Page 104 of Moonlit Fate

She shook her head, her eyes wide and haunted. “I don’t know... not yet.”

As the dust settled over the earth, we approached the monolith with tentative steps. It loomed before us, dark and imposing, its surface carved with symbols that shimmered faintly in the waning light. Symbols that mirrored those in the vanished portal.

“Would you look at that,” Atticus said next to me.

“Those symbols...” Each line and curve was a mystery that beckoned. The cool stone stretched beneath my fingertips, old and enigmatic, whispering of an age long past.

“Are they a message?” Atticus asked, his thumb brushing mine, a small comfort against the surge of unknowns we faced.

“Or a warning,” I said softly, echoing his earlier words. The symbols stood silent, their meanings just out of reach, but their intent clear: something had shifted, something monumental.

“Perhaps they’re a guide.” Atticus shrugged. “We will have to figure it out.”

This was not what I’d expected, not what the prophecy had foretold. In all the times I’d acted impulsively, guided by raw impulses, nothing had prepared me for the helpless dread of standing before the unknown.

How could we interpret a message we couldn’t understand? How could we prepare for a war when we didn’t even know who the enemy was?

In hushed silence,we packed up our things, stealing glances at the monolith that had emerged in the landscape after the ritual. Was this the answer to our problems, or had we made things worse? Based on the sinking feeling in my stomach and theexpressions of those around me, it was apparent that, like me, they didn’t believe things had gone the way we’d hoped.

Uncovered by the shadow of the sun, the moon cast a soft, ethereal light over the forest. The pack stood, engaged in conversation with the rogues, their words floating through the forest. Witnessing my pack and Atticus’s chosen family conversing so naturally should have felt like a dream realized. My father’s loyal group of elders were easily spotted, huddled together and shooting disapproving glances in my direction. I couldn’t help but worry that their negative opinions would be like a dark cloud hanging over my head. Sighing, I suppressed the doubts that consumed me.

I stood in the center of our new reality. I had to acknowledge the pack for coming for me, for believing in me.

“Thank you, everyone,” I said. “Your support means so much more than I can express. I know the eclipse celebrations did not go the way we planned. I invite everyone back to the manor for a feast. We may not have been able to celebrate the eclipse, but let’s celebrate each other and the bond we share as a pack.” I turned to Atticus. “The invitation includes you and your chosen family. We’d be honored to have you join us,” I said, but the easy rapport between us seemed to have faded, replaced by an awkwardness and a sense of formality.

He nodded, but he didn’t say a word as we returned to the manor. Seren and Elden walked with us, sharing concerned glances.

The manor’svast dining hall was more like a tomb than a home. Silverware clinked softly against plates, an eerie song of a meal that should have been comforting but wasn’t. I sat at the headof the grand table, its dark wood glinting in the dim light, every inch the alpha I never asked to be.

My fingers drummed a nervous tattoo on the armrest of my chair, a beat out of sync with my racing heart. Something in me was fractured. Wild. The peace I’d felt before the monolith appeared was gone, replaced with… something I couldn’t name.

I sat with my family—Seren, Eldan, Atticus, and his kin, each lost in their own contemplations. I could almost hear their thoughts: whispers of worry, murmurs of mystery, all revolving around the chaos we’d unwittingly unleashed.

“Today was unexpected,” I acknowledged. “The symbols, the lightning, the fissure, it’s a lot to process.”

I expected nods, murmurs of agreement, but they remained quiet, their silence as heavy as the foreboding that pressed down on us.

“Unexpected is one word for it,” Eldan finally said. He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression creasing his brow. “But not insurmountable. We’ve faced darkness before.”

“Darkness, yes. But never such enigmas written in stone,” Seren said quietly. She stared at the rim of her goblet as if she could divine meaning from its smooth curve. Her usual confidence seemed shaken.

“Whatever it means, we’ll figure it out,” I said. “We have no other choice.”

The room fell silent once more, each of us retreating into our own minds. The ghost of my father’s presence lingered in the corners, his absence a void no amount of resolve could fill. Grief clawed at my chest, a reminder that his legacy was now mine to uphold, yet the threads connecting me to those I loved most were fraying.

My heart ached as I looked at Atticus, whose life had become irrevocably entwined with mine.

I was an alpha without a compass, a leader haunted by doubt.

Lyza, always the observant one, watched Seren with a furrowed brow. She was worried, yet she remained silent, respecting the distance Seren needed to process whatever wisdom she’d gleaned from the ethereal communion.

“Something is coming,” Seren said, more to herself than to any of us. Hale nodded, his hand offering a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder.

“Always is,” I said, and sighed. “Isn’t that the way of our world? Constant change, endless challenges.” My attempt at levity fell flat.

Atticus’s hand found mine under the table, a secret clasp between lovers facing an uncertain dawn. His touch sent a jolt through me, reminding me of everything that was at stake.

“Thoughts?” I asked, interrupting the silence. “The vortex, the spirits... it was more than any of us had bargained for.”

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