They couldn't stand it anymore. If they heard one more grumble from the young lord, the werewolves were sure to go crazy. Ever since they departed from Landia, the young lord had complained non-stop. Sure, it was under his breath but for beings like them with exceptional hearing, it was like talking directly into their ears.

"Um, Lord Dimitri, Father has already accepted this. What is it that makes you so upset?" one of them built the courage to ask. Unfortunately, his fellow brothers couldn't appreciate his enthusiasm because Dimitri's temper was a well-known fact. It was beyond nasty, unbearable was an understatement.

The courageous wolf got his head slammed into a tree, smashing the whole thing to bits. Even with his tough skin, his head still bled. Dimitri Lunaire looked down on the injured wolf-like he was nothing more than a mosquito. No one dared to call him out, being the strongest warrior in their clan.

"Just because Father has agreed doesn't mean you have the right to talk to me anyhow you like. How can trash like you understand when you spend your whole day rotting away in those offices? Have you ever experienced war before?"

His grey eyes bore down on them like a war hammer, one that had been soaked in the blood of many foes.

"We apologize, my lord" two older wolves came forward, bowing. Since they were warriors, Dimitri didn't have any excuse to yell at them. He could only watch, still seething as the wolf was carried away. One could only wonder why the young lord was so angry. The last war was centuries ago, four to be exact.

Dimitri had fought in the war, ensuring victory for the clan, but at the heavy cost of losing so many of his brethren. Many said his grief finally drove him crazy. Only the Father, the leader of the werewolf clan, could understand him.

Tired of traveling so slowly, he clenches the muscles in his powerful hind legs and takes off to the skies, ignoring the calls of his brethren. He knew the location of the clan because of the war. He wanted to get there and get it over with.

The sun dipped on the horizon. The moon slowly peeked its head out as Dimitri finally approached the clan borders. He slowed down and walked towards the gate. He remembered destroying them and rejoicing that they could finally enter the home of their enemies but alas, fate was too cruel, bringing all his glorious plans to shambles.

He stood before those impenetrable gates, glaring at them. The air became turbulent in that area as his aura became more bloodthirsty. He couldn't forget, ever, the cruelty of the war, the bloodshed, the numbing feeling that came after he finally lost everything.

Slowly, his aura calmed. He stood there as if the last few centuries had never happened. He acknowledged his leader, Father, was right. The werewolves were just as much at fault as the vampires were for the war. It was why they had to offer peace. He had to trust in Father. He was all-wise, every wolf in Landia knew that.

The iron gates that formed the barrier between the forest and the land of the vampires slowly opened of their own accord, as if inviting him. Above him, the blood moon set in the sky. It was like some elaborate trap, a beguiling lead just waiting for him to fall. Trusting in his strength that nothing would go wrong, Dimitri entered the land of the vampires.

Little did the young lord know that it was the day his whole life would change. Nothing in the past or present would change what fate had in store for him.