The dense forest swallowed the last vestiges of twilight, plunging Archer's company into a profound, star-dusted darkness. Fifty soldiers strong, they moved with the practiced quiet of seasoned warriors, a low rumble of conversation and the soft pad of paws the only sounds disturbing the primeval hush. Some had shed their human skin for the more efficient wolf forms, their eyes glinting like amber embers in the gloom, while others, equally at home, strode on two legs. Above, the canopy was a jagged silhouette against a sky dusted with a million distant suns, their light barely piercing the thick foliage.
The air grew heavy with the scent of damp earth and pine, a primeval perfume that deepened the eerie silence of the late night. Not even the rustle of leaves or the chirping of crickets dared to break the spell. Archer, his senses sharpened by years of campaigning, felt the prickle of unease that always accompanied travel through unknown woods after dark. He knew better than to approach the Ghost Moon Pack at such an hour; their sacred time of prayer was not to be interrupted, not if he wanted to preserve the Queen's delicate standing with the reclusive pack. Every action, every perceived slight, could echo through the delicate web of alliances.
Among the ranks, four figures, distinct in their crimson cloaks, walked with a different gravitas. Carly's hood was thrown back, her face serene, eyes fixed on the path ahead. Philip, ever the picture of casual disdain, had one side of his cloak shrugged off a shoulder, revealing a glimpse of fine linen beneath. Marina, by contrast, remained a hooded enigma, only the curve of her lips visible beneath the deep shadow. Marcus, the most reclusive of them all, was a mere silhouette, his cloak pulled tight, every line of his body concealed, his silence a palpable wall against the other wolves.
Finally, Archer raised a hand, and the unit halted with an almost imperceptible ripple. The sudden stillness was profound, broken only by Philip's exasperated sigh. "Finally," he grumbled, his voice low and rich with complaint. "Another night on the cold, hard ground. I swear, a week without a proper bed or a hot bath is enough to drive you mad." He made a show of dusting off his cloak, though there was no dust to be seen. Around them, the preparations for a night's encampment began, quiet and efficient, the ghostly moon just beginning to rise above the distant peaks.
"You, Guardian!" Philip's voice cut through the quiet, laced with open disrespect for Archer's authority. "The Ghost Moon Pack is just a few kilometers away. Why are we sleeping in the dirt?"
Archer's men halted in their duties, their backs stiffening. Eyes burning with vengeance, they shifted venomously towards Philip, none of them holding back their disdain. They were the Queen's Guardians. They owed the Council no protection, no explanation.
"Forgive him," Marina spoke up, her lips, the only thing Archer could see, curving up in a seductive show of contrition. "He rarely leaves the Council."
"Look there!" Archer's gruff tone, still sounding as if he fought to keep his human speech after shifting from wolf form, cut through the exchange.
In the distance, the top of a beautiful tree could be made out, its leaves shimmering in the moonlight. A green so dark it almost looked black, yet the second the wind picked up, and the leaves shifted and danced to the wind's music, they shimmered like gold dust dancing through the air. Every leaf glittered beautifully, a strong call to divinity, to Creation herself. It was the Goddess Tree.
"Wow, I've heard stories," Carly breathed, her voice filled with reverence. She was unsure how anyone could not stop and look in still silence and admiration when seeing something so pure and beautiful, a gift to all wolf-kind.
Under his cloak, Marcus could see the tree. He had been to the Ghost Moon Pack before. He knew of the pack's fanaticism. They were right to stop for the evening. If there was one thing a fanatic hated, it was a ritual disturbed.
"They praise our God at night. It isn't something to be interrupted for a soft bed," Archer said, explaining it in the way he would speak to a child. He didn't understand how someone on the Council could not know something so basic. Turning away from Philip, he settled by the fire his men had already started. He hoped the other fifty were getting along better than him, as they had chosen to split up amongst the two Council parties. No matter what, they were there to protect the Queen from all things.
Philip leaned against the nearest tree, uncaring of Archer and anything else he had to say. Some people were just so beastly; they forgot they had a human side too. And his human skin desired more comfort.
"This is not your side of the world. I would warn you to behave yourself. No one knows you here!" The words felt like a slap to Philip's face.
He knew this was Carly and Marcus's territories to govern in the Queen's absence. What he wasn't unknown. Marcus didn't cover his area, but there wasn't a wolf alive that didn't know who he was. It didn't matter; Archer had just found a way to call him forgettable.
He would get to the Queen first. He would be the one to swivel her head left to right. He would be her confidant and her puppet master. And once he was, he'd find a way to get Marcus off the Council. It was time for new blood.
Marina didn't worry about the squabbling men. She was here to add an extra pillar to Carly's strength. It was important that Marcus didn't take over. Once they were all forced back to their own territories, unless they were at the Council House, she only had a limited amount of time to steer Carly in the correct direction.
The pre-dawn chill still clung to the air, but the scent of pine was now overlaid with the lingering residue of woodsmoke. Around the camp, a flurry of efficient activity had already begun. Tents were collapsing into compact bundles, sleeping bags rolled tight, and the last embers of the previous night's fires were being methodically doused. The fifty warriors, well-rested despite the hard ground, moved with the practiced synchronization of a seasoned unit, their gear swiftly packed and ready for the final leg of their journey. The four Council members, their crimson cloaks a vibrant splash against the forest's muted tones, were also prepared, standing a little apart from the main group.
A moment later, Philip emerged from deeper within the trees, zipping up his fly with a bright, charming smile that managed to be anything but. He strode towards the waiting party, seemingly oblivious to the lack of appreciation for his good cheer. Just as he rejoined them, a sound ripped through the quiet morning—a long, drawn-out chorus of howls echoing through the forest. It was a sound of unmistakable alert, a warning, not of distress, but of impending confrontation. A large group of wolves was nearing the Ghost Moon Pack, and the pack was bracing for what could be an invasion.
Within the heart of the Ghost Moon territory, High Priestess Nikki and Alpha Norton stood at the ready. Norton, a formidable presence, wore a blue cloak over a set of black armor, while Nikki, the pack's spiritual leader, was clad in a lighter shade of blue cloak with white armor gleaming beneath. Around them, the pack's warriors, dressed in similar white-armored blue cloaks, formed a disciplined line, their gazes fixed on the encroaching forest.
Suddenly, a mental voice, urgent and clear, resonated in their minds. It was one of their scouts. "Priestess, Alpha! It's the Council. The red cloaks. They're approaching." The tension that had coiled within the pack began to unwind, replaced by a different kind of anticipation.
As Archer's large company emerged from the treeline, they stepped into a clearing dominated by an ancient, awe-inspiring Tree. Its immense bark, a grayish-white in the morning light, seemed to absorb all sound. Between the plates of its bark, a black sap wept, appearing stark against the pale wood, but as the sunlight touched it, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of gold danced within. The roots of the tree, thick and gnarled, protruded outwards for what seemed like kilometers, anchoring it to the very earth itself. Its towering height reached impossibly high into the sky, its dark green leaves, almost black against the blue, shimmering with gold when the wind stirred them.
The entire tree exuded an ancient, reverent feeling, a profound sense of history and ritual. It was more than just a tree; it was the veil between the Ghost Moon Pack and their Goddess, a living testament to their faith and their lineage.
"You are welcome to the Ghost Moon Pack, Honorable Council members," Alpha Norton spoke, clear and decisively. His tone was neutral.
Philip found himself at a loss for this Alpha's lack of decorum. It was expected that all Alphas would bow their heads respectfully to the Council, as they held a higher position and far more strength than any Alpha. It was a disgrace, one that Philip was having a hard time overlooking.
Carly wasn't sure how to respond. The Ghost Moon Pack was under Marcus's purview. She wasn't sure the kind of relaxed relationship he had with his packs. Knowing how stringent, strict, and unrelenting he was, she never would have guessed he had a more casual, non-formal relationship with the packs that he oversaw.
Unbothered, Marina didn't reply to the Alpha's obvious disrespect. Looking to the Priestess, she smiled softly. "You're the High Priestess." Marina could tell by the color of her cloak and the armor beneath. The fact that, of everyone there, she could stand almost next to the Alpha showed her high position. Even the Beta was just a step behind her, showing how religious this pack was.
"I am, Councilmember." Nikki knew that their Alpha's lack of acknowledgment of their titles was something that would bother them. But it was the way of the Ghost Moon Pack. They bowed to no Queen, no Council, no wolf. The only person they bowed to was Nyx herself, and the gift of the Holy Tree she left behind.
In a show of acknowledgment, Nikki greeted the Councilwoman as she would anyone in the pack with respect. She touched the back of her hand to her forehead before bringing it to her chest, palm facing the sky. "I welcome you." Her voice was ethereal, like silk brushing the cheek, a melody echoing around them before it ever reached their ears, a ghostly whisper.
"What brings you to the heart of the Goddess, Marcus?"
Even though all of the Council members had their cloaks properly positioned and their faces mostly hidden, Norton could spot Marcus's frigid form from anywhere. His subtle disapproval seeped off his skin like its own perfume.
Marcus didn't worry about his words getting out. He was sure the more cunning packs would already have their spies alerting them of the Council's odd actions. So he was direct.
"A new Queen is emerging. We must test all of your women to see if the new Queen is here."
A chorus of joy and elation perfumed their surrounding areas. Some, so overjoyed, dropped to their knees, their foreheads pressed to the earth as they prayed in reverence of the Queen. While others prayed to Nyx for blessing them with a new Queen after so long.
Nikki felt her heart swell with joy. Another gift from their goddess. She closed her eyes, savoring the words, the moment, the opportunity for a new Queen. Someone directly touched by the Queen. Another gift. She swayed with the rhythm of the wind, feeling as if she was in sync with nature.
"You bring blessed news, Marcus. We must pray. Give thanks. Speak to the Goddess."
Marcus sighed inwardly but chose to keep the sound to himself. He wasn't shocked by this. Annoyed, of course, but not shocked. They were fanatics, after all. As much as he wanted to expand his influence over the entirety of the North American hemisphere, this was one of the few packs he wouldn't mind getting rid of. They were always a challenge to deal with. Everything was on their own fanatical timeline.
"The new Queen is a blessing for us all. Would it be proper if I joined you in prayer?" Carly spoke up, pulling her hood off.
Marina used her fingers to cover her lips as if she was just as enamored as Carly. But in truth, she was hiding her smirk. It looked like Carly was far more clever than she gave her credit for. This wasn't even a part of her territory, yet she was earning more respect and reverence here. A Council member that had the respect of territories she did not cover. Clever, clever girl. Just like her mother, veiling it in the guise of the right thing. It was laughable.
"All who believe, with a clean heart, may pray amongst the tree's life and feel the Goddess's gifts."
As Philip surveyed the various priestesses who all seemed to love being on their knees in the grass with their heads buried in the dirt, he had a feeling that he would be spending more time on the cold, dirty ground. The exact thing he wanted to avoid. And now he had to pretend to love it.
"I can't wait to bow in the grass and dirt. How heavenly," Philip tried to have the same enlightened, reverent tone of Carly and Marina. But it sounded a bit too high-pitched, a subtle mockery of their feigned reverence. Luckily, with Nikki's dedication to her cult-like beliefs, he was sure she didn't notice.