Page 96 of Moonlit Fate

Descending the staircase was like wading through molasses again, every step heavy with what awaited. But there he was, Atticus, my heart’s compass. His presence alone sent tiny tremors coursing through me.

“Ragnar is laid to rest in the mausoleum,” Atticus said. “He is safe and honored.”

Something fractured inside me at the mention of my father’s name, and then Atticus’s arms were around me, muffling the sobs that broke free before I could reel them in. How foolish to think I had any composure left.

“Gods, look at me,” I chastised myself, a rogue tear streaking down my cheek. “Falling apart again when I just pieced myself together. This is all my fault. If only I had been paying better attention. If only?—”

“Stop,” Atticus said firmly, pulling back to hold my gaze. “This isn’t on you. Fate deals cruel hands, but we play with the cards we’re given.”

“Thank you.” I drew from his strength. “But there’s no time for tears now. The pack needs their alpha. They need to hear from me.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, arching his brow. “You can take a moment?—”

“No,” I said firmly. “This cannot wait.”

“Then I will stand with you,” Atticus said, his touch a solemn promise as we moved toward the solemn gathering ahead.

Ragnar’s wise eyes would never meet mine again. There would never again be guidance from him.

“Take a minute,” Atticus whispered. “Mourn him. There’s time.”

With leaden steps, I moved toward the remnants of our once-vibrant gathering place. I stood before the pack, their faces marred with loss and uncertainty, mirroring the turmoil that churned inside me.

“Today, we faced the unthinkable,” I said steadily despite the tremors that threatened to unravel me. “Today, we lost more than our alpha. We lost a guiding star.”

I felt their pain, their need for assurance, for direction. It was a force that wove through the throng, binding us in shared anguish.

“Yet even as we grieve, we must look to the horizon. Ragnar’s legacy lives on in us, in me. His lessons, his spirit, they are the bedrock on which we will rebuild. And though my heart may bleed, it will not break. For I am your alpha now, and I will lead us into a future where we honor his memory with our every breath.”

Atticus hovered near the gathered wolves, his presence a constant comfort.

“Ragnar taught me that leadership is not a path walked alone,” I continued. “It is a journey we embark on as one pack, one family. With every step, we will grow stronger and more united. We will face our future with heads held high.”

The murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, solidarity that bolstered my wavering spirit. I was their alpha, forged in fire and baptized in loss.

Silence covered the clearing in a mournful hush, punctuated only by the occasional sob that escaped from the bereaved wolves gathered with me. My chest was an aching void where my father once resided.

“Meet me at his burial site when the sky blushes with the kiss of night,” I said. “We honor the past by embracing the future.”

With that, I turned, my steps firm. Leadership was mine to bear. The murmurs of their grief and pledges of loyalty were the undercurrent to the crickets that now began their evening serenade. My father’s teachings pulsed through me, a lattice of wisdom that held me upright when all I wanted was to collapse.

Through it all, Atticus was there, his presence a silent vigil. He watched over me. It was as though he wished to wrap me in his arms without ever touching me, to support without overstepping the boundaries I had to set as alpha.

Before I drifted toward him, Seren and Eldan approached. As they pulled me into their arms, I was reminded of the support that came from unity, the comfort found in shared sorrow.

“Thank you.” I pulled back just enough to look at Seren. “You saved us. Your power, it’s our savior in these darkest times. You cannot hide it.”

“Hide it?” She shook her head, strands of her hair catching the dying light. “No longer. Not after today.”

“Good.” I smiled, though it was more a baring of teeth, a promise of vengeance to the forces that dared challenge us. “We need that light now more than ever.”

Eldan nodded, his usually jovial face somber yet resolute. “We stand with you. Through fire and shadow, we stand.”

“Stay close.” I glanced at them. “There is much to be done, and dusk waits for no one.”

As they nodded, I turned to find Atticus once again. Our eyes met across the clearing, and even at this distance, I felt the heat of his gaze as if it were a physical caress. Yet, he remained where he was, an unwavering support that asked for nothing in return but my well-being.

“Atticus,” I said, and he stepped forward, his movements predatory yet gentle. “Always there,” I added, acknowledging what he offered—unconditional support, the kind that didn’t smother but fortified.

---