Page 16 of Moonlit Fate

Fighting against the overwhelming tide of negative emotions that swept through the ranks was futile. Whispers in the pack about my relationship with the shadows had been eroding their trust in me for some time. I wouldn’t be surprised if my father had been the source of the rumors—he’d always feared me—and this made his decision easier. The unity of the pack was paramount above all else, even the truth. He had the power to banish me solely on someone else’s word, making him the hero in their eyes.

As the elders agreed, I fell apart, leaving me exposed and alone against the elements of judgment.

“You are hereby exiled,” my father concluded, his tone carrying the finality of a guillotine.

I looked around one last time, committing every face to memory. The faces of those who had raised me, trained me, fought beside me. Now they were the ones banishing me. So much for loyalty.

Without another word, I turned my back on them, on everything I’d ever known. Each step away from the pack, from the land that had held my every dream and achievement, weighed heavier than the last. I shifted, my paws sinking into the soft soil, reluctant to break their bond with the sacred earth.

As I crossed the threshold of the territory, the familiar scents and sounds that once heralded safety now reeked of rejection. I was a lone figure against the expanse of wilderness.

With each stride into the uncharted, my resolve hardened me, forging a rogue from the ashes of abandonment. They would fear me. For in their fear, they created what they sought to destroy—a wolf free of pack law, who could forge his own path.

The dream lingered, a veil draped over my consciousness as I woke. I carried the invisible scars of those broken bonds, the echoes of lost kinship howling in the chambers of my soul. My chosen family had often reminded me that the pack’s dread of my gifts and the authority that coursed through my veins was not my fault.

“They wanted you out because they didn’t understand and couldn’t exert control over you,” Lyza had once said.

Restlessness itched beneath my skin, an incessant urge that propelled me from the comfort of my quarters and out into the forest. I ran along the perimeter of the unclaimed lands, leaves whispering as I passed. The magic here was different, vibrant, as if it was almost waiting to exhale a breath it had been holding for centuries.

I searched for answers in the woods, but the forest held its tongue, offering only murmurs on the wind. Anticipation threaded through the woods, a foreshadowing of some grand unveiling that I was yet to comprehend. Whatever transformation this land was undergoing, it was bigger than my existence.

After a while, I caught the sharp tang of another rogue’s scent. Our eyes met, each assessing danger and intent in that silent communication unique to our kind. My ears twitched to the side as I caught the rustling of leaves under his cautious steps.

“Atticus.”He hailed me with a nod.

“Ryker.”

Our forms shimmered in the dim light, muscles and sinew giving way to flesh and bone. The transformation was as instinctive as a heartbeat, leaving Ryker and me standing as men. His presence was not unwelcome, but the unexpected encounter made my nerves tingle with the intensity of a swarm of buzzing bees.

“You feel it, too, right?” Ryker asked. “The magic… it’s… volatile. Different. Restless.”

I shifted on my feet, the unsettling energy seeping into the soles of my bare feet. “Perhaps.”

His eyes unfocused, as if peering into a reality only he could see. “But there’s more at play here. It’s the prophecy. I believe it is time for it to finally come to fruition.”

Such talk had always been relegated to the sphere of elders and mystics. I was a pragmatist and didn’t entertain notions of so-called prophecies. Yet, there was no denying the peculiar stirrings under our feet or the latent promises that hummed in the air.

“Prophecy?” The word slipped from my lips, heavy with disbelief. I eyed the rogue before me. His stance was uneasy, as if he was unsure of the very earth beneath his feet.

“They say the forest is awakening,” he said reverently. “That a great change is coming. It’s tied to an ancient prophecy about two shifters who will shift the balance of power.”

“And you believe in these old tales?”

“I didn’t used to.” Ryker shrugged. “But there is no denying the forest is in flux. There are whispers of strange happenings, of the trees swaying when there’s no breeze, and the subtle hum of an ancient power.” With a cautious glance, he surveyed the surroundings, his worried expression hinting at a fear that his words had the potential to summon danger.

“Stay safe, Atticus.” With that, he left.

His cryptic comments stayed with me, an enigmatic puzzle that demanded my attention. I shifted and resumed my solitary run through the woods. The forest enveloped me tightly, its presence more pronounced than ever.

I moved with the grace of the predator I was, my steps slowing when I reached a clearing I had not intended to seek.

There, bathed in the glow of the moon, stood Aria.

Surprise flickered through me as I considered the serendipitous turn of events. I’d had no destination in mind, having taken my route out of reflex, yet it was as if I’d been summoned to this place. To her.

Her silhouette was etched against the ethereal light, a vision that set my heart pounding. Her stance was tense, and my intuition screamed at me to remain alert, to brace for the unknown that had guided me here.

I took a measured breath, the cool air filling my lungs with the intoxicating aroma that was uniquely hers. With reverence befitting the sacredness of the moment, I stepped into the clearing.

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