The night was suffocating, the sky swirling with dark clouds as the heavy storm raged above. Thunder cracked the air, drowning out the soft cries of a newborn child in the lavish, dimly lit room of the Alpha's mansion. In the midst of the chaos, the world seemed to hold its breath as the moonlight, fierce and silent, slashed through the rain-soaked windows.
Alpha Darius, a man whose icy demeanor could freeze even the most volatile of hearts, stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze fixed on the two infants swaddled in white blankets. Both boys. Both with the red eyes of the Alpha—the mark of greatness, the mark of a future leader. And yet, there was no joy in his eyes. Only cold calculation.
The pack's law was simple and ancient: Twins cannot both live. One must die.
His heart twisted in agony as he looked at the newborn boys. His sons. They were his flesh and blood, but only one could rule. Only one could lead the pack. The other… the other had to be sacrificed.
His hand, trembling ever so slightly, reached out to stroke the face of the boy closest to him. His chosen heir. His future Alpha. His eyes were fierce, the red hue glowing brighter than any other.
The other boy, however, was just a shadow of fate. A future that would never come to pass.
Alpha Darius' jaw clenched, and without hesitation, he made his decision. The weak one must die. The strong must survive.
"Take him," Darius ordered, his voice as cold as the night outside.
The guards, loyal to their Alpha, stepped forward with bowed heads. But there was hesitation in their eyes. They had followed Darius without question for years, but this… this was different. These were children, helpless and innocent. The pack's laws were cruel, but they had always followed them. Now, standing before them, were two innocent souls that should not have to face such a fate.
"Alpha, please…" one of the guards, a younger man, spoke with a voice filled with uncertainty. "He's just a baby…"
"He is a threat to our line," Darius' voice was firm, unwavering. "You will obey my orders, or you will answer to me."
The guards, their hearts heavy with guilt, glanced at each other before slowly approaching the crib. They reached for the boy not chosen, the weaker one. His cries grew louder as they lifted him from the safety of the blanket, their hands trembling with the weight of their actions.
But as they moved to carry the child away, to fulfill their Alpha's order, the storm outside raged louder, as if nature itself was rebelling. The wind howled, and in the blink of an eye, something—or someone—was there.
A figure emerged from the shadows, moving with the grace of an ancient being, his white hair and beard catching the dim light from the lanterns. The old man's eyes, though not as fierce as those of the Alpha, were full of wisdom and sorrow. He was a stranger to the pack, an outcast, but his presence seemed to command respect.
"No," the old man said, his voice a whisper that carried through the storm. "You will not kill this child."
The guards froze, unsure of what to do. The old man's power, though not overt, was undeniable. He had lived long enough to see the cost of such cruel traditions. The weight of his words fell like thunder on the room.
"This child will be taken away from here," the old man continued, his gaze meeting the Alpha's with quiet defiance. "The forest will hide him, and you will never find him. He will be given a life outside your rule."
Darius' face remained unreadable, his fists clenched at his sides. "And if I refuse?"
"You will condemn yourself," the old man replied, his eyes unwavering. "There is no honor in this. Not for you, nor for the pack."
The Alpha's silence was chilling, but his mind raced. Could he truly allow this? Could he let go of the boy, a potential threat to his reign, and leave him to die in the wild? Or would the old man's intervention destroy everything he had worked for?
The guards, now more torn than ever, stepped back, unwilling to oppose the old man. Darius' gaze flickered briefly to the boy—the one he had condemned to die—and then back to the old man, who stood in defiance.
With a final, sharp glance, Darius turned his back, signaling to the guards to let the old man do as he pleased. The weight of the decision settled in his chest. The boy was gone now. There was no turning back.
As the old man carried the infant boy into the pouring rain, disappearing into the forest, the storm seemed to calm, as if the heavens themselves were mourning the loss of a future that would never be.
The Alpha, cold and unyielding, returned to the crib and looked down at the surviving twin. His future Alpha. His son. But in his heart, there was a shadow of doubt, a whisper that perhaps the path he had chosen would come back to haunt him.