Page 12 of Fated
Fenrir surged forward, the wolf’s fierce pride in their lineage momentarily overwhelming Caleb’s doubts.
“Make no mistake, Caleb. When the other packs abandoned Selene’s teachings, it wasourwithdrawal that kept the true spirit of Her blessing alive.” Erik’s battle-scarred hand closed into a fist on the table. “Our isolation wasn’t just a choice. It was salvation. The last bastion of what it truly means to be Selene’s children.”
Erik closed his eyes for a moment, hands clasping together as he gathered himself. When he spoke again, his voice had softened to barely above a whisper. “But yes, the cost was great. Over time, the world forgot what Crescent Fang stood for. Our wisdom became myth, our strength overlooked.”
Caleb leaned forward, hands gripping the edge of the ancient table. “If my grandfather was right to withdraw, why should we go back now?”
A soft chuckle escaped Erik as he gestured toward the tapestry. “Perhaps Fenrir’s right, and we shouldn’t.” His expression sobered. “This isn’t a decision for you alone, young Alpha. The elders have shepherded Crescent Fang’s isolation for generations. Many will question whether you—still establishingyour authority among them—should be the one to potentially reverse Odin’s legacy.”
Fenrir bristled at the implied challenge, a low growl building in Caleb’s throat before he swallowed it back.
“The council has allowed you latitude in small matters, but this decision...it touches our very foundation.” Erik’s voice took on the measured cadence of ancient ritual. “But there’s another perspective to consider. There’s a belief, long held in Crescent Fang, that Selene’s retreat wasn’t abandonment. It was preservation.”
“Preservation?”
Erik spoke with absolute conviction. “She withdrew to conserve Her strength, to prepare for a time when Her children would need Her most. A time when Her light would guide them home.” He straightened, chest out, chin lifted. “Some believe that time is drawing near.” The scent of cedar and old leather filled the silence that followed, while Erik’s fingers drummed once—deliberately—against the worn wood of the table.
“I’m not the light,” Caleb blurted, shaking his head.
“No,” Erik agreed, a quiet snort softening his words. “But perhaps Fenrir’s rebirth and participation at the summit is the beginning of something greater. A spark.” Erik relaxed in his chair, tone shifting to something more practical. “For now, your task isn’t to decide the Collective’s fate. It’s to learn. Observe. Let them see Crescent Fang’s strength and faith, not through force, but through presence.”
The tension eased from Caleb’s posture. This, at least, felt achievable.
Steam rose between them, carrying the earthy scent of herbs that tickled Caleb’s nose as Erik continued, “Answer their questions honestly, but don’t overcommit. Leave doors open, but make no promises.” His tone grew firm. “And whatever youdo, don’t let their doubts shake your foundation. We know who we are, Caleb. Show them.”
Caleb felt his wolf’s approval rumble through his chest. His chin lifted, pride in his pack’s heritage straightening his spine.
The shifting sunlight sent shadows dancing across the walls as Erik’s expression grew thoughtful. Caleb leaned forward in his chair, recognizing the shift in his mentor’s demeanor that always preceded his most valuable insights.
“The packs you’ll meet... They’re like threads in a tapestry, each one distinct yet part of a greater whole. Some you may recognize; others may surprise you.” Erik reached for an old leather-bound book, its pages yellowed with age. “Take Blackwater, for instance. They’re scholars at heart.” A fond smile crossed his face. “In my day, they traded in knowledge like currency, listening more than they spoke. If you want insight into the archives, they’re the ones to seek.”
Caleb nodded, mentally cataloging the information.
“Then there’s Redridge,” he went on, a soft smile forming. “They were new to the Collective at the time—smaller, but unique. Their alpha and beta shared a mate—a fated trio.” He chuckled at Caleb’s raised eyebrows. “It raised quite a few eyebrows back then too, but Odin recognized their bond for what it was. Genuine.”
A fated trio?Hope swelled in Caleb’s chest at the possibility that Selene could bless him and Asher with a similar fate.
Erik’s hand brushed over the book’s worn cover. “Moonshadow was always known for its balance—walking the line between progress and tradition better than most. They blended modern innovation with devotion to Selene.” His expression grew serious. “If you encounter them, you’ll find wisdom there—but don’t mistake their humility for weakness.”
Fenrir’s ears perked beneath Caleb’s skin, snapping to attention. “You speak of them with respect.”
“I do.” Erik nodded earnestly. “Not every pack upheld Selene’s values, though. Ironclaw…” He shook his head. “They were never satisfied with what they had—always seeking more land, more power, more recognition. Their ambition made them dangerous, even among allies.”
“And our neighbors... Bloodstone?” Caleb asked, the cottage’s warmth evaporating as a chill crept up his spine at the mention of their powerful neighbors.
“Ah.” Erik’s face sharpened with memory. “Rahoul, Darius’s father, was a force of nature. His will was like a storm, driven by instincts he believed were Selene’s whispers. His influence in the Collective was immense, and his pack reflected that strength.”
He set the book aside and picked up his cup, draining the last drops before placing it down with the same careful precision he’d shown throughout their conversation. “Remember these dynamics, Caleb. They may have changed in your time, but history often repeats itself. Learn from them, but trust your instincts.”
“And reintegration?” Caleb pressed. His wolf twitched with interest beneath his skin.
Erik’s hand found Caleb’s shoulder. His touch carried the wisdom of generations. “That’s not a decision to make lightly. It’s also not just yours. Heed Fenrir’s warnings, listen to Asher’s hope, consult with the council, and take your time, Alpha.”
Fenrir’s assent rumbled from the base of Caleb’s skull down his spine.“We go. We learn. We plan.”
“Listen to your wolf, your beta, and your heart,” Erik reaffirmed, easing from his chair. “The three together will never steer you wrong.”
Caleb stood, earlier nerves tempered by the elder’s wisdom. “Thank you, Erik. For everything.”
