The boy, Thu, had grown far quicker than I anticipated. At six years old, his presence in the pack was already undeniable. His golden eyes, so much like mine, gave the illusion of belonging, but his demeanor betrayed the blood that flowed in his veins. His aura was sharp, feral, and commanding—a dangerous mix of Fenrir’s cunning and Seraiah’s fire.
Yet, he took my eyes. Those were the only moments that gave me pause, those rare flickers of familiarity when he gazed at me, and I saw something akin to my own reflection staring back. It was maddening.
I took Thu with me as I traveled through the territories, introducing him to the borders he would one day oversee. Or so I allowed him to believe.
“This,” I said, gesturing to the dense forest ahead, “is the northern border. Beyond it lies the Bloodfang Pack. They’re allies, for now.”
Thu nodded, his sharp eyes scanning the area. He absorbed everything like a sponge, but I never gave him the full picture. He didn’t need to know the secret paths, the weaknesses in the defenses, or the true power dynamics at play.
“Why don’t we attack them?” he asked suddenly, his voice cold and emotionless.
I stiffened, hiding my reaction. “We don’t attack allies unless they give us a reason.”
“But if they’re weak, isn’t it smarter to take what’s ours before they realize it?”
My wolf stirred uneasily. He was too much like them—Fenrir and Seraiah. Ruthless, strategic, and unrelenting.
“We don’t rule through unnecessary bloodshed,” I said firmly, but the truth was I wasn’t entirely convinced of my own words.
Thu merely smirked, a small, knowing curve of his lips that made my stomach twist.
Back at the main camp, Thu’s presence became even more disruptive. The other pups avoided him, and those who didn’t were soon forced to. He was cruel in ways I didn’t expect, his punishments for perceived slights both physical and psychological.
“I am the heir,” he declared one day, standing atop the training grounds with a boy pinned beneath his clawed foot. “You will respect me or suffer.”
The boy whimpered, but Thu pressed harder, drawing blood. The other pups froze, their fear thick in the air.
“Enough!” My voice cut through the scene like a blade.
Thu looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with defiance. For a moment, I thought he would challenge me, but he stepped back, letting the boy scramble away.
“They need to learn, Mother,” he said, his tone eerily calm.
“They’ll learn under my rules,” I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. “You’re not Alpha yet, Thu. Remember that.”
He bowed his head, but the smirk never left his face.
My revenge against Fenrir was slow, deliberate. The years had done little to dull my anger. If anything, it burned brighter with each passing day. I wanted him to suffer, to feel the weight of his betrayal as heavily as I did.
It started small—an injury here, a lost title there.
During a sparring session, I “accidentally” caught him off guard, slashing his arm deeply enough to leave a permanent scar.
“Careless,” I said coldly as he clutched his bleeding limb.
Fenrir’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and hurt, but he said nothing. He knew better than to challenge me openly.
Then came the titles. I began stripping him of his responsibilities under the guise of restructuring the pack’s leadership.
“The pack needs stronger figures in these roles,” I told the council. “Fenrir has done his best, but we must prepare for the future.”
The council, ever loyal, nodded in agreement. Fenrir’s jaw clenched, but again, he remained silent. He knew this was only the beginning.
Meanwhile, my hatred for Thu grew with every passing day. He wasn’t mine. He couldn’t be.
Still, there were moments that tested my belief.
One night, I found him sitting by the fire in my chambers, staring into the flames. His small figure was still, but his golden eyes burned with intensity.
“Why are you here?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he replied without looking at me. “The dreams were loud.”
“What dreams?”
“Voices,” he said simply. “Telling me things.”
My wolf bristled. “What things?”
Thu finally turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “That I’m meant for greatness. That no one can stop me.”
His words chilled me, but I refused to show it. “Dreams are just that, Thu. Dreams. They mean nothing.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “Do you dream, Mother?”
“Not anymore,” I said curtly, turning away.
The whispers about me began to spread. The pack noticed my coldness toward Thu, my calculated dismantling of Fenrir’s power. Some speculated that I was losing my mind, while others suggested that I was preparing for something greater.
It didn’t matter. Let them talk.
What did matter was finding my true child. I refused to believe that Seraiah had vanished without leaving a trace. She was too cunning for that.
I sent spies into the neutral territories, hunters tasked with tracking her movements. Months turned into years, and still, they brought back nothing.
Several weeks later, Fenrir confronted me in the Alpha Hall.
“This has to stop, Astra,” he said, his voice trembling with barely contained anger.
I raised an eyebrow. “What, exactly, are you referring to?”
“Everything!” he exploded. “The way you treat Thu, the way you undermine me at every turn. This pack is falling apart because of your obsession with something that isn’t real!”
I stood slowly, letting my power fill the room. “Choose your next words carefully, Fenrir.”
He hesitated, but his desperation won out. “He’s your son, Astra. Thu is your blood, your heir. You’re destroying everything for a lie!”
I stepped closer, my voice a deadly whisper. “The only lie here is the one you and Seraiah built. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
Fenrir’s shoulders sagged, his anger replaced by defeat. “You’re going to tear this pack apart.”
“Then so be it,” I said coldly.
Thu continued to grow, his power becoming more evident with each passing day. He shadowed me constantly, learning the dynamics of our territory, our allies, and our enemies. But I never gave him everything.
He noticed, of course. He was smarter than his age. The blood of Seraiah running through his veins.
“Why do you hold back?” he asked one day as we stood atop the eastern cliffs. The wind whipped through his dark hair, making him look older than his years.
“I don’t trust anyone completely,” I replied, my tone neutral.
“Not even me?”
“Especially not you.”
He smirked, as if my answer amused him.
“But every mother trusts their pup with their life. Isn’t that weird?” he asked, his eyes blinking.
“Not this mother. Trust has to be earned little one” I retorted.
For a moment, there was silence between us, the kind that felt like the calm before a storm.
Late one night, I received a report from one of my spies. They’d found a trail—faint, but promising. Despite banishing Seraiah just so I can plan well, I kept tabs on her. But Fenrir kept closing the trail.
Seraiah had been spotted in the outskirts of the neutral territories, living among rogues. My wolf surged with anticipation, the need for vengeance burning brighter than ever.
I summoned Rakan, the trusted beta, and handed him the report.
“Find her,” I ordered. “Bring her to me alive.”
Rakan hesitated. “My lady, is this wise? you banished her. The pack is already—”
“Do not question me, Rakan,” I snapped. “Just do as I say.”
He bowed and left without another word.
As I waited for news, my mind raced with possibilities. What would I do when I finally faced Seraiah again? Would I demand answers? Take back what was mine? I should have checked the child’s face that night.
The uncertainty gnawed at me, but I refused to let it show. The pack needed a strong leader aside Fenrir and I couldn’t afford to falter now.
The days stretched into weeks, and still, Rakan did not return. I began to wonder if Seraiah had outsmarted me once again, slipping through my grasp like smoke.
Meanwhile, Thu’s behavior grew darker. He began challenging the betas, testing his strength against theirs.
“He’s preparing for something,” Fenrir warned me one night.
“Good,” I said. “Let him prepare. He’ll need it.”
Fenrir frowned, his concern undeniable. “Astra, you’re playing with fire.”
I turned to him, my eyes blazing. “Fire is all I know.”
