The roars and cheers of celebration had just filled the great halls of the werewolf kingdom of Silverveil. Packs from all over the area had come to celebrate the crowning of its new Alpha. Darkota's power and might were indisputable, and the elders' will had established him as the ruler, despite the whispered protests.
The throne room's doors now creaked open, piercing the icy, tense silence inside. The new Alpha, Darkota, sat in a position that radiated unadulterated strength.
He was huge, had a more muscular body than others, and had a long, coarse beard that hung well below his chin, giving his already intimidating appearance a gruff air.
A permanent memory of the wars waged and the power claimed was the scar that cut across his right eye, but his visage was gloomy in spite of the victories and corrupt deeds that had brought him to this position.
Hesitantly, Darkota's soldiers filed in and knelt before him, and his gaze narrowed. Bigger than the others but obviously nervous, one of the men looked up,
"Alpha" he began, his voice quivering,
"We almost had her"
Darkota's brows lowered, and he leaned forward, letting his fingers drum slowly against the armrest.
"Almost?" he echoed, his voice like ice,
"Are you telling me you failed?"
The soldier's mouth moved back and forth as he tried to find something to say that wouldn't aggravate the Alpha even more, he took a deep breath,
"She put up a fierce fight, but there was something out there in the woods"
Darkota balled his fists,
"So, you mean to tell me that all of you, with wolves, weapons, and numbers, let one woman slip through your grasp?" he said,his tone fell to one of frightening calm, and each word sounded like a blow.
Neither of them dared look him in the eye, the silence dragged on, growing thicker with each heartbeat,
"Find her! Bring her back to me, dead or alive! I want no excuses, no failures" he barked at them.
They bowed their heads in respect and nodded before hurriedly leaving his sight, their relief evident. Darkota's scowl stayed on the doors as they closed, his annoyance brewing beneath his calm exterior when he was by himself.
He got off the throne and took a deep breath. As he moved along the broad hallway, his heavy footsteps reverberated throughout the room, he nodded curtly to the guards who saluted him as he went by.
All around him was the magnificence of the Silverveil, with its stone walls carved with legends of former Alphas and tapestries showing victories and defeats in combat. A nagging emptiness, however, gnawed at Darkota during this spectacular display of might.
He waved his attendants away as soon as he entered his chamber and made his way to the balcony. The dark room was filled with pale moonlight, which created dancing shadows on the walls. It was cold, but he hardly noticed it as he looked out over the expanse of his country.
"Darkota" His spine tingled as a faint but distinct murmur drifted through the room. His heart roared as he whirled around, there was nobody in the room. That voice, however, was clear and familiar in a way that evoked long-forgotten memories.
He believed it to be a mental trick, a result of stress and relentless stress. But the air felt heavy and charged, as though something were present but invisible.
In an attempt to get rid of the sensation, he shook his head and walked over to his table. His mind drifted back to the forest and the failures of the night as he picked up a book and flipped through the pages.
The smallest hint of a figure reflecting in the window glass caught his attention as a shadow flashed in the corner of his eye and he looked up quickly. He could see a dark, shadowed form next to his own in the faint reflection, he turned, his heart pounding, but no one was there.
This isn't possible, he had given up all he previously valued and won everything he had battled for, but now he was plagued by shadows.
"Did you truly believe you could change the past, Darkota?" The voice came back, clearer now, with a tone that lured him and condemned him at the same moment. The scars along his knuckles stretched taut as he squeezed his hands.
He had seized the crown from those who were incapable of holding it, and kept it for himself. Anyone who attempted to challenge his assertion had been silenced by him, but now that he was in his own chambers, ruling his own country, he felt the oppressive weight of that darkness weighing down on him.
"Show yourself" he growled, his voice filling the silent room. The only response was the howl of a wolf in the distance, which could be heard well beyond the palace's gates. He glanced back to the balcony, his muscles still clenched as he breathed,
"Or have I gone mad?" he whispered to himself.
In the distance, the moonlight illuminated a gloomy expanse of the woods. Out there, his men would be searching every square inch for Amaya, the one who had dared escape him.
She had served as nothing more than a pawn, a stepping stone to solidify his legacy and guarantee his authority. He had dismissed her without hesitation, wasting her trust and commitment on himself, but she had managed to get away in spite of everything.
She was his one loose thread and the only reminder that the tides could change, and his position, taken from him.
"Darkota…" the voice called again, it was no longer a whisper, but a low, resonant call that filled every corner of the room.