~~ANIKA VALERION~~
THE ECLIPSE PACK
“Don’t go, Anika. Just stay back home, with me,” Nana pleaded for the tenth time.
I grabbed my linen dress and rushed to the mirror. But the moment I turned my back, I heard the door click shut behind me.
I whirled around. “Nana? What are you doing? Open the door!” I screamed, rattling the handle frantically.
“It’s for your own good, Anika,” she whispered, her words laced with unexplained fear.
“No. It’s not. It’ll only be for my good if I attend the ceremony!”
“You won’t understand, Ani, but please, trust me!” Her voice trembled through the wood.
“Why? Give me a reason!” I screamed, pounding on the door.
Panic curled tightly in my chest. I’d spent my entire life being branded a "wolfless freak" because I showed none of the early signs of a wolf.
At sixteen, while other kids could track scents from miles away and hear whispers carried on the wind, I stayed the same.
Their cuts and bruises healed within minutes. They talked about a second heartbeat pounding beneath their ribs. I felt nothing.
I hadn’t waited eighteen years just to turn back now.
“Grandma!” I called again, expecting an answer. Instead, I only heard footsteps fading away.
As much as I wanted to grant her request, I couldn't stay behind.
I scanned the small room, my eyes landing on the window.
I slipped on my dress and shoved the window frame open. I’m small, so squeezing through the tight gap was easy. I tumbled into the dirt outside, and the instant my feet hit the ground, I ran. Waving off the guilt clawing at my chest, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
The Transition Ceremony had been a tradition in our pack for decades. On this night, unturned teen wolves gathered in the square with their families, waiting in tense silence for the precise moment the moon reached its peak. When it did, the surge of lunar energy would awaken whatever lay dormant in their blood.
If a wolf spirit existed, it clawed its way to the surface, rebirthing them as something new.
And tonight… I have to experience this—to show them that I have value of my own.
“I’m normal. I will transition today. Just like the others,” I muttered to myself, clutching the hope like a lifeline.
I sprinted toward the square. The roar of the pack grew deafening with every step. By the time I arrived, the grounds were packed. Dozens of teens stood in the center.
To the sides, families gathered in circles, waiting to witness their loved ones’ first transition.
I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat. I was the only one standing alone.
Nana wasn’t here. She should have been standing in the circle with me.
I inhaled sharply, trying to calm myself. It barely worked.
Still, I couldn't stay hiding forever.
Forcing my shaking hands to steady, I smoothed the front of my linen dress and stepped toward the transition line, feigning a readiness I didn't feel to join my peers.
But before I could take my place, I heard approaching footsteps and a sharp, mocking laugh that grated against my nerves like broken glass.
I didn't even have to look up to know who they were.
Joana stepped directly into my path, her arms folded across her chest. She looked pristine, her silk gown shimmering in the torchlight—a cruel contrast to my rough linen.
I met her gaze—and she smiled, the kind a predator gives before tearing into a rabbit.
“Oh?” Her eyes widened in exaggerated surprise as they swept over me, lingering on the frayed hem of my skirt. She reached out and pinched the fabric with two manicured fingers.
“Such a... brave choice of dress.”
My fingers tightened at my sides.
She dropped the fabric and wiped her fingers on her own dress, clicking her tongue in pity. “Did your Nana stitch this for you? What a shame, really.” Her smile vanished, replaced by a sneer. “All that effort... just to look like trash. I thought I told you to stay in your hole, you little rat.”
“Everyone has to be here,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Joana laughed, a short, cutting sound. “Oh, sweetheart. Not everyone.”
She stepped closer, invading my personal space until her perfume—cloying roses and rot—flooded my lungs.
“Look around you, Anika. We are the future of this pack. We are predators. But you?” She leaned down to whisper in my ear. “You are just prey waiting to be eaten. When the rest of us shift and you’re left standing there like a stain the Moon forgot to wipe away—do try not to make a scene. It ruins the aesthetic.”
Something in me snapped. Years of swallowing her poison finally boiled over.
“I have every right to be here,” I said, lifting my chin. My voice trembled—not from fear, but from the sheer force of years of suppressed rage finally breaking through. “And I’m done letting a spoiled brat decide what I’m worth.”
The air went still. The whispers around us died down.
For the first time, Joana’s porcelain mask of perfection shattered. Her smile faltered—then curdled into something grotesque.
“What did you just say to me, you pathetic stray?” she hissed, the sound vibrating with burning rage.
Her hand whipped up, a blur of lethal speed aiming straight for my face—
“Silence.”
A deep, baritone voice cut through the chaos of the square.
Joana’s hand froze inches from my skin, her entire body locking up.
My heart skipped a beat. I looked toward the high ledge at the farther end of the square.
A figure stepped out first—not Alpha Marcus, but someone who commanded the air just as effortlessly.
He was tall, with a lean, predator-like build that made him tower over everyone else. His dark hair fell in waves around his shoulders, wild and untamed. Unlike the others in stiff ceremonial robes, he wore casual clothes, looking bored out of his mind.
"Alpha Marcus Mortain," he announced simply. His tone was flat, detached, as if this sacred ritual were nothing more than a tedious chore he had to endure.
Only then did our Alpha Marcus step forward, acknowledging the bowing crowd. But I still couldn't tear my eyes away from the young man who had spoken.
Xander Mortain. The Cold-Blooded Heir.
He didn't look at the cheering crowd. His gaze was fixed right in our direction—utterly expressionless—I guess that was probably because he was unhappy about the scene that had just unfolded here.
Beside me, I heard a sharp intake of breath. Joana quickly smoothed her hair and pushed her chest out to make herself more noticeable, her eyes practically glowing with adoration.
"You’d be the perfect Luna for him, Joana," one of her minions whispered dreamily, loud enough for me to hear. “Look at him. He just screams power.”
Joana huffed, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Naturally. I’m certain he’ll fall in love with me the moment I shift. A man like that needs a strong wolf, not... whatever that is." She cast a disdainful glance at me.
"Remember, I'm only sparing you today because I'm the one destined to stand by his side as Luna. I won't lower myself to deal with someone like you." With a dismissive scoff, she turned her hungry gaze back to the ledge.
On the platform, Xander leaned back against a pillar, his indifference palpable. His gaze began to scan the line of teenagers waiting to shift. It was a sweeping, dismissive look—until it stopped.
"OMG, he's looking at me," Joana gasped, clutching her minion's arm, her face flushing with excitement. "I told you! He can't take his eyes off me!"
Joana was preening, waving slightly. But I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
Xander’s eyes weren't on her.
They were locked onto mine.