❝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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Shit.
Chills scatter across Cyrus's arms as his blood runs cold.
"By the power invested in me, Slay Saber stands as their own. They are their own pack, their own territory, their own culture. All ties dictated by Blood Moon are nullified."
And it doesn't stop there.
Luna continues down the row, greeting Karja next. The moment Karja hears the moon goddess grant her the exact same freedom as Hunter, she jumps out to hug her, screaming and squealing like it's her fucking birthday. And considering the events of today, it might as well be.
Feeling his entire world slip away from his fingertips, Cyrus watches as he loses both of his trophy colonies, Slay Saber and Hellhounds, in less than two minutes. After years of ensuring his hold over them through the gruesome dealings of The Trials, all of that work is poofed. Gone, just like that.
"On my word, I hereby declare that Lumare no longer serves Grave Shadow."
Shit. With every blink, his vision flickers and dims.
Cyrus is glad that Jax no longer has control of Lumare and Frosthide. Just getting to savor that offended look on his face is priceless. However, this also means that it's every pack for themselves. Now he has to worry about all these other extras making a comeback and getting in the way, not just Grave Shadow.
Is this what Luna means by change? Is she really that set against bringing him down?
"If anyone has any objections to my new ruling, speak now or forever hold your peace," Luna declares. "But be warned, anyone that would like to object will have to face me. And I do not prefer to demonstrate my skills in a place of festivities and dance."
With a crazed smile, Cyrus is tempted to throw himself at Luna and demand that she revert everything back to normal. He wants to tear out her throat and feel the pulp of her flesh in between his claws, the visual of that delicious what if burning in the back of his mind. There would be no hex, no letting go of Slay Saber and Hellhounds.
But the pentagram circle that's engraved in his hand says otherwise. As much as it hurts to admit, he is not strong enough to resist the power of the moon goddess. To defy God herself is to ask for a death wish.
Jax must have reached a similar conclusion. Though the murderous intent in his eyes are clear, there's a tick to his jawline as he clenches his fists and settles for a shameful silence.
Once a few more moments of unspoken consensus arise, that's when Luna brings her hands together in a clap. The sound of her clap bounces off the chandeliers and drapes from above.
"Exactly one year from now, I will return with another ball," she says. "But in the meanwhile, I will not be watching over everyone like I always do. It's safe to say that after two centuries of constant diligence, I deserve a much needed respite."
