The dead of night covered both packs in eerie silence. No howls echoed. No voices whispered. Only the rustling of leaves and the cold night breeze moved through the land.
Yet, hidden in the shadows, danger lurked.
Four rogue wolves slithered through the darkness, their steps silent as death itself. They split into two—half toward Lunarion, half toward Moonveil—moving like ghosts, unseen, unheard.
They had come for one reason.
The rogues in Moonveil crept through the winding paths of the pack's territory, slipping past weakened sentinels and injured warriors who were barely standing guard. Their eyes gleamed as they reached their target—the pack house.
And inside, they saw her.
Liora.
Motionless on her bed, her breath so shallow it was almost undetectable. Her skin pale, her presence weak.
She looked as good as dead.
The rogues exchanged a glance, a wicked smirk passing between them.
‐‐‐‐‐‐-
Meanwhile, in Lunarion, the other half of their group stalked through the dens, their paws making no sound on the earth.
And then, there she was.
Zyra, their greatest enemy. Their greatest threat.
Now reduced to nothing but an unconscious figure on a bed, her once-mighty presence drained of all power.
Her warriors stood outside, oblivious to the danger within. Kael sat close by, his face a mask of restrained fury and despair. He had no idea what lurked just outside, what watched from the darkness.
The rogues' lips curled into sneers.
Perfect.
With their mission complete, they slithered back into the night, moving as quickly as they had come.
Their leaders would be pleased.
The alpha and omega of both packs—Lunarion and Moonveil—were as good as dead.
And now, it is time to strike and they will start from the weakest... Moonveil.
‐‐‐‐‐‐‐
Morning came, but the weight of the night's sorrow still lingered.
Sera sat by Liora's bedside, her eyes hollow, her body stiff from staying in the same position for hours. She hadn't moved, hadn't spoken much—only sat there, watching, waiting.
Liora remained motionless.
Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow. The only sign of life was the faint rise and fall of her chest, but even that was barely noticeable.
Tears slipped silently down Sera's face. She didn't wipe them away. She let them fall, let them soak into her trembling hands.
She had failed her.
She had failed her Omega.
A choked sob clawed its way up Sera's throat, but she swallowed it back. Liora wouldn't want her to be weak. But how could she be strong when the one person she had sworn to protect was slipping away?
Anger surged through her veins.
Anger at the rogues.
Anger at fate.
Anger at herself.
But more than anything, angry at Zyra for wedging that attack on them which led to all these.
If she hadn't done that ,Liora wouldn't have craved so much to reject the Alpha …
She didn't leave Liora's side. Not for food. Not for rest. She just sat there, watching over her, hoping for any sign of movement.
But nothing.
The sun climbed high, then began to descend.
Evening came.
Still no change.
Sera's heart sank deeper. The longer Liora remained like this, the slimmer the chances of her waking up.
And for the first time since she had known her…
Sera feared that Liora might never open her eyes again.
‐‐‐‐‐‐‐
Kael sat by Zyra's bedside, his fingers curled into tight fists. His Alpha lay motionless, her breathing shallow, her usually strong presence reduced to nothing but a fragile shell.
He had been waiting for hours, hoping—praying—that she would wake up. But nothing changed.
Zyra, the fiercest warrior of Lunarion, was trapped within all because of a lowlife pack.
Kael hated it.
The pack needed her. He needed her.
But she remained silent.
—---
Across the pack, the Lunarion Elders gathered in the meeting hall, their faces grim, their voices low. A heavy air of uncertainty hung between them as they discussed what had befallen their Alpha.
"She still hasn't woken?" one of them asked, his deep voice laced with concern.
Kael, standing near the entrance, shook his head. "No change."
The room grew heavier.
"This is unnatural," another muttered, sharp eyes narrowing. "The healer said it's the mate bond. They are still tied together."
The Alpha, our protector, is barely clinging to life, all because of That cursed moonveil Omega" one retorted
Kael's jaw clenched.
"This is the price of their connection," one of them said gravely. "The healer was clear—if one dies, the other follows. The bond cannot be broken unless both perish."
Silence …. No one spoke .
The weight of the words already said settled over them.
Zyra was their Alpha, their leader. The pack's strength was tied to hers. They couldn't afford to lose her.
Another exhaled sharply. "Then we have no choice. We must find a way to break this link before it takes Zyra with it."
"But how?" a voice questioned. "If not through death, then what?"
The room fell silent again. No one had an answer.
"The witches."
Heads turned in the direction of the voice.
Serena walked in uninvited, her devious eye glued to the elders.
" If there is anyone who can sever a mate bond without killing them both, it is the witches."
There was a pause before Celestine asked "You mean the Coven of Wivelis?"
Serena slowly nods. "They are the only ones with knowledge deep enough to interfere with the ways of the Moon Goddess."
Kael straightened, his heart pounding. He had heard of the witches—powerful, dangerous, betrayers and unpredictable. Their ancestors had battled with them in the past for their brewing treachery on werewolves and banned anything which connects them or their sorcery.
"But dealing with witches has a cost," someone warned. "A price must always be paid. And our ancestors banned sorcery"
"We do not have a choice," Serena said, framing a shaky voice and letting a few tears fill her eye, then dropping her chin , as she wiped it and sniffed . "If Zyra dies, Lunarion falls. We must summon them , beg them and plead with them to help us irrespective of the past."
A heavy silence followed.
Serena smirked as she saw they were considering it.
Then, one by one, the elders nodded.
It was decided.
The witches would be summoned.