Omens Over Mooncall,The Alpha Heir They Tried to Ruin

The moment I inscribed my name into the registry for the National Moon-Ink Rite Trial, strange text began scrolling across my vision:

[Here it comes! The idealized love ex-intended returns from the distant territories, steals the Alpha Heir's ritual sigils, gets exposed and humiliated, reputation destroyed!]

[Sure, the Beta Matron and her ex-intended were childhood packmates, but they haven't crossed paths in seven or eight cycles. No way that competes with a pair who's been running together day and night!]

[Idealized love? Please. Kael Nightforge is just a rejected villain. Stop hyping him up.]

A young male approached me—dressed in the same humble style I used to favor during my training years.

"Greetings. I'm Darian Ashfen from the neighboring pack's delegation. I've heard you're an incredible rune-scribe. Always wanted to meet you. Never expected we'd cross paths at the same rite trial."

I gave him a cool nod, catching something sharp beneath his mild scent.

After the Council Adjudicators announced the results, Darian grabbed my arm, his eyes rimmed red with what looked like genuine distress.

"You switched our ritual sigils, didn't you? Using such dirty tricks to claim victory—doesn't that eat at your wolf-heart?"

Selene Crownhollow, one of the Council Adjudicators, appeared beside him. Her brow furrowed so deeply you could've crushed a fly between her eyebrows.

"Go to the Elder Council and withdraw yourself. You have no right to advance to the final rite!"

Contemptuous stares bore into me from all directions, the scent of their disdain thick in the air. I turned and pointed at the worst piece of moon-ink work hanging on the ceremonial wall.

"Win what, exactly? I came in dead last. I couldn't advance if I wanted to."

The omen-feed went wild: [Wait wait wait—what in the moon's name is happening?!]

——

Darian's jaw dropped. "Aren't you supposed to be some kind of rune-scribing prodigy? There's no way that chicken scratch is yours!"

Selene—who had pretended not to recognize my scent during registration—suddenly seized my wrist with surprising strength.

"Kael Nightforge! You've been studying territorial arts since you were a pup. You spent seven or eight cycles training in the distant mountain holds. How could you possibly be last?!"

I was momentarily speechless.

If she recognized me, then she should know.

I've always studied realism rune-craft and territory mapping—not traditional moon-ink sigils.

I only entered this rite trial because my parents mentioned Selene was one of the Council Adjudicators. They specifically asked me to give her a nice surprise.

I registered on a whim. Never intended to place.

Then those strange omens appeared and threw me completely off balance.

Darian wiped his tears dramatically. "You're obviously a repeat offender. All those honors you've won—you stole them too, didn't you? We grew up in neighboring territories. I can't just stand by and watch you keep making mistakes!"

I couldn't make sense of his rapid-fire accusations.

When had I ever stolen anyone's work?

And as for Selene and me "growing up together"—

Our fathers' packs had formed alliance pacts a few times. We'd met maybe three or four occasions at formal gatherings, the last one seven or eight cycles ago.

How did that qualify as growing up together?

The omen-feed calling me her "ex-intended"? That was just pups playing at courtship. Selene and I had never actually been promised to each other.

Yet she'd already pronounced me guilty.

"Withdraw from the rite trial quietly. Hold a public howl and return all the glory that doesn't belong to you." Her grip tightened, claws threatening to emerge. "Otherwise, don't force me to break off our intended mate-claim!"

She was surprisingly strong. She'd dragged me several steps before I could even think to resist.

I frowned. "Intended mate-claim?"

My parents had never mentioned any arranged bonding. They'd always supported me finding my true mate on my own.

What was she talking about?

My genuine confusion must have looked like fear to her.

Disdain flickered in her amber eyes. "If my parents hadn't insisted I get close to you, I wouldn't have spared you a second glance!"

Darian let tears roll down his cheeks, playing the gracious victim.

"If he won't admit it, just let it go. It's only a rite trial. There's always next cycle."

Before I could reiterate that I really did come in last—that I hadn't pulled any tricks—

Selene rushed to shield him, her protective stance unmistakable.

"You come from nothing, Darian! You were counting on winning first place to pay your tribute to the Academy! By next cycle, you'll have been cast out of the pack territories!"