Page 75 of Moonlit Fate

“The pack is fracturing,” she wailed. “People are questioning Ragnar, doubting his abilities. Larkin is sowing dissent, fostering alliances under the guise of concern.”

I clenched my fists, anger mingling with a fear that ate at my insides. Larkin had always been ambitious, but this? This was a betrayal.

“Is that why the spirits won’t leave you alone?” I asked.

Seren nodded. “They’re screaming warnings, prophecies of doom. The Crimson Fang, they’re not just any pack. They possess something. Something potent and vile, a weapon unfamiliar and formidable. One that can rip the heart out of the forest.”

The seer’s words echoed in my ears:one road riddled with fear leading to destruction. Fear was a familiar adversary, one that had shaped too many of my choices already. But this was different. It signaled a threat that loomed over us all, casting long doubts across our fate.

My absence, once a necessary play for the greater good, now seemed a dereliction of duty. I had left my people vulnerable to the serpentine charm of Larkin’s deceit, a man who wore ambition as a second skin, his intentions as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

“Damn him,” I cursed. The guilt refused to end. I should have been here for my pack to rally around instead of being a ghost haunting their lives. “I’ve failed them. I let Larkin weave his web of lies while I chased prophecies.”

Seren lifted her head, her tear-streaked face searching mine. “You haven’t failed anyone,” she said. “You’re doing everything you can to protect us.”

Silver Claw needed more than just protection. They needed a leader, a true alpha who understood the bonds, the faith we placed in one another.

“Should we tell my father?” I asked. “Atticus and I tried. I don’t understand what hold Larkin has over him. I think he might be starting to believe me, but he’s so fucking stubborn. If he’d just open his eyes, he’d see what was happening in front of him. Instead, he’s listening to the elders, those out-of-touch old fools, and insisting I mate with Larkin. Maybe with you by my side, maybe if we tell him what the spirits are telling you, maybe…”

Seren just stared at me.

“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “If we tell him, we’d have to tell him about your ability. It would undoubtedly invite old prejudices, and we’d just see the skepticism and scorn cloud his eyes once again.”

I shook my head against the frustration. No, going to my father was a bad idea. He was stubborn, and the more I pushed him, the more he’d refuse to budge purely on principle. Going to him would also jeopardize Seren’s position within the pack. If we told him that she could communicate with the spirits, my father would share it with his advisors. And what they didn’t understand, they feared. They would cast Seren out of the pack, and we’d be no farther along with the Crimson Fang and Larkin’s deceit.

Atticus was wrong. This burden, it seemed, was mine and mine alone to bear.

With another sigh, I nodded decisively. “Let’s go see Ilaric.”

Seren agreed without hesitation, the unrelenting torment from her spectral visitors dimming her usual vibrancy. We would seek the wisdom of an old soul, one whose insight had never steered me wrong.

We walked across the grounds to a cabin set far in the corner, leaves crunching under our boots. The small structure, with its log walls and moss-covered roof, had a rustic charm and stood as a testament to simpler times.

“Ilaric?” I called out, pushing open the creaky wooden door. Fire crackled in the hearth, and the rich aroma of herbs drifted down from the plants hanging from the rafters.

Ilaric was hunched over a table scattered with texts and curious trinkets. His eyes, sharp as ever, bore into us as if peering straight into the marrow of our souls.

“Sorry for interrupting you,” I said.

“Trouble does not wait for invitations,” he said, his face softening. “Now, tell me what brings the future alpha and her troubled friend to my humble abode.”

We spilled forth our problems—the unrest in the pack, Larkin’s scheming, and the dire prophecies from the spirits.Ilaric listened intently, stroking his bearded chin as he absorbed every word.

“Your burdens are heavy, but they are not yours to carry alone,” he said. “Remember, the alpha leads not by dominance, but by earning the trust of those they guide.”

Seren clung to his every word with hope in her eyes. Perhaps here we could find the guidance we so desperately sought.

“Will you help us navigate these treacherous waters for the sake of our pack? Our family?” I asked.

Ilaric nodded, an unreadable expression settling on his weathered face. “Tell me again what the seer said to you.”

I sighed, closing my eyes to better recall the haunting words. “He said that darkness would threaten to engulf our world, but light could still prevail through unity and strength.” I met Ilaric’s steady gaze. “But what does it mean? How do we find this unity when distrust is festering in our own ranks?”

He considered my words, the lines on his face deepening. “The seer speaks in riddles, yet there is truth in it. It’s not just about fighting the darkness outside… it is about quelling the shadows that divide us.”

His insight struck a chord, and I teetered on an epiphany.

“Larkin is cunning,” he said. “He knows how to exploit fear and uncertainty. But remember, a pack is more than its loudest voices. It’s a community, built from trust and common purpose.”

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