❝ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇᴡᴏʟꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏᴍᴇɢᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ?❞
For generations, the Blood Moon Pack and Grave Shadow Pack have been at war, the werewolves from each side bearing high tensions and malicious in...
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The infirmary is similar to Jax's room.
Gloomy drapes crowd around flat cots, touching the tiled floors with their heavy weight. Metal trays and mobile desks, topped with black wheels and shiny handles, glint under the pale blue hues of surrounding lamps. Burnt touches of incense, from a recent prayer done by the priest of Luna here, surface in the stale and frigid atmosphere. With winter still ongoing, everyone is bound to be breathing in this sort of dry air for a while now.
"Alpha Jax," Lee, an omega and the priest of Luna within Grave Shadow, greets. He tucks his hands behind his back and bows his head of pale pink hair down, his gaze flickering away from the alpha's face as a sign of respect. "Good evening. Are we– are we ready for your usual procedure?"
There is a tremble in his query, a wobble to the lilt in his soft-spoken voice. Because even though Lee has assisted Jax in his daily procedures for a while now, he still hesitates in doing so.
Frankly, Lee is a coward. Most omegas tend to be, as is their nature. But it's not bad to be weak and scared. When one is weak and scared, they tend to find creative ways to counteract the obstacles that come with life.
For example, though Lee is far from being a fighter on the front lines, he is an essential asset to their community for a variety of other reasons—the main one being healing.
But Jax is not here to be cured of something.
No, he's here to be stronger. Better. Almost every single night, for the past ten years now, he's always been here. Right by a priest of Luna's side.
Glancing over, he watches the omega ready the preparations for what's to come.
"Wh-what would you prefer today, sir?" Lee asks, his hands scrambling to fetch the necessary tools onto a metal tray. "The hand or the shot?"
"Both."
"Ah." The fear-stricken look on Lee's dainty face shows that he wants to scream, but can't even muster the courage to do so. "O-okay, sir. Let me just..."
Jax knows what Lee wants to say, but he knows he won't say it to his face. He knows that by the end of the night, the priest will pull through and do as he says.
"Uh, sir... Hand first, please."
Lee knows that Jax prefers to do it himself, so he already has his gloves fastened on as he hands the alpha the handle of a silver sickle. The curved blade gleams underneath the blue hues of the lamps around them, reflecting off a fragment of Jax's stoic face.
Silver.
A werewolf's poison.
Grave Shadow is the only pack in existence, throughout the entire world, known for weaponizing the one thing that can kill them. For everyone knows that the easiest way to stop a werewolf's heart from beating is through silver. As long as silver even so much as grazes any of a werewolf's vitals, and as long as a priest of Luna cannot be there to help with their inherent healing abilities, it gets the job done.
