said, bowing slightly.

“What is happening?” the Alpha demanded.

The beta shook his head, speaking volumes in a silent language the alpha understood all too well.

The wind grew stronger. Trees cracked. The heavens continued to roar again and again until people covered their ears to escape the deafening sound.

“We need to complete the ritual,” Spenza said urgently.

They still needed to walk around the silver ring seven times. It symbolized the goddess’s acceptance of both the coronation and their bond. Only then could the marking proceed. Without completing the silver ring, the coronation would remain unfinished, and their bond deemed wrong—unnatural.

The chaos became unbearable, now mingling with the screams of wolves howling in fear of danger and pups crying. The walls of the sacred hall began to shake. Panic spread as members scrambled away from the trembling structure.

“What do we do, Alpha? This seems like—”

“Shut it!” Alpha Aldrin snapped, his command crashing through the hall. “Go to the guards and have them escort her to my chamber. I will go see what the goddess is trying to communicate.”

His beta bowed deeply. “As you command, Alpha.”

He turned to Spenza, who hesitated.  “But the silver ring, Aldrin. We need to complete it,” she protested.

“Not now,” Aldrin replied coldly, dismissing her with a single glare.

Spenza and the beta left to find the guards, while Alpha Aldrin turned to the seer. “And you? You are coming with me.”

The seer nodded and followed as they stepped outside. The crowd was not left behind—dignitaries first, curiosity and fear pulling them forward.

Outside, the day had fallen into near darkness. Violent winds had destroyed several trees and structures across the pack grounds. The sky continued to cry out in relentless thunder.

And the moon? It glowed crimson, the color of fresh blood. Bright above, yet its light was swallowed midair, never touching the earth.

“This is not a good sign,” the seer whispered beside Alpha Aldrin.

The Alpha shifted but kept his gaze fixed on the sky, standing still as though trying to commune with a higher power. After a long moment, he lowered his eyes and scanned the damaged pack grounds—branches, leaves, and dust scattered everywhere.

Slowly, he turned to the seer, his eyes icy, his voice colder still.  “Are you trying to say the goddess is objecting to my coronation, wise man?”

The question carried crushing weight, laced with something else—

Something dangerous.