Chapter 30
Werewolf Realm – Red Moon Pack
Alpha Levi's POV
News travels fast across the werewolf realm, but tragedy travels even faster.
When word reached the Red Moon Pack that Alpha Draven had fallen in battle, a trembling silence rippled through our territory. Draven was not just a strong Alpha — he was one of the pillars of our world. If monsters could bring him down, what hope did the rest of us have?
The whispers spread like wildfire.
"The White Moon Alpha is dead."
"The creatures tore through their northern wall."
"Even Alpha Draven couldn't survive."
Fear crept into the hearts of my pack members. Mothers pulled their pups closer. Warriors sharpened their weapons twice as long. Even the elders, who had lived through decades of hardship, looked shaken. When a titan falls, the ground quakes beneath everyone.
By evening, an urgent letter arrived — a summons to all Alphas across the twelve remaining packs. Whether they had already been attacked or were on the brink of attack, every leader was commanded to gather at the White Moon Pack immediately.
War was no longer a rumor.
It was here.
---
The Meeting of the Twelve
The once-vibrant White Moon Pack felt hollow when we arrived. Without an Alpha, the pack had no central heartbeat. The Beta struggled to stay composed as he welcomed us, his eyes shadowed with grief.
The twelve of us gathered in the great hall, each seated around a long stone table. The air was heavy, not just with loss, but with the weight of unspoken fears.
Draven had died without a mate and without an heir. His younger sister, Penelope, had disappeared recently after rejecting the political pressure of leadership. The Beta explained they would search for her after the war, but none of us cared about succession at that moment.
Survival mattered more than bloodlines.
The first to speak was Alpha Grant of the Silver Crest Pack — the one who had lost his son, Axel, during their attack.
His voice echoed with controlled fury and grief.
"These creatures… whatever they are… they are not acting randomly. Their aim is to destroy the werewolves. They attack with monstrous strength, impossible speed, and regeneration abilities that are nothing short of terrifying. Eight of our twelve packs have suffered casualties. And if we remain divided, the rest will fall."
Murmurs of agreement rose around the table — until I stood.
"They are not just creatures," I said, my voice firm. "They are demons."
The hall froze. Warriors near the walls stiffened. Even the torches seemed to flicker at the word.
I continued, "They have existed longer than our histories record. They answer to only one ruler — one ancient being."
Someone whispered, "A demon king…?"
"Not exactly," I replied. "Their master is a vampire."
Shock spread through the room like lightning.
"Vampire? That cannot be. Those stories are myths!"
"Another realm? Impossible."
"Alpha Levi, explain yourself!"
I raised my hands slightly, calming them.
"This war did not begin with us. It began because of something our ancestors did — something unforgivable. And now the one we wronged has awakened. His revenge is aimed at our entire race."
---
The History They Never Told Us
I told them everything the Living Book had revealed to me so far — though even I had not reached its final chapters.
"In the beginning, there were four realms: the Witches, the Elves, the Vampires, and us — the Werewolves. For a time, these realms coexisted in harmony. But there was always tension between the vampires and werewolves."
Many nodded; those tensions were well-known in legends.
"But then something happened," I continued. "Something involving the Elven Realm, a terrible accusation, and a war that spiraled far out of control."
I hesitated. How could I say this? How could I tell twelve Alphas that our ancestors were the villains of the story?
Still… the truth was necessary.
"Our ancestors killed the wife of the vampire ruler — the only woman he ever loved — after he was falsely accused of a crime he didn't commit. He was innocent. And yet the werewolves, already hostile toward the vampires, murdered his wife in cold blood simply because she loved a man our ancestors despised."
A heavy silence fell. Some gasped. Others lowered their heads in shame.
Alpha Grant whispered, "They … did that?"
"Yes," I answered. "And because of that cruelty, the vampire king — Roosevelt — went mad with grief. He unleashed demons upon our realm and slaughtered thousands. The only reason we survived was because someone, somehow, sealed him away in a forced slumber."
"So how is he alive now?" another Alpha asked quietly. "That was millions of years ago."
"I don't know," I admitted. "Not yet. The Living Book said he was sealed, but not by who, or how, or why the seal has broken. But one thing is certain — Roosevelt is awake. And he wants revenge."
"And that's why we need Aliies, from another realm."
Alpha Rowan of the Nightclaw Pack leaned forward. "Sure we need allies, but another realm?"
"Yes," I said. "We cannot fight thousands of demons alone. My pack contacted beings strong enough to stand against them — the Elves."
A wave of confusion passed through the room.
"Elves?"
"As in… magic elves?"
"They're real?"
"Yes. And they are powerful," I said. "More powerful than any Alpha or warrior here — especially their royals. According to the Living Book, they were once mediators among the realms. If anyone can help us put Roosevelt back to sleep, it's them."
Alpha Rowan asked, "And they agreed to help?"
"They will send word soon. Once I receive their message, I will summon all of you again so we can speak with them directly. Until then, we prepare."
The hall was silent for a long moment. No one argued. No one denied the truth. Fear was present — but beneath it, determination began to take shape.
"For once," I said quietly, "we must fight not as twelve packs, but as one realm. No rivalries. No disputes. Only unity."
One of the younger Alphas murmured, "It's ironic… it took the threat of extinction to make us finally stand together."
"Better late than never," another answered.
We discussed strategies, shared information, arranged emergency signal systems between neighboring packs, and established wartime alliances. If one pack was attacked again, the two nearest packs were to reinforce them immediately.
As we spoke, I noticed something shift in the room — a rare moment of true unity.
We were no longer twelve leaders.
We were the last barrier between the demons and extinction.
When the meeting finally ended, everyone prepared to return to their packs. Before leaving, I announced:
"When the Elven Realm responds, I will summon all of you again. Until then, remain vigilant. Strengthen your borders. Train your warriors. And trust no shadow."
They nodded in agreement, each stepping out of the hall with grim determination.
For the first time since the attacks began, I felt something new.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But resolve.
The werewolves would not vanish quietly.
Not while I still breathed.