As the sun slowly descended beyond the horizon, casting its vibrant hues across the sky, it brought with it a gentle breeze that slowly traveled through the cracks and crevices of the mountains, rustling trees and fallen leaves before sweeping down into the valley.
Nestled within these majestic mountains was a manor that stood tall and proud with the dense forest that surrounded it cleverly concealing it away from prying eyes.
Inside the study room of the manor, a young man snapped the old, yellowed-paged book in his hands shut and tossed it on the desk in front of him with considerable force.
Looking closely into his dark eyes, deep, shuddering coldness swirled within them as he stared at the words written in bold fonts on the cover of the book—THE UNOFFICIAL HISTORY OF THAT ERA.
He sneered.
Unofficial history? Heh. Who were they kidding?
But who made reality to turn out like a famous quote commonly used among humans: history is written by the victors.
And ridiculous as it sounded—humans— being the ultimate victors of what they later called 'the cleansing war' got the right to decide what to write and call 'history.'
On one hand, they portrayed the supernatural races as tyrants—bloodthirsty and cruel—while painting themselves as brave souls who, despite suffering years of 'persecution,' still retained their 'resilient' hearts.
And, just like in every fairy-tale, they even managed to wipe out their oppressors.
How inspiring. How noble.
At this point, the man rose from his seat and walked over to the window to gaze at the solitary half-moon standing amidst the sea of shimmering stars. It was the only way he could manage to calm down the manic anger that threatened to overwhelm his rationality every single time he read about this purported 'history.'
As a descendant of the alpha king who had ruled over the werewolves' domain millenniums ago, he was one of the few left in this world, who knew the real truth about what truly happened in the past.
According to the records in the library, when the Alpha King—his ancestor—realized the extent of the precarious situation they were facing, he and the other elder werewolves carved out an escape route for his young son and a few werewolf cubs amidst the chaos.
The young son—Alexander's great-great-great grandfather— was unwilling to leave at first. But the Alpha King had supposedly looked at him, his gaze heavy and solemn, "This is my last order to you as your king and father—survive and protect the clan from going extinct."
"As for taking revenge in the future, I can't and won't dissuade you from it. But remember this—bide your time and don't make a move until you are hundred percent sure and prepared."
How many werewolves had died that day to protect and allow them to escape successfully? Alexander had no idea. All he knew was that whenever his grandfather told him the story when he was still a child, there were always some unshed tears in his eyes.
A man, no, an alpha never sheds tears, only blood.
His grandfather liked to say.
What then could be the reason behind the same man's unshed tears? Alexander had always been curious.
But after reading those records for the first time, he understood—an Alpha would only cry on two occasions.
When he loses his mate or... felt bone-deep anguish.
In his grandfather's case, it was the latter.
In the middle of his increasingly heavy thoughts, Alexander suddenly felt the ground underneath his feet shake violently.
A bit startled, he immediately looked down, wondering if there was an earthquake. He also looked outside the window to confirm that thought.
However, what came into sight was calmness.
Nothing seemed out of place.
But if it wasn't an earthquake, what then could be causing such a commotion?
The moment he had this thought, a guess suddenly occurred to him making his face change drastically.
Was she finally waking up?
The more he thought about it, the more likely he found his guess to be.
Unable to stand still any longer, he immediately rushed towards the door, planning to confirm his guess in person.
He had just touched the knob when the door swung open from outside without warning. He almost collided head-on with the culprit, but thanks to his naturally endowed quick reflexes, he managed to prevent that from happening.
Looking up, the culprit turned out to be Jaxon, his Beta and best-friend.
"Sorry. I had no idea that you were there," the latter apologized after realizing what just happened.
As superhuman creatures endowed with heightened senses, this kind of near-collision incident was near impossible.
However, there are always exceptions.
And that was when both parties were too anxious to pick up on activities around them—something that was initially as natural as breathing to them.
Because he understood this, he knew that this was neither his nor Jaxon's fault.
"What has got you looking so anxious?" He asked upon taking note of the sense of urgency Jaxon gave off.
At his question, Jaxon remembered what had brought him here. "The underground crypt..."
He never had the chance to say anything more because a heartbeat later, Alexander was gone, vanishing in a blur of motion.
His voice, carried by the wind, was the only thing that remained.
"Gather the others and meet me there."
Without a moment of hesitation, Jaxon raised his head to the sky and let out a long and loud wolf howl—an order for an urgent assembly.
It was their—the werewolves clan—unique way of communicating and no matter how advanced the human technology had become, they still haven't found or developed a way to decipher its meanings.
Soon after, several wolf howls which came from both inside and outside the manor responded to his call.
On getting their response, Jaxon didn't wait for the others to join him before heading down an unassuming corridor, one rarely used by anyone but him and Alexander.
With each step he took, other figures gradually appeared and fell behind him, matching his pace.
By the time they stood in front of the wine cellar at the end of the corridor, everyone had arrived.
Just then, Jaxon and the others once again felt the ground beneath their feet shake, the tremors more violent than before.
His face turned a shade more solemn.
If it really was the person in there causing this commotion, then it was likely that a tough battle lay ahead of them...