The night was cold, and the air carried the faintest scent of something
unfamiliar—something wild. Vaelith stood at the edge of the grand balcony of House
Noctis, gazing out beyond the darkened forests that surrounded their land. The moon
hung high, illuminating the treetops with an eerie glow, and though all seemed calm, a
storm was brewing beneath the surface.
Tonight was different.A meeting had been called—one that had not happened in nearly a century. The
werewolves were coming.
The Gathering of Claws and Fangs
Inside the great hall of House Noctis, the air was thick with tension. The crimson banners
of Vaelith's family hung above, their sigil—a coiled serpent with fangs dripping
blood—casting shadows against the stone walls. The room was filled with high-ranking
vampires, each seated in an arc around the grand table, their faces unreadable but their
postures rigid.
Vaelith sat beside his father at the head of the table. Lord Aldric Noctis was a man of few
words, but his presence alone was enough to command absolute silence. His pale skin
and jet-black hair made him look almost statuesque in the dim torchlight. Beside him,
Lady Elysia sat poised, her golden eyes flickering with unreadable thoughts.
The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and they entered.
The werewolves.
They moved with an undeniable presence, their strides exuding both confidence and
restraint. Their forms were powerful—towering figures with broad shoulders, their
muscles coiled like a predator waiting to strike. Their golden eyes glowed faintly in the
torchlight, a stark contrast to the red irises of the vampires who watched them enter.
Leading them was Fenros Stormclaw, the Alpha of the pack. His presence alone was
enough to demand respect. He was taller than any man in the room, his dark brown hair
wild yet controlled, and the scars across his arms told of countless battles fought
beneath the moon.
Behind him, Kierna Blackfang, a Beta, walked with a quiet but deadly grace. She was
leaner than Fenros, but her movements were sharp, precise—like a blade waiting to be
unsheathed. Her expression was calm, but Vaelith noticed the way her eyes flickered
between the vampires, as if she were scanning for the first sign of treachery.
The werewolves had brought a few others, but Vaelith could tell by their postures that
they were not Alphas or Betas—perhaps Deltas, the enforcers of the pack. They held
themselves strong but did not speak unless given permission.
Fenros stopped before the table, locking eyes with Lord Aldric. The room was silent.
Then, the Alpha spoke.
Fenros: "It has been a long time, Lord Noctis.
"Lord Aldric did not bow, nor did he offer pleasantries. Instead, his lips curled ever so
slightly.
Lord Aldric: "Not long enough.
"
Vaelith felt the shift in the air. There was no friendliness here—only old grudges
simmering beneath the surface.
Fenros let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
Fenros: "And yet, here we are again. Because whether we like it or not, the night belongs
to both of us.
"
A Delicate Balance
The conversation that followed was tense, filled with unspoken threats and carefully
chosen words. The vampires and werewolves had always maintained a fragile balance.
Though they were not at war, their coexistence was uneasy.
The problem was simple: the werewolves had come for the pixie dust—a rare alchemical
substance that allowed them to control their transformations under the full moon.
Without it, they were nothing more than beasts—enslaved to their own nature.
And the vampires controlled the supply.
Lord Aldric: "You ask for dust. And what do we receive in return?"
Fenros' jaw tightened.
Fenros: "You know what we offer. The pact remains the same.
"
Vaelith knew what he meant. The werewolves had a role in this world—they kept the
humans in check. If the humans ever became too strong, too bold in their hunts against
the vampires, the werewolves were sent to remind them of their place. It was a silent
agreement, a necessary evil to maintain power over their shared prey.
But Vaelith could see that his father wanted more.
Lord Aldric: "Times have changed, Stormclaw. The humans are no longer our only
"
concern.
Fenros narrowed his eyes.
Fenros: "What are you implying?"Aldric leaned forward, his fingers steepled.
Lord Aldric: "I am saying that there are whispers of something else. Something stirring in
the world beyond the forests. You need this dust, and I need something from you in
return. A stronger alliance. One that does not break when it is inconvenient for you.
"
A flicker of something crossed Fenros' face—hesitation, perhaps. Or maybe just
calculation.
Fenros: "An alliance built on what? You would have us bow to you?"
Aldric smirked.
Lord Aldric: "No. But I would have you understand that without us, you are nothing more
than animals. And I doubt you want the humans to see you that way.
"
The room was still. Even Vaelith felt the weight of his father's words.
Fenros clenched his fists. The Alpha's pride warred with his duty to his pack.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.
Fenros: "We will consider your terms. But do not mistake necessity for weakness, Lord
Noctis.
"
With that, the meeting was over.
Vaelith's Thoughts
As the werewolves left, Vaelith couldn't shake the feeling that something was shifting.
His father was playing a dangerous game—pushing the werewolves further, testing the
limits of their uneasy alliance. And Vaelith could tell that Fenros had barely restrained his
rage.
Darian, who had been silent the entire meeting, leaned closer to him as the last of the
werewolves exited the hall.
Darian: "I don't like this. We're pulling on a leash that might just snap.
"
Vaelith exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening against the wooden armrest of his chair.
Vaelith: "I know. And when it does… we'll have to be ready.
"For the first time, Vaelith felt the weight of something much larger than himself pressing
down on him.
His father was planning something.
The werewolves were growing restless.
And somewhere, beneath the surface of it all, a war was waiting to begin.