Orion Nyx stood before the crackling fireplace, his eyes burning with fury.
"He's just a Beta, why does he act so clever? That's what happens when you spend too much time with that idiot, Theron," he muttered, his tone dripping with mockery.
His fists clenched so tightly that his nails nearly pierced his skin. He refused to be undermined by a Beta who should be kneeling before him.
"I'll make sure they all understand who truly holds the power. If anyone dares to challenge me again, they'll suffer the consequences."
In the corner of the room, one of his loyal followers kept his head bowed, too afraid to meet Orion's blazing gaze. That night, the fire inside him burned hotter than ever—his rule would not be shaken by anyone.
***
Inside the grand hall of the Vareth Clan, heated arguments filled the torch-lit chamber. The sturdy stone walls echoed with voices laced with anger and scorn. The clan's elders sat in a rough wooden circle, their gazes locked in tense deliberation.
"So we're really going to bow to that adopted pup?" scoffed a broad-shouldered warrior with a scar running across his face. "Orion Nyx isn't even of true Umbra Alpha blood, yet he acts like he's their rightful heir. Are we seriously going to support him?"
Some clan members nodded in agreement, while others remained silent, carefully weighing their words.
Lysias, one of the Vareth Clan's war leaders, crossed his arms. "We're not bowing to Orion. We're allying with him—for our own gain. If the Umbra Clan falls under our influence, we can control them from the shadows. Besides, our Alpha has already approved this alliance."
"Our Alpha?" A voice cut through the room, this time from a silver-haired woman seated in the corner. Her eyes narrowed. "Or has our Alpha forgotten the pride of the Vareth Clan and chosen to become a lapdog to a traitor?"
Murmurs of discontent rippled through the room, accompanied by scoffs and jeers. Doubt toward Orion was growing, and while some still obeyed their Alpha's decision, it was clear that the Vareth Clan was far from unified in this alliance.
In the shadows, a lean man with sharp eyes watched the debate unfold, a faint smirk playing on his lips. He remained silent, but his mind was already at work, calculating the possibilities. This division was the beginning of something bigger—and if played right, it might just be the key to toppling the current power.
***
Elsewhere, deep within the sprawling darkness of the forest, footsteps rustled through dry leaves with measured caution. The Zevra Clan had caught Lysandra's scent. Led by their Alpha, Kael Zevra, a group of shadow warriors moved in silence—predators closing in on their prey.
Kael halted, his sharp golden eyes glinting under the moonlight. He raised a hand, signaling his men to stop. In the cold night air, his senses sharpened, his nose picking up the faint traces of the blood witch's presence.
"She's close," he murmured, his voice low but certain.
One of his warriors, a broad-shouldered man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward slightly. "That blood witch is cunning. If she knows we're coming, she's likely already set a trap."
Kael's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Of course she knows. But that doesn't matter. We're not ordinary hunters."
They pressed on, but with every step, the path ahead seemed to loop back on itself. The trees around them blurred together, their roots forming eerily familiar patterns. A soldier frowned. "Alpha… we've passed this spot before."
Kael didn't look surprised. Instead, he tilted his head back, glancing at the sky before letting out a quiet chuckle.
"Illusion magic," he mused. "Clever."
From her hiding place, Lysandra watched through a small crystal orb, observing as the Zevra hunters unknowingly circled the same path over and over. A cold smile touched her lips as she closed her fingers around the crystal, tightening the web of deception around them.
"You want to catch me, Kael?" she whispered. "Let's see who's the better player in this game."
*
A thick fog blanketed the forest, casting shifting shadows that danced between the trees. The night wind carried faint whispers, while the dim moonlight barely pierced through the dense darkness. In the distance, hurried footsteps rustled against the forest floor, rough and restless.
Perched on a sturdy tree branch, Lysandra's eyes glowed faintly red as she whispered an incantation into the air. Wisps of black smoke curled around her before drifting downward, spreading across the ground like a spectral mist—an illusion designed to confound her hunters.
From her hiding place, she watched as the Zevra Clan warriors came to a sudden halt, confusion flickering across their faces as her tracks disappeared into nothing. Some of them muttered in frustration, blaming one another. Lysandra smirked, savoring the sight of them stumbling into her trap.
"Interesting," a deep voice rumbled behind her.
Theron leaned against the tree trunk, arms crossed, a skeptical expression on his face. "Why not just face them head-on?"
Lysandra glanced at him, the smirk still playing on her lips. "Why waste energy on something I can handle effortlessly? Why fight when I can toy with their minds instead?"
Theron scoffed, his gaze fixed on the distant warriors as they gradually drifted further away. "And what exactly are they after? Or… who?"
Lysandra's smirk faded slightly. Her eyes darkened as she turned to him, a new wariness in her stare. "Why do you care?" Her voice was cold, sharp. "Do you want me too? Like them?"
Theron studied her, reading the guarded look on her face. He knew Lysandra wasn't someone who trusted easily, and apparently, he was no exception.
"I just want to know who's chasing the person who saved my life," he said casually, though a hint of tension edged his tone. "And whether I should be preparing to protect you… or protect myself from you."
Lysandra let out a quiet laugh, but there was no amusement in her eyes. "You're sharpe than I thought, Theron. But don't worry—if I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have time to ask why."