LOGINBack at Crestmoon Pack…
The meeting hall buzzed with frantic voices and stomping feet as Alpha Kadel stood at the head of the long oval table, surrounded by council elders and high-ranking officers. The early morning sun cut through the window slats, painting sharp lines across the polished floor—light that did nothing to ease the tension in the room.
War was hanging in the air.
Before anyone could make sense of the noise, Beta Stefan hurried into the hall. His face was pale, his steps urgent, and without waiting for permission, he leaned close to murmur something into Alpha Kadel’s ear.
The change was instant.
Alpha Kadel’s face reddened—first with shock, then fury, then something darker. His jaw clenched so tightly the bones in his temple twitched. Every elder leaned forward, desperate to hear what news had struck their Alpha silent.
Kadel slammed his palm onto the table and roared, voice echoing through the hall like a thunderclap:
“HOW DARE HE?! HOW DARE CARLO THREATEN ME WITH WAR!” The hall erupted.
“Carlo has lost his mind!”
“He dares challenge Crestmoon?!”
“That mutt should be put down!”
“We should march at once! Carlo cannot win!”
The shouting bounced off the high ceilings until a single, frail hand lifted into the air.
Elder Peng—the oldest living council member, the man who had served two Alphas before Kadel—rose to his feet. Instantly, the hall fell into respectful silence.
Even Alpha Kadel straightened.
“Alpha Kadel,” Elder Peng began, voice soft but sharp with age and wisdom, “you have led Crestmoon with strength and wisdom. You have every right to feel insulted… even to go to war.”
Several heads nodded, relief flickering across faces.
“But,” Peng continued, “war at this time will not favor Crestmoon.”
The murmuring resumed—quieter, thoughtful now.
He went on, hands folded behind him. “Our warriors are recovering from last winter’s losses. Our harvest this year was poor. And Carlo has been preparing for months. A confrontation now may destroy us.”
He sat slowly, his words hanging heavy in the air.
Alpha Kadel inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Thank you, Elder Peng. Then tell me—what solution do we choose?”
An elder to the right spoke first, clearing his throat. “We… we could pay the tributes Carlo demands. Triple them, as he asked. That will appease him.”
“No!” someone shouted. “We cannot afford that!”
“Our stores are already strained!”
“And once we agree, Carlo will demand again next moon!”
Chaos returned as everyone spoke over each other until Alpha Kadel lifted his hand.
Silence settled again. Then Beta Stefan stepped forward.
He bowed. “Alpha… if Carlo seeks to intimidate us, then perhaps we seek help from someone he fears.” The room stilled.
A council member frowned. “Who could that possibly be?”
Stefan hesitated for only a moment. “A tyrant respects only a greater tyrant. Carlo will retreat if he knows Crestmoon stands under the shadow of someone more powerful.”
Alpha Kadel narrowed his eyes. “Who are you suggesting?”
Stefan lifted his head and spoke the name like a warning:
“Draven BloodFall.” Gasps burst through the hall.
Some elders recoiled. One clutched his chest as if struck by lightning.
“That devil?!”
“Seeking help from Draven is suicide!”
“He is worse than Carlo!”
“He would destroy us all!”
“He eats threats for breakfast—we will be next!”
Gamma Murray who has being silent until now—stepped forward, expression grim. “I support Stefan.” He paused. “Draven BloodFall is the chief demon among wolves.... but he is the only one Carlo fears. And the only one capable of forcing Carlo into submission.” The hall fell into a deathly stillness.
After several slow seconds, Alpha Kadel spoke. “I agree.”
More gasps.
He continued, voice steady with decision. “We have no time, no other allies, and no other option. Crestmoon will seek Draven BloodFall’s protection. Stefan—prepare the official letter immediately. We will await the devil’s terms.”
Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.
They all knew one truth... Draven BloodFall never offered help freely. And the price he demanded was always… devastating.
---
When Alpha Kadel returned to his wife’s chamber…
Lady Lyria was standing before her tall silver-framed mirror, her maid Lila brushing her long dark hair into soft waves. She saw her husband’s reflection first—his stiff posture, the storm in his eyes—and her smile slowly faded.
The moment the door closed behind Lila, she gently took his hand and led him to the cushioned seat near the window. She slipped behind him and began massaging the tight knots at the base of his neck—her secret therapy, the one thing that always loosened the tension bottled inside him.
It worked.
After a long exhale, he finally spoke.
His voice was low… tired.
He told her everything—the outcome of the emergency meeting, Carlo’s threatening letter, the looming war. How Crestmoon had no army strong enough to withstand Silverfang’s if Carlo followed through. And how, in desperation, he needed to seek aid from someone far more powerful.
“So who,” she asked softly, fingers pausing, “could possibly help in such a short time?”
His jaw twitched.“Draven BloodFall.”
She froze. Her fingers pressed too deep into a nerve at his neck.
“Ahh—Lyria!” Kadel winced and twisted around, glaring. “What was that for?!”
Realizing her mistake, she gasped and bowed her head. “I—I’m sorry, my love. I panicked when you said that devil’s name.”
Her voice trembled. “Draven BloodFall is a walking devil. Calling for him is like inviting the underworld into Crestmoon! It’s dangerous, reckless—I don’t advise it.”
Kadel rubbed his neck, face still twisted in pain and frustration.
“I know. But I have no choice. Only Draven can make Carlo back down and leave us in peace. Besides, i can't keep paying for what the padt Alpha agreed to... We don't need his services anymore”
Lyria swallowed hard. “What does Draven want in return?”
Kadel shook his head. “He hasn’t responded. I sent the letter and now… we wait. He is our last hope to avoid a war we cannot win.”
She inhaled shakily, stopped massaging him, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind... though fear churned in her heart.
The change in Draven was subtle at first — so subtle that anyone else would have missed it.But Philipa didn’t.She had grown used to him the way one grows used to the moon — always there, quiet, constant, watching.So when that presence shifted even slightly, she felt it immediately.Throughout the evening drill, while Rowan complained dramatically about combat test approaching fast, and another student passing ridiculous notes across to anotheron the field, her attention kept drifting toward the front row where Draven usually stand behind Boorman.He was there. Same straight posture.Same unreadable face.Yet something felt… wrong.She could tell he wasn’t listening. Wasn’t even pretending to pay attention like he normally did.He simply stared throughthefield, eyes distant, jaw tight, as though his thoughts were somewhere far beyond the academy walls.Philipa caught his gaze once and offered him a small smile.He looked away, too quickly. Her smile faded.That had never happened bef
Back to the Academy…The sharp clang of the morning bell echoed across the academy grounds.Class dismissed.For half a second, there was silence—Then chaos. Chairs scraped loudly, boots stomped and voices exploded into laughter and rough teasing.“Move, idiot!”“You’re blocking the door!”“Breakfast first, training later! Last one there washes the dishes!”Boys poured out of the halls like floodwater.Shoving, yelling and throwing arms over each other’s shoulders.Some sprinted straight for the cafeteria like starving wolves. Typical men world of chaos, aways loud and always competitive.Philipa walked in the middle of the crowd with Rowan beside her.“…and then he slipped right into the mud face-first!” Rowan finished dramatically, waving both hands as he reenacted it.Philipa burst out laughing.“No way— you’re lying!”“I swear on my life! His nose disappeared inside the mud like—”He made a squelching sound.She laughed harder, clutching her stomach.“For Moon’s sake, Rowan— stop—
The hall nodded in agreement.“He already leads patrols, and the warriors trust him.”“He’s level-headed.”“He protected the pack even while accused.”Every sentence was a slap.Kaden’s breathing grew heavier.“You… want him?” he said slowly.“Yes,” Marrok replied. “For now.”“It’s tradition. Prove yourself first.”“Learn responsibility. Then we talk about coronation.”Kaden stared at Stefan like he’d just discovered a snake beside him.Stefan simply bowed slightly.“I have no desire for the throne. I only serve the pack.” He was calm and respectful.Which somehow made Kaden angrier.“You’re lying,” Kaden hissed.Silence. Then— “You’re all lying!” He slammed the table.BANG.“Don’t think I’m blind!” His finger pointed wildly at the elders. “You’ve been colluding with him from the start!”Gasps erupted.“You plan to steal power from the royal family!” Treason! Conspiracy! Maybe you poisoned my father together!”The hall erupted.“Watch your mouth, boy! How dare you!”“We served your g
Crestmoon Pack---Day of Alpha Kadel’s Burial...Gray clouds swallowed the sky.Not storm clouds. Just dull… heavy ones.The kind that pressed down on the chest and made breathing feel like work.Even the wind was quiet, as if the forest itself mourned.The royal burial grounds stood at the highest hill of Crestmoon — sacred land reserved only for the Alpha bloodline. Ancient stone pillars circled the site, carved with the names of every fallen Alpha before Kadel.Today, another name would be added.A long black coffin rested at the center.Inside lay Alpha Kadel. Still. Cold. And lifeless.At least… that was what everyone believed.Pack members dressed in dark robes filled the grounds. Warriors stood in silent rows. Servants bowed their heads. Even the neighboring Alphas who had come to “pay respects” wore solemn expressions.But grief wasn’t the only thing in the air.There was fear.Because when a strong Alpha dies suddenly, enemies smell weakness.And everyone knew it.Soft sobs ec
Back at BloodFall Pack, the clang of steel still echoed faintly through the courtyard.Devon rolled his shoulders as he stepped out of the training grounds, sweat clinging to his shirt. The elite unit Draven had ordered was shaping well—faster, deadlier, disciplined to the bone. Exactly how Draven liked his warriors.Phil followed behind him, cracking his neck. “If Draven doesn’t praise this team when he gets back, I’ll assume he’s finally gone blind.”Devon snorted softly but said nothing as he reached the study door and slid the key into the lock.Just as he turned it—“Beta Devon!”Saxon came running down the corridor, breath uneven, his usual composure fractured. The urgency in his stride alone made Devon’s hand freeze on the key.Devon turned sharply. “What happened?”Without a word, Saxon held out a sealed letter.Phil leaned in, squinting—then burst out laughing. “Crestmoon Pack?” he scoffed. “What now? Another complaint about finding the runaway princess or some ceremonial non
With the elders’ relentless insistence, Lyria was finally summoned back into the hall.The great doors creaked open, and she entered slowly, one hand pressed to her chest, her steps unsteady as though the weight of the room itself was crushing her fragile frame. Her face was pale, her lips slightly trembling—every inch the grieving, weakened Luna.Kaden rose at once.“Mother,” he said tightly, pulling out a chair beside him. “Sit. You’re unwell.”Before she could lower herself, an elder slammed his staff against the stone floor.“No,” Elder Hargun snapped. “She will stand.”Kaden’s head whipped around. “You dare—?”“You are not Alpha yet, boy,” another elder sneered. “And she is not above the law.”Lyria inhaled sharply, swaying on her feet. “It’s alright, my son,” she murmured softly. “If standing will ease their suspicions, then I shall stand.”Her meekness only fueled the elders’ fury.“Don’t play the wounded dove with us,” Elder Mora spat. “Your mate lies cold, poisoned under your







