Damien had always had dreams.
He had always had dreams about a woman.
He always saw her in his dreams.
She was always beautiful in them but she was not whom he wanted to see.
He desired Freya, the Omega daughter of his father's friend who had died while defending their pack against a Vampire attack once.
She was strong, stronger than most men of the pack.
She did not dress like a female nor carry herself like one, instead she always trained to be better than others and even him.
No one had ever been able to beat her, she was their teacher, she taught him and the other growing pack members how to fight with their physical strength, as well as how to use their claws and fangs against their opponents.
She was also the one who helped them discover how to make use and control their speed and agility.
She taught them alot and he has found himself falling for her.
But he couldn't say it. His father wouldn't let it be because the Moon Goddess was the one who gave Werewolves their mates, she was the one that made the selections for everyone.
Freya was an omega too. She was one of the least people in the pack that had no ranks. He was the Alpha Heir. If his father died or stepped down, he would be the next in line to lead the pack. This was his lifelong dream.
With the mating rituals coming up, he was skeptical as to whom the Moon Goddess would choose to be his mate. Some others could get to choose whom their mates were, but so was not the case for him. As he was the heir, he has to show every form of humility to the will of the Goddess.
Freya loved the Alpha Heir.
He was one of the reasons why she still stayed back with her father's pack.
She had contemplated running away several times to find her sister who she had heard was alive, but she always stayed back because she was afraid she'd get expelled from the pack and Damien hating her for it.
She was just a year older than him, silently she wished that she would be his mate. If not for anything, for the sake of her patience staying with the pack and for training them.
For always proving her strength and saving the pack against the obnoxious elves who always seemed trouble.
The day of the rituals came.
It was a Sunday in the human realm.
The lair was a chamber of shadows, a whole difference to what it was before. It was dimly lit by flickering candlelight that danced upon the ancient stone walls, skulls and skeletons that hung all around the walls which casted eerie shadows that seemed to sway to an unseen rhythm.
The air was heavy and filled with the scent of incense and other herbs, weaving tendrils of aromatic smoke that curled and twisted in the warm, musty atmosphere.
In the center of the lair, a circular altar stood as the focal point of the ritual space. It was adorned with an array of mystical objects— human eyes that were gorged out of werewolf hunters they had defeated in the past, dried hands of white witches that they had used to conjure up spells to expell them, this depicted their ancient sigils and arcane glyphs.
On the edges of the altar, tall candles of black wax burned steadily, their flames casting a soft, ethereal glow that lent an otherworldly aura to the surroundings.
Hanging from the ceiling were clusters of brass bells, each one delicately engraved with runes and runes, their metallic chimes echoing softly as if whispering secrets of forgotten times. The bells swayed gently in the faint breeze, adding a musical undertone to the ambient sounds of the lair.
They were all bare metals, they were not designed with silver nor good because werewolves hated these and could be killed by inhaling them.
On the walls, shelves and alcoves displayed an assortment of fetishes and totems, animal bones, feathers, crystals, and trinkets imbued with mystical significance.
The atmosphere hummed with anticipation from the Werewolves who waited for the arrival of the Moon Goddess to know their mates, the energy of the space charged with potent magic awaiting activation. The ritual was about to begin, and the lair pulsed with an electric undercurrent of power, drawing upon the elements and energies gathered within its confines.
As the Spirit of the Moon Goddess arrived and prepared to invoke the forces of the unseen realms, the candles flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to dance and writhe in response to the impending ritual. The bells chimed softly, adding their voices to the symphony of arcane sounds, while the fetishes and symbols pulsed with an ethereal glow, signaling the convergence of the mundane and the mystical in the sacred space of the lair.
She began to dance. This was her way of communicating with the Oracle's.
She danced and danced with white clothings that were sweeping the floor until she fell and in a blink of an eye, all of the candleligts went off.
Lunar tattoos began to glow and each werewolf identified with the other that carried their same symbolic markings.
Howls could be heard as the werewolves that had chosen mates connected to their partners.
It lasted on and on for a while till it stopped and the candleligts came back on.
Everyone turned to stare at the heir who stood alone.
He had no mate.
Their gaze turns to the Moon Goddess, seeking for an answer.
"On the night of the full moon, you shall get your mate. And then you just find her. Your mate. She would have a crescent moon shaped birthmark"
The Moon Goddess said.
" Freya, you have to help him find her because only you can help him do so" she continued.
" We need to find her. She is our lost bloodline, we need to find her before our enemies do" she completed.
Freya looked at her with hate and bottled anger.
She could not answer nor could she question her as no one has ever dared to. Everyone followed her prophecies with total subordination.
She felt betrayed, deep within her.
A bitter taste of resentment lingered in her heart but she could not show it. She was insignificant anyway m she was just an Omega.
As she gazed at Damien, the Alpha Heir whom she had silently always admired and trained alongside for years, a sense of betrayal hit at her soul. The Moon Goddess's decree had placed a burden upon her shoulders, one that she hadn't anticipated nor desired. She was to help him find his mate, a mate that wasn't her, despite her unspoken yearning for him that had gone on for years.
Damien's eyes lingered on Freya, his heart heavy with unspoken feelings. As he looked at her, he seemed to sense the uneasiness within her, the conflicting feelings that mirrored his own.
He had just come to realize that she was not his destined mate, despite the silent love he harbored for her for so long.
Sadness crept into Damien's expression, an action that reflected his realization that their paths were not meant to intertwine in the way he had hoped. He had admired Freya's strength, her courage, and her unwavering dedication to their pack. She was more than just a fellow werewolf; she was his mentor, his confidante, and a beacon of resilience in the face of adversity.
For years, Damien had kept his feelings for Freya hidden, buried beneath the responsibilities of his role as the Alpha Heir and the expectations placed upon him by the pack. He had watched her train tirelessly, witnessed her prowess in combat, and admired the fire in her eyes as she faced every challenge head-on.
But now, as the truth of the Moon Goddess's prophecy sank in, Damien felt a pang of regret. Regret for not speaking up sooner, for not expressing his feelings when he had the chance. For not telling her before the ritual of the mate seeking had taken place.
Perhaps if he had told her, even though she might reject him, at least for a short while, he could have experienced what it was to be with one's true love.
But he never did. Fear never let him.
Freya watched on as the werewolves that were mated with partners celebrated as they left the lair in groups.
She waited behind.
If she couldn't question the Moon Goddess in the presence of others, threatening her could solve the problem then. She thought.