The great Moon hung yellow above the starlit sky. The huge feast, savory and sweet, was now awaiting everyone's drooling mouths.
Everyone was having a good time, congratulating Knight's father for winning the most coveted Night Howler. The hall was swelling with pride and delight. It was important for his father to win the tournament because it did not just mean that their pack was the strongest.
It also, and most importantly, meant that they would guard the precious Night Howler for thirteen years to come. It was, after all, the most sacred artifact of their kind in the world of Quailsham.
Every Werebeast, every nighttime, had been told about the Legends of the Whistling Bone, the Caller of the Wild Beast. And therefore to guard it, even above their lives, was not just an honor but a badge of immense strength and absolute power. And for Werebeasts, strength was the ultimate aspiration.
"Why are you already standing, Sin? You should be in bed until you no longer need to. You must rest so your wounds and bruises will heal faster." There was a pause. "Is there anything bothering you, my son?"
Knight's lovely mother had a stern but caring look on her face. His heart melted when he saw how tired she was.
His mother was young, ever beautiful, and endlessly kind. He knew all his life that she deserved everything this world had in store. But she had been given nothing but heartaches.
"Mother…" he called softly.
Knight almost resembled his mother, as if she had made him alone. They had the same ink-black hair, dark swirling eyes, and rose-tinted lips. Only their skin was different, but that was due to his circumstances.
While Knight's mother was fair and flawless, Knight was tanned. He also had broader features, with bony cheeks and jaws, courtesy of his father. His mother was akin to fragile and soft flowers, and his father to stones and blades.
It was probably the reason why Lumellyana was mad whenever she saw him. Because Knight reminded her of Agoncilla.
Knight soon reached for Andra, his mother's, dirty hands.
The nearby candles were enough to glimpse them even within the dim chamber. It smelled like mud after the rain had just fallen to melt the lands of the far Northeast.
Knight's eyebrows furrowed. "Did Lumellyana order you again to gather the mud from Mount Cristo?"
His apparent anger was rising faster than he could control.
Andra hushed her son. "Don't cry for me, my son. Be light for me…" She wiped with her shivering fingers the warm tears that had fallen from Knight's gleaming eyes.
His mother closed the wooden windows and led Knight back to his bed. They sat side by side in silence, and soon she tended to his wounds.
Werebeasts could heal at will. They did not require any herbs, rituals, healers, or events to do so. But because Knight did not have his Wolf yet, his healing was slower than that of others his age.
Knight scoffed as he inhaled the rotten-smelling herb. His healing ability might seem slow and weak compared to other Werebeasts, but his senses were on a different level. He could hear things others couldn't, and he could see far beyond the horizon, even to the stars.
At first, he genuinely admired his unique ability. Finally, he had something different that his father would be proud of. Or so he had thought. But then his father was more disappointed to learn that Knight did not have the skill to filter his senses.
Knight was not discouraged, though. He knew he could master it like everyone else if he practiced deliberately.
"But mother," Knight argued, trying to pull his wrist from her. "You're not a servant. Why would they dare to order you?"
"It's better this way," said Andra firmly, smiling at him albeit faintly. "Lumellyana has been good to us. She did not throw us away even if she could. It's enough. This is just a very small price to pay."
Knight suddenly stood up, releasing his frustration. "And why must you pay for having me? It is and will never be your fault that the Alpha chose you." He stopped abruptly, unable to say it.
He might be competently strong, yes, but he was not yet ready to say the word he knew his mother hated. So instead, he just cried and fell into his mother's warm and tender embrace.
He cried not for himself, but for her, with her. He cried for her pain, for her suffering. He cried as if she were still carrying him inside, as if he were her emotions, her truth.
"This is why you must wait for her, Sin…" Andra softly ran her fingers through his hair. "You must wait for your Mate, your Fate, no matter how long it takes."
His mother's eyes sparkled with brimming tears, but she held herself back.
"Do not marry someone just because you are required to. Do not, and never use a lady as though she is nothing but a mere tool to elevate your pack's rank. Never be swayed by the Elder's words, nor the crowd's noises. Do not follow your father's footsteps. Just follow that, your heart. It's already set the way for you toward her. Promise me, Knight Sin. You promise."
Knight immediately nodded. Although it was merely implied, he knew to himself that he would never do what his father had done. He would never be with someone just because their pack needed an heir while his Mate was still nowhere to be found, or unfortunately, dead.
He would wait for her, his soulmate. No matter how long it took. No matter what it took. He would never have anyone else other than what the Almighty of Heavens desired for him.
"But…" Knight couldn't help but think. "What if she doesn't like me?"
It was a shame to ask his mother such a thing. But ever since he had learned about Mates, he dreaded the possibility that his Mate might not want him the way he did. He was certain he would love her unconditionally.
Yes, he was the Heir of their clan. He was the next Alpha of the East of Elderwood. But often his father said he was weak, that he was nothing and unworthy, and that he regretted ever having him as his son.
Andra chuckled, as sweet as the morning sun. "Getting nervous this early? You're yet to waken your Wolf."
Knight wanted to deny it, that it was a wrong assumption. His father said that a truly honorable man must not and should never be anxious even at the inevitability of Death.
He thought, if only I could rule this heart of mine.
But then his father was not here. So, he nodded shyly, and his sunburned face began to redden.
"No one would ever dare to reject my son." His mother's voice was an anchor that made him forget his fears. "Ignore what others say otherwise. Only listen to me. You're strong, and brave, and most especially you are just and kind. And also, which is of course given, utterly handsome. All women will fall for you. You don't have to bow down. You don't have to do anything. Your blood alone, your destiny speaks for itself."
Knight couldn't help but laugh even at the cost of being heard. The night seemed to deepen because of the apparent silence. It seemed the guardsmen had been wasted and had called it a night.
"You're always making fun of me, mother," he said, smiling at himself, his cheeks puffing. "Why so?"
"But I am not." Andra looked offended, but Knight could see the traces of laughter swelling in her eyes.
Knight's talk with his mother was still short, even if it had been an hour. Lumellyana only allowed them to see each other for that long. Although it was brief, and he was already yearning for more, he already felt better now that he had heard his mother's voice, her sweet laughter, and her contagious smiles.
Also, the assurance that she had given him about his Mate.
The midnight unexpectedly became noisy as daybreak approached. Knight trembled against the chilling caresses of the wind. The windows had opened. He was too lazy to close them and just tried to close his eyes again. But the light between the small gaps in his door haunted him. It knocked on his eyelids like an acquaintance, until he could no longer ignore the brightness.
With a heavy sigh, Knight got out of the bed's warmth. If he couldn't sleep anyway, it was better for him to go back to the banquet to see his mother. Maybe after the feast, or even a taste of beer, he could finally be sleepy then.
When Knight stepped outside, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that seemed to settle abruptly, like a cold, heavy metal pressing down on his gut. It felt weird. He wasn't sure why or what it was, but it was nowhere near positive.
Then, suddenly, as if waking from a nightmare, a sharp cry of horror sliced through the thick silence of the night.
Knight sprinted toward the sound on reflex, his eyes still blurred and limbs still exhausted. He stopped in his tracks when he finally saw what was happening outside the hall.
The once elegant and festive banquet was now in absolute chaos. Plates and dinnerware were scattered everywhere, and people were running in all directions. Raging fires consumed everything in their path.
"Mother!" Knight called, but the word got stuck in his throat when a large boulder swiftly struck his anxious face. His body flew past and landed near a broken table.
"Oh, and what do we have here this very late night?"
A melodious voice found its way to Knight's ringing ears. When he recovered, he tried to stand. But his vision was too slow to clear when a cold, soft finger caressed his cheek.
"Handsome, young boy, it seems," the voice purred like a vixen.
When the fog in his eyes faded, his gaze landed on the woman before him. The very veins in his body stiffened when he realized the woman's fiery red hair.
"Witch…" he breathed.
At the same time, the roaring warhorns were blown in succession, and a hoarse voice shouted, "We are under attack. Witches on sight. We are under attack!"
The beautiful woman smiled mockingly down at him. Before Knight could move to attack, she whispered something, then there was a sudden blinding light, and she flicked a finger at his cheek.
Knight's body flew across the expanse until his back hit a large tree with a thud. The leaves rustled and the branches creaked. The force was enough to earn him a few shattered bones.
"Magic," he murmured.
Knight squinted as his vision danced along with the swirling fires around him. His ears began to ring in silence as screams, laughter, and destruction happened at once. His senses were overwhelmed, affecting him badly.
He tried to stand, but the woman was faster than he had anticipated. She gripped his throat, raising him up and pinning him against the tree with one hand, her sharp nails digging into his skin.
Knight groaned as he swallowed against her tight hold. He twisted and pulled at her hands, but to no avail. She was far stronger than him, which baffled him greatly because he knew witches were not supposed to be physically strong. They were powerful, yes, but in terms of strength, they were the least of concerns.
But she was vastly different. "Trying to escape now, are we?" She smiled sweetly at him, tracing his nose with her free hand.
"They are indeed right," she said in a high-pitched, almost mocking tone. "You wolf beings are pleasing to look at. Just one level ahead of an animal…"
Knight clenched his jaw. "Werebeast," he managed to say.
He was already losing his breath. Her hold on him was getting tighter no matter how much he tried to break free. He was no match for her strength. It felt like he was holding a hard stone in his grasp.
The tree scratched his back. The dark smoke suffocated him. Everything seemed to slow down while his weakening hands clutched the arm that gripped his neck.
He could no longer hear the witch. His heightened hearing was failing him. His lungs were growing tired. That was when he felt it: the looming threat, the inevitable danger, and the depressing weight of death.
Knight smiled.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. The witch was no longer young and beautiful. Her youth seemed to have drained, her hair pale compared to the fire he had seen. And her eyes, black as death, hollow as the void.
Knight now understood why he couldn't defeat the witch's strength no matter how hard he tried. She was using Dark Sorcery, the forbidden art of witchcraft.
Knight's composure relaxed, and the old, wrinkled witch thought it was over, seemingly disappointed. She believed he was done for. Knight's eyes fluttered until they slid shut, and he listened one more time.
The chaotic noise was hard to understand, and Knight was starting to feel hopeless. He couldn't do this if everything was confusing.
He focused one more time and tried his best to hear, to know, to feel. Then his senses returned to normal. The sensitivity was gone, and everything was silent except for the witch's croaked laughter.
Knight could hear her breathing. He could feel her movements and sense her blood flowing. Then, at the right moment, he found it.
Knight sensed the witch move her other hand behind his neck, about to finish him once and for all. Then, swiftly, she moved, and at the same moment, Knight gathered the remaining strength he had and, with precise motion, dug his sharp nails directly against the veins.
She was so surprised by his subtle attack that she staggered, loosening her grip on him immediately.
Knight stood as he fell down. He did not give her a second to react. He kicked her head with his shin and, with a clean snap, brought her down. She fell, shocked, lifeless, with a wide-eyed smile.