Some centuries ago

Becoming a young twenty year old man, Fenrir had learned the truth the harsh way. He was confident when he was little that he would become a great werewolf, his father had made him think so.

But the cruel reality had become more evident as time passed.

Living with his father who had no way of fending for himself, life became more and more difficult to bare. Without the backup of the royal family, and by not being around his kind, the werewolf was changing to worse with each passing day.

He also no longer had his mother's love and support, as the latter had left them long ago.

The night his father returned, announcing to them that they could not move to the royal palace, had enraged his mother completely. As a small child he thought their simple life was happy, the only problem being that he had expected to become a full werewolf, but apparently for his mother it had not been her dream life.

She cursed his father in anger, telling him that it was not what he had promised her, not the life that she should have. The meager insufficient lifestyle had only been the means to convince his father of their difficulties, making him finally take them to the royal palace. But with his father being exiled, any hopes she had at that time died.

Giving up on his father and him, his mother had left them in the dead of night. The only reminiscence of her presence, remaining the clothes and small things she could not take with her, and Fenrir himself... she had abandoned him.

This crushed Fenrir and changed his life completely, his father was not capable of taking care of himself, much less of a pup. It made him mature overnight, as he had to give up on all of the things that made him a child.

But if there was one thing that he had not let go of throughout the years, even though he knew it would be impossible, it was the hope of becoming a real werewolf. A hope his father no longer held, even in his madness.

"Father!!!" He called desperately, after one of his outings to the village's market.

"Yes." Replied hoarsely his father, getting up from bed. The former young prince full of life looked nothing like his old self. Only a shell that resembled his older brother, the king of the werewolves, vaguely remained, although he looked much older than he normally should have, considering his werewolf nature.

"I found it, I found a way for us to return to the royal palace." He exclaimed happily, bursting through the door of his father's room.

"How?" The man asked without any expression, he knew his son had kept asking around and had thought of different ways over the years, but he knew there was no way to transform a human into a werewolf, a person who did not have at least the aura capable of changing the color of the rose to any color.

"They were saying in the village... I heard a group of hunters speaking. They were talking about how some werewolves had bitten some of them, trying to transform them into werewolves, to make the humans stop hunting them. Can't we try that? If I knew it was that easy, we wouldn't have suffered so much!" Fenrir hopefully informed, all this time the answer had been so simple, it was just they had been oblivious to it.

"No." His father denied, standing up from bed and reaching for a bottle of whiskey. It had been the only liquid that entered the unshaved ruffled man's throat these days.

"Why? We could go back! Do you not want me to become a werewolf? Do you want me to rot away like you?" Fenrir spat spiteful, losing his temper towards the father for whom he had long lost any respect.

"You cannot. The werewolves who tried that are fools. The thing the hunters were most likely talking about is transforming a human into a lycan, but a lycan is a senseless creature, they listen to no logic, no norms can bind them. The only authority they could recognize would be the master that created them, but even that lycan would have lost his mind, so in the end, they wouldn't listen to anyone. Mad savage creatures, without a shred of human morality, who would want to become something like that?"

His father raised his voice, disapproving him. For better or worse, he had given up his beautiful mate, his royal family for them, and now even his son dared to talk to him this way, when no other werewolf would have dared to even look him in the eyes, if it was in the past.

"Not to mention, it is virtually impossible to turn a human into a lycan. There is a high chance you would die. Forget it, you are a human, you will only ever be a human!" His father's voice raising even higher, until it had become a shout. His young foolish son could not tell, but he knew. The failure of such an experiment would mean death.

This was his son, even though he was only a human, the blood that coursed through his veins were his, nonetheless. Not to mention, in the small small chance that a werewolf would manage to turn a human into a lycan... the werewolf who would succeed, he or she would meet their end.

"But I am a hybrid. It would be easier for me to become a lycan considering this, and I could still keep my sane mind because of this fact also. If you will not, I would prefer dying, rather than keep living like this, from day to day! You are my father, you are the cause of everything, all of this is your fault, all of it!"

The angered voice, the spiteful words, the regrets, and the fear of being left alone... all of it played with the werewolf's mind. He tried some more to convince his son of the consequences, he did not want to be the one to kill his own flesh and blood. But in the end, Fenrir really did not give him a choice.

The man had not taken into account that he had instilled in his son for such a long time the faith that he would become a werewolf, as such Fenrir did not want to think or even could, of another way to live his life.

Seeing the young Fenrir hurt and unconscious, and being afraid of losing the only family he had left... his father broke one of the Goddess's taboos. He was not sure it would work, but as a father he hoped his son would keep on living, even if it meant his death.

Moments passed, as the father held his bitten son to his chest... he hugged him as tears flooded from his eyes, before a small smile appeared on the werewolf's face.

After what felt like a lifetime, Fenrir's pale face began to change to a healthier color, this coupled with the fact that the werewolf was beginning to sense as though his life was leaving his body, meant that the transformation had been successful.

Fenrir opened his eyes feeling everything more vibrantly than before, somehow he felt that the change was real. The trick that he had played on his father had worked.

He smiled brightly getting up, feeling the strength and power that was beginning to course through his veins.

"Father! Father!" He exclaimed happily, shaking his father's arm, seeing that the werewolf had kept his seating position near him, but did not react.

He would have never thought that as soon as his hand tried to get his father's attention, there would be no reaction. The werewolf's body fell due to Fenrir's touch, as his body slowly turned to dust before scattering in the wind.

He had succeeded, he had become the world's first rational lycan, the strongest of all... at the cost of his own father's life.

The present time

The sun had set for a couple of hours already, and without it, the frozen atmosphere became even colder and lifeless. There were no humans, no animals, no living beings as far as you could see. The only small presence of life, if you could call it that, were the trees that were burdened by piles of snow, with branches that felt like they would fall any moment now at the smallest of zephyrs, under their own weight. But still the piles of snow did not fall as even the wind was no longer blowing, as it had also been frozen in time.

This had been the inert state of nature for some time now, and it felt like it would continue to be so for a while longer but, unexpectedly, even without the lightest of breeze, very slowly small snowflakes started to fall one by one, from the said trees.

There were only two, three snowflakes falling at a time from each tree, then there were four, five, the number of snowflakes that fell kept on increasing, until you could no longer count them, as though it had started to snow again. It was truly strange because there was still not even a small breeze blowing to move them and make them fall.

One could not do anything but wonder why the snow fell, but you would not have to ponder too long, as the lifeless forest soon came to life.

Coming closer and closer, with the earth rumbling under their paws, thousands of werewolves moved as one giant pack, one massive coordinated group following the biggest alpha there was.

The midnight black wolf knew of no tiredness, knew of no pain, as it kept howling stirring them in the direction of where his loved one would be.

Following behind him, other alpha ranked werewolves struggled to maintain his pace.

If you would see them in the distance, you would say they were quite slow compared to their king, but normal ranked werewolves would tell you... never in their life would they have seen such a fast and strong army moving steadily through the forest.

The werewolves were riled up in anger, they had been informed of who they were rescuing. To dare capture the Luna of all packs, such courage must be ripped to pieces, they would ensure they left none living in the aftermath.

The pressure emitted by their bodies, their raging howls through the night, as they ran between the trees, even ripping some of them apart in their will to follow the shortest distance possible, were terrifying.

But the scariest of all, would still be Sky. Being the one in control at the moment, he was the most savage of them all.

Celia was suppressing all of her aura, which meant he could not feel even the slightest connection with her, he could not feel Waning at all. She was no different than a human, at this moment, as powerless as one. The severed connection making him feel like he was at the edge of an abyss.

At Fenrir's place

"The royal family does not have other descendants..." than Salas, Celia tried to speak. The children had been taught since young that the king's family line, for the longest of time, had consisted of only one male that passed the throne to another male.

"Well, I am sure that is what every werewolf thinks, who would know of the skeletons in the royal family's closet. But that's enough from me, I did not invite you all the way here just to talk about me." Fenrir said, than slowly approached Celia again.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Celia felt uncomfortable at his close distance to her, and moved back again. She felt intimidated at his eyes that seemed to try to analyze her face and thoughts.

"Did you know, little alpha? The king's position is hereditary, so in a sense he is not chosen by the Goddess, only the queen is. It makes you wonder if I were to become the king.... with you as my queen, well it wouldn't go against her wishes... now would it?"

"What??" She expressed horrified, at the thought of herself by the side of anyone else other than Salas. Where did this person come from? And why would he be so confident that he could take Salas's place? Not to mention, she would never accept another man, even if she could be killed for refusing.

"I am just saying, the rigid laws the royal family has imposed for such a long time, with rules of only mating a specific werewolf forced at birth, and being a pure blooded werewolf, they are such outdated thinking. I could be a fresh start, more so than the man already indoctrinated by their strictness."

He had dreamed once of being part of the royal family, but he had given up with the death of his father, shifting all of his blame and anger that had accumulated over the years onto them.

Wandering for a long time, gathering strays from all over the place. He had gained a new purpose, a new reason to be alive, in a world that had rejected his existence for all of his life.

If in the current world he lived in, his existence was akin to only an anomaly, then he would transform this world in one in which the normal would be the anomaly, and his existence a logical one.

"Being with your rightful mate, is the only way for a soul to be complete, this is not wrong. And, Salas is not only a king because of his lineage, he is one because of his power, the first ranked amongst us.

He is the strongest of all the werewolves, he is the one binding us all together. No matter what you are trying to do, stop it. You would never succeed in your purpose!" Celia said, trying to maintain her calm, and her slight tremble from being revealed. If he was Salas's cousin what had poisoned his heart, turning it so black, why wouldn't he want to get along with Salas?

"Now, this is where you are wrong. Even the strongest of men is only as strong as his weakest point, and you are that weak point. You made the king of the werewolves, the weakest of them all." He said looking intently at her, he could see why the werewolf king would be smitten with her, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but strangely there seemed to be more to her than met the eye, something that drew him to her, like a moth to a flame.

In the short time, he had been in her presence, he was beginning to feel that if Celia had asked him to give up everything he was trying to do a bit more stronger, his heart would waver in doing her bidding.

Why, just why did only Salas have a mate? Why did the Goddess had to be so partial to werewolves? He had left him alone all this time, glad that Salas was like him, also an anomaly, one without a mate... but he was not. It only made him hate him more, it only made him want to kill more.

"If you are thinking of having me as a trading tool, or a weapon against Salas, I would fight you until I die. Do not think the mate of the king would just let you do as you pleased!" She desperately threatened, for some reason she was afraid that Salas would give his life without the smallest of struggle, if this man asked him for it. She could not be his weakness, she did not want to be the cause of his death.

"I am sure you would struggle, but your struggle would not mean much in your current condition. I do not know exactly what your problem is at this moment, but for someone who defeated dozens of hunters on her own, for one who is an alpha, to not even emit the smallest of auras. Surely there is something that binds you, something that forces you to be only a human at this moment. Or what... did you think I don't feel your weakness right now?"

Hearing him speak, she really felt like she was in a deadlock. On one side, under no circumstances, could she release her pressure, as it could mean Crescent's death, on the other side she could be used to bring down her loved one... There were only two choices, but no matter which one she chose, someone would die.

"My king!" Lucian spoke, bursting through the door.

He did not need to inform him further, his presence alone, Fenrir knew what it meant. That man was coming to rescue Celia.

At the witches' coven

"Hmmm..." Murmured Carissa, setting the potions she had in her hands on the table, she had suddenly felt very nervous. She had a bad feeling all day, but this feeling became more and more acute as night came, until she could not even focus on her research now.

"What is it?" Asked Ebony, raising her head that had been resting on her paws.

"It is tonight. It has already begun!" She said, looking horrified. She had figured out the reason for her anxiety.

"Are you certain?" The cat asked again, raising on her feet, as she gained an expression similar to Clarissa's. The witch had not told her what would begin, but for her to have that appearance it could only mean one reason.

"Yes. No doubt about it, the night of prophecy, the night when everything would begin anew or everything will fall... is tonight!" Clarissa said trembling, they had not made it in time.

"How much of the stone would have turned blue by now? Would there be enough time?" Ebony desperately voiced. Without her powers, what could Celia do?

"I do not know if even a quarter of the ring has changed by now. I thought we would have a bit more time, I thought we could get Crescent out, before it would be too late. What set things in motion earlier than they should have?"

"Couldn't we do something about it, couldn't we help?"

Resigned, Clarissa shook her head, there was nothing they could do once the wheels of fate had begun moving.

They had already done their part, the will of the Goddess had only been for Clarissa to inform Celia's sister of her fate, assuring the latter would interfere and Celia would not be forced to be with a wrong mate... to assure that she would come to the Academy and meet the rightful one, and for Clarissa to find a way to help the wolf that had been innocently mixed up in Celia's fate, to help Crescent. That was why she had told Diane all those years ago that Brianna had a Luna fate.

For a hundred years Celia's birth had been delayed to right the things that were going worse with each passing day.

A hundred years Celia's wolf had been prepared, had been reshaped, had been strengthened... a hundred years to prepare for the most powerful queen the werewolves could have.

But as Waning and Celia had already shown in the past, for this queen to be so perfect she would also have one quality that could be used as a weapon against herself, they would always put everyone's wellbeing above their own, they would always sacrifice for their loved ones, even their very life.

But for a ruler chosen by the Goddess to do so, what would it mean for the werewolf race, for the ones who would not be able to ensure her survival?

Note

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