Malika (#Short, Incomplete)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

The air is brittle, emanating harsh strikes of icy cold as it wafts close to the ground, meandering between the tall structures and the warm-blooded bodies present, sticking to their skin and attempting to cause as much chaos as possible. The winds that accompany it are rough, creating a wave of tremor, unleashing a blizzard of never-ending rage as it pummels through the day in pure corruption.

Thick, white clouds hold the sky hostage, the sun trapped behind, sobbing in horror as her creations below die without her warmth. The leaves of trees had fallen to their doom, decaying to nothing, branches becoming flaccid and grey in colour. Grass which once stood tall and vibrant, now curled low, belittled to nothing without their strength, roped down by thick shards of sleet that fell from the sky.

Flowers which once bloomed and painted the landscapes with joy and colour left long ago, obliterating to nothing.

Only shades of grey exist in winter, and nothing else.

The world is quiet, except for the screeching of the wind.

Birds that once flew overheard in harmony now hide away in nests that barely protect them. The small squirrels that used to run across thin branches, scouting for small remnants of food, nuts and berries are nowhere to be seen, having either starved to death or gave into the cold. Foxes have retreated to their den, nursing the cubs they hope to keep alive through these cold days. Badges and hares have long gone underground.

Winter dominates everything.

The change in season didn't only affect the local ecosystem, with it's rancid effect instead expanding over to the others that shared the same vicinity, the other beings that were introduced long ago by their ancestors, eventually evolving into the Kingdom of the North.

The werewolves weren't a fan of the cold either, and were the only one of the six Kingdoms, that stood on the Upper Realm, having to deal with such aggressive conditions - primarily due to their geographical location.

Regardless, they still went about their day as normal. The sun had been up for a few hours now, just passing the highest position it's able to take.

The Wolf Kingdom wasn't a Kingdom that was that lavish, especially considering they probably harboured the most distance between the others, pushed far out in a more isolated region.

That's not to say they didn't have good connections with the others though, because they allied all other Kingdoms in the Upper Realm, and a few in the Lower Realm.

In fact they had established such good relationships with the others, that it was not only wolves that roamed this very day, but other species like a few humans, or witches. They had given liberty to those that weren't their own, but wanted to live a peaceful life - granted it was authorised by their monarch and that they abide by the rules here.

For the most part they weren't especially grand in how they lived, but they certainly had aspects that were very traditional, such as the palace in the very north of their Kingdom, a magnificent architectural feat, having been built eons ago.

Other than that, many normal members chose to build their own homes from the dark oak that resided in the region, building sturdy structures that were very homey. There was the occasional packhouse that remained for those lone wolves, as well as small market spaces set up, with other facilities.

There were different roles delegated to different groups of individuals depending on their set of skills, whether it would be for farming, healthcare or for purposes of protecting the Kingdom. Some travelled the world for exploration, some travelled for business purposes on behalf of the wolves, with some residing in other regions entirely.

They had established a tight-knitted community, of both the wolves and others who lived here. Their numbers were increasing by the day.

Some wolves now scurry about, fixing up stalls in the market. Some have already begun their afternoon selling, yelling at the top of their lungs about how their produce was the best. Others simply roamed around, wearing thick coats made of furs and stout boots. Pups accompanied them, wearing wool over their delicate hands and heads, ducking down and scooping up what little snow had fallen the night prior. Much more was said to fall tonight.

Squeals of delight fall upon them as they play together, carefully supervised by their mothers that joined them, huddling close with the other females.

Its a calm day for what it's worth, the cold being their only concern.

For the most part, every wolf was happy with flushed and pink tinged features, laughing and talking with one another.

Most discussions revolved around the King and the fact that he didn't have a mate yet, some wondering who the lucky wolf would be. Others talked about the upcoming pack barbecue they were holding tonight in one of the clearings, talking about what dish they'd be contributing. Some took a dark turn in conversation, talking about events in the past month that had been a growing worry. Their pups are looked over once again, relief evident when their safety is reassured.

The wind howls a little louder the next moment, dark and eerie, leaving just as it came.

A deafening silence falls over everyone for a moment, an uneasiness arising in the wolves, their inner animals sensing something they could not yet. A few gasps are heard, children snatched close to their mothers.

The stench of blood wades in the air, fast footsteps thundering in panic.

A tall male slides out of the nearest woods, not even a mere mile from this particular market. His torso is bare, wearing blood that isn't his, with ripped and muddied shorts. His movements are fast, eyes stern and features determined. Many recognised this as the beta, but their hearts raced quicker once realising he holds a wolf shifted in fur in his arms, the figure clawed and gnashed, barely breathing.

Commotion arises quickly, many running forward to help. A doctor is already at the scene, the wolf from the beta's arms placed carefully onto the nearest ground. The wolf is too weak to shift to skin, but they try everything they could, shirts being offered to tie the wounds, to increase the pressure and stop the blood flow. It's hectic, with the chaos that the winds foreshadowed erupting before their very eyes.

All attempts are futile.

It only takes a minute for the pulse of the wolf to stop altogether. More figures arrive in the scene, including the warrior general and some medics.

The beta is quickly pulled aside by the general, a quick and quiet conversation being shared between them. Another wolf lost to a cause they didn't know about. This had been the third one in just this month, and the seventh one in this year. It's something they don't want to emasculate upon the pack, not wanting to heighten fears just yet.

But uneasiness grows as the death toll to an unknown threat increases. Wolves were being slaughtered, bodies left in the darkest depths of the woods to be found.

The beta is distraught. This one was different. The wolf was alive when the beta found him. If only he'd been faster, if he had done something sooner perhaps it didn't have to be this way. He paces as the guilt seizes him, disregarding words from the general saying otherwise. The guilt is felt like a stake in the heart when a scream erupts through the air, loud and mournful.

The wail of a mother who had lost her very own.

Eyes brim with tears from all.

The funeral commences that very night.

All the pack attends, draped in cloaks and furs of black, huddling close together not only for warmth, but for support in such hard times. This had been the third funeral they'd attended this month from the spontaneous attacks, and it was dwelling over them. They didn't want to be accustomed to this, didn't want to have to show their pups that their home wasn't safe. The first few deaths were deemed as accidents, as coincidences. No one could convince themselves of this now. It was something else.

It's a doleful service, honouring the young juvenile who had lost his life too soon, with members of his blood coming up to speak in turn through fresh tears, shocked in grief and loss. Flowers are left for him, candles are held in his honour, with quiet reflection for this young wolf.

He burns in a shroud the colour of the moon, lit by his own mother. The pack prays he's granted a safe passage to the Moon Goddess and that she returns him to the earth as he was created, his soul finally being able to live eternity in peace.

The King and his principles stand in the shadows quietly upon such a dim occasion, bearing heavy hearts from losing one of their own, after having paid their respects to the family. They'd keep checking in on those members through the next month.

The King's eyes fall onto the estranged beta on the opposite end, leaning against a tree with his arms folded over his chest. His expression is tense and hard, with tears leaking down emerald hues. He'd failed one of his wolves. His mind was haunted by so many different manners in which it could've ended differently, all this pain prevented.

"Ezekiel," the King's voice is deep, low.

The male straightens, eyes not reaching up to the arrival. The King says nothing, instead pulling his dear beta into his hold. They both shared two decades of friendship, now embarking onto their new different roles in this pack.

"It is not your fault. What is done, is done. We can only pray the Moon has mercy on him. You can grieve, but you cannot forever fault yourself. The past in untouchable, the present is malleable but the future is ours to control alone," the King's words are wise. The beta says nothing.

"And control it we will. Starting tomorrow. We're interrogating every last wolf in here before we start branching knowledge of these attacks out to the other Kingdoms. This is no coincidence, and after years of peace between the Upper Realm, something was bound to happen," it's a lower mutter, before forcing the beta to look at him.

"Get some sleep. You did well," and the beta is left alone with that.

His gaze turns back to the pack, passing over the wolves huddling with one another, sharing wine and bowls of soup. His eyes are stuck onto the flames from the shroud being burned, the smoke erupting higher and higher, heading for the Moon.

He hoped it would be different after tonight, that no more lives would be lost to this. The wolf within him bristles, sensing otherwise.

Snow begins to fall from the sky.

A/N - i also really want to do a beta book.