Both Packs and Clans lived in constant fear of being hunted, as large gatherings made them easy targets. Consequently, they formed small groups, never exceeding twenty members, blending in with humans while hiding their true selves.
Survival depended on secrecy, and their deception was so masterful that only a select few trusted humans were privy to their existence.
Some of these humans acted as emissaries or druids, while a rare few served as slaves.
Regardless of their roles, all were committed to protecting the supernatural world, driven by loyalty or fear of what the hunters might do if they discovered the truth.
In this delicate balance, the Werewolves and Phoenicians took on the mantle of protectors—the Justifiers. In cities big and small, a Phoenician clan and a Werewolf pack worked together to guard against supernatural threats unnoticed by ordinary humans.
Their existence was governed by a set of alliances and treaties, centered around two cardinal rules:
1. Never reveal your true identity—especially to humans.
2. Never harm humanity; their protection is paramount.
Under these guidelines, every wolf and phoenix tried their best to lead fulfilling lives. They poured their hearts into it.
Gregory's mother, however, broke the mold of a traditional phoenix. A powerful druid among humans, Ninah skillfully maintained the sanity and safety of the FireWing clan throughout the manic phases of the red moon.
With only twenty fire phoenixes to watch over, she felt equipped to handle the challenge—her husband Plutonic had secured their family a beautiful mansion, and they were a tight-knit group. No clan could boast a better druid.
Ninah cared deeply for her clan, never voicing complaints, even as
Plutonic became increasingly absorbed in his own work, leaving her to manage clan affairs on her own. He hardly spent time with her, and even less with their son, Gregory.
Loneliness crept into her heart, but she brushed it aside. After all, he was the clan leader, and she reminded herself of his responsibilities.
One dinner evening, Gregory's innocent question cut through her façade. "Why does Daddy work so hard, Mommy?"
"Because he wants to buy you all the activity books you love," Ninah replied with a fragile smile, attempting to mask the sadness spiraling within her.
"I miss him," Gregory pouted. Ninah mirrored his sentiment internally, hating the nights spent alone in a cold bed devoid of his warmth. She had fought to suppress her tears but felt them building—a burden she bore alone for the sake of the clan.
"Daddy should always be with Mommy. I want to see him!" Gregory insisted.
What could she say to that? She longed for his presence, too. The responsibility was overwhelming; their ancestors had worked hard to ensure that future generations thrived. Yet, Plutonic seemed driven to accumulate wealth beyond necessity.
None of the other clan adults worked, not out of obligation but because they had sufficient resources to last several lifetimes.
They simply watched Plutonic's obsessive quest unfold in uncertainty, opting not to investigate further.
Today was no different from the rest.
"Gregory, why don't you participate in some fun?" Ninah suggested gently, though her smile was strained. He reluctantly excused himself from the table, ultimately retreating to his room to cry himself to sleep.
His muffled sobs filled the house, a melancholic echo of their collective grief.
One by one, the others excused themselves, seeking refuge from the overwhelming sorrow permeating the air.
The clan, once a united front, felt increasingly fractured. They had all sensed it—the tightening grip of despair as Plutonic's absence grew heavier.
They resorted to practicing combat skills and flying together, yet the joy and laughter that once filled their time had vanished.
They no longer endeavored to revive the past; instead, they accepted the grim reality of their existence and the fact that their leader remained oblivious to their plight.
"You should go to his office and bring him back to us," Amina, Ninah's closest friend, finally suggested after everyone else had departed.
She stayed behind to help with the dishes, her understanding gaze piercing through Ninah's placid exterior.
"You miss him, don't you?" Amina probed gently.
"We all do," Ninah responded resolutely, though her mask hid the turmoil within.
"Then speak to him. Why is he working so hard?" Amina questioned, exasperation creeping into her tone. "Does he even know that there's a meeting with the Werewolf pack next week?"
Of course, Ninah hadn't forgotten. The Werewolf pack patrolled the northern and western districts while the FireWing Clan governed the southern and eastern realms.
Their monthly meetings were crucial for maintaining alliances and addressing threats.
"Ninah, he missed the last meeting. If he doesn't show up again, the Werewolves will be furious. You know we can't afford to lose their support!" Amina's anxiety was palpable, intensifying Ninah's own dread.
"I'll do my best," Ninah sighed, exhaustion washing over her. All she yearned for was to cuddle her son Gregory, to envelop him in warmth and love until his heart felt light again.
"Make it happen," Amina urged fiercely. "We're counting on you; you are our hope!"
As Amina departed, Ninah felt the weight of her friend's words press heavily upon her.
Did no one see her struggle? Did they not recognize her own heartache?
She missed Plutonic more than she could articulate—the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his laughter, the comfort of their shared moments.
The absence settled around her like a shroud, and the burden of pretending became insurmountable.
With a shaky gasp, she released the towel she held, allowing her grief to pour forth in loud, uncontrollable sobs. Wasn't she human, too? Did she not have feelings?
The exhaustion of feigning strength overwhelmed her, and she cried without concern for those around her, seeking some form of release for the heavy sorrow lodged deep within.