Page 77 of Moonlit Fate

Anger flared in me, but I forced myself to remain composed. “My actions, though unseen, have always been for the benefit of this pack,” I said.

The crowd before me fidgeted, their bodies tense with unreleased energy. In their eyes, I found their need for reassurance, for stability. Things I yearned to provide, but struggled to maintain myself. If only they could understand the unseen battles, the ones that raged beyond their sight, perhaps then they would see the truth behind my so-called absence.

“Leadership isn’t just about visible action,” I said. “It’s about making hard choices. About protecting this pack from threats you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Where have you been?” a voice rang out. A man, his furrowed brow marked by worry as much as challenge, steppedforward from the crowd. “While the pack grapples with uncertainty, our alpha’s daughter is nowhere to be seen.”

They didn’t know what I was doing in order to save them. That ominous tick-tock of the clock moving on sounded in my brain. I was running out of time. I didn’t have the ability to talk them down one at a timeandlearn the ritual and the triskele. My lips parted to respond, to defend my choices, but another presence brushed against my side, lending me their silent strength.

“Easy,” Seren murmured to me, her hand clasping mine in support. “They don’t understand, but we do.”

Before I could squeeze her hand in gratitude, another figure emerged from the crowd. Eldan, his imposing frame parting the sea of shifters. His eyes blazed with loyalty as he strode toward us.

“Listen to her,” Eldan boomed, commanding attention. “You’re seeing shadows because you’re in the dark. You don’t have the full story.”

I gazed at him in surprise. Eldan, who had once held the same rigid views as my father, now stood firmly by my side. It was proof that our bonds, formed through shared trials and unwavering support, were unbreakable.

“Thank you,” I said. To see him there, a pillar among pillars, helped more than he’d ever know. “Whatever path lies before us,” I said to the pack, “we walk it together. Trust that I am doing all I can to protect this pack and our future. Believe me when I say that nothing is more important to me than this pack. Every choice I make, every action I take, is to fortify us against the coming storm. Your faith in me might have wavered, but know this—I am as much a part of Silver Claw as my father, as you are, as these lands we love so much.”

A young woman glared at me. “But where does that leave us? We hear rumors, unsettling whispers. We are confused. We deserve an explanation.”

I felt it then, the raw nerves of our pack laid bare. There was a need to be their true selves, their innate gifts suppressed by a culture of misunderstanding, the legacy of my father’s leadership.

This was the moment, the fulcrum on which the future teetered. My absence, my secrecy, bore down on me with an urgency that demanded action. Turning toward the fountain that stood in the middle of the area, I felt the thrum of water beneath the stone calling to me. I stepped closer and extended my hands.

“Watch and listen,” I said.

A torrent of energy coursed through me as I focused, and the water responded to my silent command. It ascended, spiraling up into a column that danced and twisted in the air. It was a captivating display, a swirling proof of the power I had kept hidden for far too long.

The column of water rose above me, its undulations a dance of magic and serenity. It hovered there, suspended in the charged silence of my pack gathered around me. Their eyes, wide with awe and uncertainty, were fixed on me—their future alpha—and the elemental spectacle I had summoned.

“Strange and scary times are indeed upon us,” I said. It was time they understood that my absence was not from neglect. It had been a necessity. “Whatever you have heard, I promise you I have not been avoiding the pack or my duties. I have been preparing to become the leader you need in these perilous times.”

The energy pulsed in me, a rhythm that matched the beating hearts of my pack. I was no longer the girl who acted on whimsand raw passion. The fires of trials yet to come had shaped me, made me into the woman I was now.

The water began to descend, gently cascading back into the fountain, reclaiming its rightful place.

“I am here now,” I said. “Ready to lead us to greatness.” Outwardly, I was the epitome of calm, a lighthouse standing firm against the ocean, but inside, I trembled. “To face whatever threats may come. I am your future alpha, and I will not let us falter.”

I released the last vestiges of my control over the water, and it splashed back into the basin with the softest of sounds, a whisper of acquiescence to my command. There was a collective exhale from the crowd, the tension releasing in tiny ripples that mirrored the settling surface of the fountain’s pool.

“Is it true?” the same young girl asked. “There are rumors about a prophecy. Is it real?”

I swallowed hard. I was often too quick to let my emotions steer my actions. But now, standing before my pack, my words would shape our fate.

“Yes,” I answered. “There is a prophecy.”

They were scared, and rightly so. The unknown had always been the most fertile ground for fear to take root.

“This prophecy speaks of a time of great change,” I continued. “Of challenges that will test us all.” I paused, letting the words sink in, heavy with the promise of trials yet to come. But it wasn’t just a warning; it was a herald of something more, something bright and piercing in its potential.

“But it also speaks of hope, of a path to a stronger, united future.” My own conviction surprised me. “Trust in this, my family,” I said. “We are unbreakable. Our bonds, our love, they are the weapons with which we will carve out our future from the stones of adversity.”

I could see I had won them over. They slowly dispersed, breaking off into twos and threes to discuss this new information.

The crowd’s murmurs had barely faded when Eldan’s voice, low and tinged with disbelief, reached my ears. “I didn’t know you could do that,” he said.

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “I was afraid to tell you,” I admitted. “Afraid that you’d think less of me.”

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