DAPHNE
The first thing Father did as soon as the Demon Alpha King declared war on him was take me to his underground fortress in the middle of nowhere, throw me into a dungeon-like room, and lock me up.
That was six moons ago. War had ravaged the whole kingdom, I'd heard from the servants sealed in the fortress with me. We were losing on all fronts, and the Demon Alpha King was very close to destroying us all.
I had never seen this Demon Alpha, but I knew the stories about him. I'd heard he razed entire packs in a single night. These stories claimed that he tore Alphas apart with his bare hands and mounted their heads as warnings.
They said he was not fully wolf, nor fully demon, but something far worse. His warrior wolves were not wolves at all, but monsters born of hellfire and bloodlust. They said villages burned in his wake, and rivers ran red wherever he passed.
They said mercy did not exist in his territory and that when he marked his enemies, their screams echoed for days. They said if he set his sights on us, our fall was inevitable.
It was because of these rumors and stories of all the evil he had wrought on my pack that I was drowning in nightmares each night.
I scoffed, considering how ironic it was that Father was hiding me away when all my life I had borne the responsibility of caring for our pack.
When my mother died, I was still a child, barely old enough to understand loss, yet suddenly old enough to carry the responsibility of a Luna. And now, when my pack needed me most, I was locked away like a fragile, useless thing.
Father said it was for my safety, but I knew better and had accepted my fate a long time ago. If it hadn't been for this war, Father would have shipped me off to the richest or most profitable Alpha he could find as a bride.
I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned as guilt twisted viciously in my chest. My people were dying. My pack was suffering, and I was…
The door slammed open.
I gasped, nearly tipping over my chair. I scrambled, snapping my journal shut and shoving it beneath a pillow just as Alpha Carlos Cloak, Father, strode inside my room.
I smiled tightly and tried to ignore the pounding of my heart against my ribcage. This was the first time I had seen him in months. Yet, instead of looking at his daughter like a father should, his eyes flicked to the ink-stained desk and then to my pillow and remained there.
"What is that?" he demanded.
"N-nothing," I replied, stretching my lips wider. "You look well, Father."
Huffing, he crossed the room in three strides, pushed me out of the way, and ripped the journal from beneath the pillow.
"Father, please—"
His lip curled as he flipped through the pages, scanning my words with mounting fury.
"You waste time scribbling like a foolish child," he snarled.
"Please—" I reached for it. "Those are my thoughts—"
Growling, he threw it into the fireplace.
"No!" I cried, rushing forward.
Flames devoured the pages instantly. My heart wailed in pain. My wolf whimpered. I bit my lips violently to keep myself from screaming or tearing up. That journal was the only thing my mother left me. Losing it felt like having my heart being physically ripped from my chest and crushed until nothing remained.
I wanted so badly to express my emotion, but the scars on my back from every time I'd dared throbbed in reminder.
"Get dressed," Father ordered coldly and sauntered towards the exit.
The words pierced through my pain and rang in my head.
"Dressed?" I blurted.
"For… for what?" I asked carefully.
"You're leaving this fortress."
Hope sparked despite myself. For months, I had been confined. If he was letting me out, then—
"Is there progress?" I blurted again. "Does this mean the war is turning?"
He turned to me and sneered.
"I knew it," I breathed, unable to stop the smile that curved my lips. "I can help. I can tend the wounded, or organize—"
"You will do none of that," he cut in. " Dress appropriately, Daphne. Wear the finest thing you own."
The smile faltered.
"Finest?" I repeated. "Father… no one dresses finely during war."
"Do not question me." He snapped
I flinched.
"Since you're so desperate to help the war effort," he sneered. "Here is your chance, but you must understand that how you present yourself tonight will determine whether this war ends."
My heart began to pound violently, and my vision blurred. "What do you mean?"
"No matter what happens," his sneer turned to a malicious grin, "remember your duty and destiny. If you fail tonight, you fail the pack."
My eyes widened. I opened my mouth to ask more, but he was already gone, the door slamming shut behind him.
I remained frozen until the door opened again and servants bustled in. It wasn't until they started dressing me that it occurred to me that if my role could end the war, then I would do it gladly.
I let myself relax, even humming softly as they worked on my appearance. They adorned me in silks and jewels, braided my hair, and praised how fitting I looked for a princess. I told myself this was right and that this was what I had been raised for.
It was only as they finished, closed the door, and were hurrying away that I heard them whisper.
"Poor child."
"Does she even know?" Another murmured.
"Hush! Before you lose your tongue to Alpha Carlos," One of them reprimanded.
"She deserves to know the truth," the first person argued.
"I'm sure Alpha Carlos has told her,"
"No. She's far too happy for someone about to be offered to the Demon Alpha King himself."
The world stopped. Cold dread spilled into my veins. My knees nearly gave out.
This had to be a joke.