An ominous bell tolled throughout the West Pack at intervals, its resonant sound reminding everyone that today was Alpha Henry’s burial.
The streets were lined with pack mbers who had left their hos early, standing shoulder to shoulder along the roads where Henry’s body would pass. Everyone was dressed in black, their solemn expressions reflecting the gravity of the day.
The procession began at the entrance of the packhouse. Four Deltas erged, carrying Alpha Henry’s "supposed" body on a stone slab etched with the West pack’s sigil.
The truth was, there had been no body to recover. The explosion was so consuming that not even a single bone had been salvaged from the incident. All Asher had been able to gather were the ashes left at the site of his father’s death.
But Alpha Henry was still an Alpha, and tradition demanded he be given the full rites of burial. To honor this, the pack had constructed an effigy, shaping the outline of Henry’s body using straw and clay. This form was then wrapped tightly in pristine white cloth, before being enveloped in thick wolf pelts, a final sign of his rank and status as Alpha.
As soon as the delta took a step out of the pack house, the won were the first to break into a wail. The n all lowered their heads with a grunt, bearing their grief on the inside.
While the deltas moved on, Asher was right behind them, bearing a picture of Alpha Henry Nightshade. Elijah and the others were right behind him. They were all heading to the West pack’s sacred ground where Henry’s body would be burned on the pyre.
As soon as the crowd caught sight of Asher, the won’s wailing intensified. However, while so were busy crying, so others began tossing flowers onto his path, a final tribute to their fallen Alpha.
Asher didn’t let himself get distracted. His face was unreadable as he walked forward, following the procession accordingly.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the Sacred Field.
The field stretched wide, encircled by towering stone pillars etched with the packs sigils. It was said that the first wolves had built this place during the Great War, when the death toll had been so high they needed a ground sanctified by the Moon Goddess herself.
Over ti, it beca a hallowed earth reserved for the most honored dead. Now, only Alphas and those of high rank were buried here. To be laid to rest on this soil, one had to earn it through deeds and rank.
At the center, a raised pyre awaited, while a Moonmother, dressed entirely in white ceremonial robes, stood solemnly at the side of the wooden fra.
The Deltas stepped forward in unison, carefully lifting Alpha Henry’s "body" onto the pyre. Once they stepped back, a heavy silence fell over the clearing, so deep it felt as if the very earth was holding its breath
Then it was the Novas turn to step forward. They were dressed entirely in flowing white garnts, and in their hands, were shallow bowls filled with incense and fragrant herbs.
Moving in perfect harmony, the Novas began a ritualistic dance, their bare feet gliding across the sacred ground. The mist followed their movents, swirling around them.
No one dared to speak or move. Even the smallest children stilled, knowing this dance was for Selene herself, the Moon Goddess. This was a holy offering of devotion and guidance for the departed Alpha’s soul.
When the dance reached its peak, the Moonmother raised her hands high, and the Novas froze in place. Then, she began to chant in a language so ancient that none among the crowd could understand it.
It was said to be the first language of their kind, spoken long before their people were forced to adopt the tongue of humans through centuries of assimilation. Now, only the servants of the Moon Goddess were taught this sacred speech.
The moon mother’s voice was hauntingly beautiful, a lody so strange and deep that even without understanding a single word, every listener felt shivers down their spine. It was like listening to the heartbeat of the earth itself, ancient and eternal.
After the final note, the Moonmother bowed her head and exhaled deeply. Then, in a tone everyone understood, she spoke the sacred blessing: "Moonlit path, guide his soul."
"Moonlit path, guide his soul!" Everyone in the crowd repeated, already familiar with the words.
One of the Novas ca forward, kneeling as she offered the moon mother the ceremonial torch, its tip glowing with the heat of the fla.
The Moonmother accepted it with reverence, then stepped before the pyre and lowered the torch. The dry wood caught fire instantly, flas roaring to life.
The mont the pyre ignited, Luna Patricia let out a raw, guttural scream of grief. She was not alone as her wail was joined by the voices of every woman present, their cries rising together until it beca a sea of mourning.
Roman reached out and patted Asher gently on the shoulder. Though Alpha Henry had been an absolute bastard in life, he was still Asher’s father. And sowhere, buried beneath all the anger and resentnt, Asher was hurting. Losing Henry ant losing the only family he had left—even if that family had been nothing but pain and control. Yeah, Roman understood it all.
His own family wasn’t great either.
But Asher wasn’t alone anymore. He had him. Roman thought with fierce pride. He would be Asher’s family from now on. Not just him, both Violet, and Griffin and Alaric. They would be there for him.
While the crowd still mourned, Alpha King Elijah rose to his feet. Just like that, the wailing stilled. His presence always brought about awe and fear.
His gaze swept across the gathered wolves before his deep voice rang out.
"Alpha Henry Nightshade," Elijah began his dramatic speech, "lived an enviable life. He forged the west pack with his hands and made it what it is today. And that legacy will serve as inspiration to his son and the next Alpha of the West pack, Asher Nightshade."
What the fuck? Roman’s neck almost snapped with the speed he turned. Not just him, a collective gasp swept through the sacred field.
Asher was the most stunned. What was this old man up to now?
Dominic’s expression was the most comical. He looked like soone had just tossed shit on his face. He couldn’t believe it.
Was Elijah really declaring Asher his successor?
But Elijah, as always, moved on before anyone could dwell too long. His lips curled into a small smirk as he continued, "Of course, before we crown our next Alpha, we must honor the one who has passed. The installation of Henry’s monunt will proceed as planned."
Asher groaned under his breath. Just when you think there was hope for this asshole.
Elijah went on to say, "Our enemies thought they would cripple us by striking down Alpha Henry," he thundered. "But today marks not our end, but a new beginning! A stronger, united West pack will rise from these ashes! Let the celebration begin!"
The crowd erupted, howls of approval echoing in the arena. It was tradition that after mourning ca celebration, signalling that the West pack never stayed down when beaten.
Preparations had already been underway. The celebration would be held in the pack square since the packhouse could not hold the entire crowd. Already at the square, massive bonfires blazed to life as the sll of roasting at filled the air. Musicians had taken their position, the sound of drumming echoing as they played festive music known to the people.
One by one, the mourners left the sacred ground, retreating toward the festivities. Until finally, only Asher remained. Well, Asher and Roman.
The pyre had burned down completely, leaving nothing but glowing embers and the acrid scent of smoke. Even though it hadn’t been Henry’s real body, it still felt final.
Asher silently stared at the blackened remains. Roman studied him carefully.
"You know," Roman said, "it’s not a cri to cry."
Asher’s jaw tightened. "I won’t cry for that man." His voice was cold, and clipped.
"You don’t have to cry for him, Asher," Roman told him, "Cry for yourself. Cry for your newfound freedom."
Asher’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. "Freedom?"
Roman reminded him. "You’re free now. Henry can’t hurt you anymore, Asher. Not ever again."
The words hit harder than any blow. Asher stared at Roman for a heartbeat, then two. And just like that, the dam broke. His lips trembled, and before he could stop himself, tears poured down his face.
All the years of abuse, of torture, of carrying scars no one could see, ca crashing down.
Roman didn’t hesitate. "Co here," he said firmly, wrapping his arms around Asher.
Asher collapsed against him, his shoulders shaking as he wept bitterly for the first ti in years.
"It’s alright brother. Just let it all out. Let it go." Roman comforted him all through.
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