The Lupine Crown
The main hall of the packhouse brimmed with tension as Malrik stood at the center, holding a twisted circlet of blackened silver in his hands. The Lupine Crown, as he called it, faintly glowed with ancient runes, casting eerie reflections across the walls. His pale features, already stark, appeared almost spectral in the dim light.
“This,” Malrik declared, his voice smooth yet commanding, “is the pride of Onyx Dusk. A relic of ancient power, granted to those worthy of its strength. It doesn’t merely amplify abilities—it elevates its bearer to greatness.”
A ripple of murmurs passed through the gathered alphas. Some leaned forward with interest, while others, like Elyra of the Silver Moon Pack, stiffened in their seats. “Power like that,” she said, her silver eyes narrowing, “isn’t given freely. What’s the cost, Malrik?”
Malrik’s gray eyes gleamed, his smirk faint. “The cost, Elyra, is borne only by those unfit to wield it. The strong thrive. The weak… do not. Surely you understand.”
Draven stood to the side, his broad frame tense, his amber eyes locked on the relic with a quiet fury. Isla, standing just behind him, felt the waves of his agitation as he flexed his claws, his composure barely held in check.
Later, after the display concluded and the visiting alphas had dispersed to their quarters, Draven paced their chambers. His voice was a low growl. “He’s playing them like fools. And some of them are falling for it.”
“He’s manipulative,” Isla agreed, her silver hair catching the firelight. “But relics don’t make a leader, Draven. You do.”
Draven’s gaze softened as he looked at her, but his jaw remained tight. “Relics don’t, but Malrik’s words do. He knows exactly how to seed doubt. And those alphas aren’t blind to our struggles.”
Their conversation was interrupted later that evening when Isla ventured into the courtyard for air. Malrik approached her, his step light, his hands tucked into the folds of his cloak. “Did you enjoy the display?” he asked, his tone conversational.
“What do you want, Malrik?” Isla asked, her voice steady but cool.
Malrik stopped a few feet from her, holding her gaze. “To share potential, Luna. The Lupine Crown isn’t meant to sit in shadows. It’s meant for someone like you—graceful, powerful, touched by the Moon Goddess herself.”
She stepped back, her eyes narrowing. “You’re wasting your time. My loyalty lies with my mate and my pack.”
Malrik smiled faintly, unfazed. “If you ever want to see what that crown can truly do, Isla,” he said softly, his tone almost reverent, “you need only ask.”
