Accusations and Revelations
Tobias rose from his seat with a practiced elegance, his dark cloak flowing behind him as he addressed the room. “Draven,” he began, his tone feigning seriousness, “you stand accused of harboring rogues and maintaining a fractured Luna bond. These aren’t baseless charges—they’re damning. How do you respond?”
Draven’s jaw tightened, his hands clasped behind his back. “The accusations are false. My pack stands united under my leadership. Those who claim otherwise lack the spine to face me directly.”
The jab drew a few chuckles from the more seasoned Alphas, but Tobias’s smirk only widened.
An elder Alpha spoke up, his voice heavy with the authority of age. “We’ve also heard whispers of dark magic within your ranks.”
Micah stepped forward, her small frame dwarfed by the imposing figures around her, but her voice carried unwavering conviction. “As the pack’s healer, I can personally attest that no dark magic has tainted Crimson Fang. Our bond remains pure.”
Tobias’s eyes gleamed as he seized his opening. “And what of the prophecy?” he asked, his gaze shifting to Isla. The question hung in the air, and all eyes followed his lead, locking onto her.
Isla frowned, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said carefully, though her pulse quickened at the sudden scrutiny.
Tobias’s smirk deepened. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
Before he could elaborate, Alaric stepped forward. His usual sarcasm was absent, his expression grim. “It’s true,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the chamber. “Her lineage is tied to the Moon Goddess. If the whispers are correct, Isla’s bloodline holds the key to the region’s survival.”
Gasps rippled through the room, followed by an eerie silence as the council processed the revelation. Tobias’s smirk grew into something darker, more calculated.
“Well,” he said, his voice almost a purr, “this changes everything.”
Draven’s growl broke the tension. “You’d do well to tread carefully, Tobias,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.
Tobias’s gaze flicked to him, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I intend to, Alpha Draven,” he said, his words dripping with mock sincerity. “But you can’t fault me for being… curious.”
Draven stepped forward, the dominance in his posture unmistakable. “Curiosity has cost many their lives. I suggest you remember that.”
The chamber buzzed with murmurs, but Tobias seemed unfazed. His gaze shifted back to Isla, his expression unreadable but sharp with intent.
Isla clenched her fists at her sides, meeting Tobias’s gaze with unwavering determination. If Tobias thought he could unnerve her, he was sorely mistaken.
Draven placed a hand on Isla’s shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. “This council may entertain your games, Tobias,” he said, his voice cold, “but Crimson Fang does not.”
The council chamber fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the scrape of Tobias’s chair as he rose. His smirk widened, his dark presence commanding the attention of the room. “Given these revelations,” he began, his voice smooth and deliberate, “I challenge you, Draven, for leadership.”
