24. Aria

24

ARIA

T he clamor of battle had faded, blanketing the field in an ominous silence. I fell to my knees beside my father, the damp grass soaking my pants as I grasped at his weakening form. “Please, hold on.” My hands trembled as I clung to him, my visceral screams tearing through the air.

Atticus was there, ready for whatever I needed, being my backbone when I had none. Seren, with her quiet fortitude, stayed close, her sorrow mirroring my own.

But it was my father’s face that held me captive, and he opened his mouth.

“Choose... the heart’s path…”

Each word was laden with a lifetime of love and wisdom as he looked at me for the final time. I was struck by the intensity of his stare, a plea for me to follow not just duty but the call of my own soul. Then, his eyes, that unique silver so much like my own, closed.

With that, something inside me fractured. Pain erupted from deep within, consuming me whole. Disbelief plagued me even as memories of my father flooded in unbidden. Each recollection—a tender smile, the pride in his eyes after my first shift, his laugh echoing through the manor halls—was a sharp reminder of what I’d lost. The finality of his death was a crushing weight on my chest, shattering my world into fragments too jagged to piece back together. I was caught in the abyss of loss and the harsh reality of what lay ahead. The battlefield, once a chaotic canvas of violence, was now a void where the echo of my father’s last breath haunted the silence.

The blood on the ground anchored me to the spot, even as I drifted on the currents of shock and disbelief. I had watched numbly as the gentle rise and fall of my father’s chest ceased, the finality of it rooting me in place. The end of an era.

Atticus lifted Ragnar effortlessly, cradling him with a reverence that revealed his knowledge of the import of this moment. After studying me for a long moment, he turned to carry my father back to the manor.

I trudged on behind Atticus, each step sluggish, forced, as if I moved through a world of molasses. The path we took was familiar, yet every brush of wind, every rustle of leaves, sounded mournful, the forest singing an elegy. Atticus walked ahead of us all, a silent guardian to the shell that had been a fierce and great leader. Seren’s quiet presence at my side was the only sign that I wasn’t alone in my desolation.

The scent of blood mixing with the aroma of the woods was a pungent reminder of the chaos that had unfolded mere hours ago. My new reality began to sink its claws into my soul. My father’s teachings echoed in my ears, guiding me even as I struggled to comprehend a future without his wisdom.

An invisible mantle settled on my shoulders, heavy with expectation. How could I fill the void left by a man whose very presence signified vigor and stability? There was a sudden and undeniable pull inside me, a tether to the pack that would now look to me for guidance.

Alpha Aria. The title was foreign, too grand for the scared girl who walked through the twilight toward the home she could no longer call her own. The title of alpha had always been destined for me. My father had been preparing and mentoring me for the role since I was born. But in all my imagined scenarios, I had never envisioned that he wouldn’t be there to support and counsel me along the way.

My father’s absence was a gaping chasm in my world. I had to bridge it for the sake of those who depended on me.

Atticus paused at the threshold, allowing me to gather the splintered pieces of myself before crossing into the life that awaited me. He didn’t have to speak; his face said all that needed to be said.

“Choose the heart’s path.” My father had said it in a mere whisper, but it echoed in my ears, reverberating through the marrow of my bones. What had he meant? The words refused to be understood, lost in the images of the battle that flashed through my mind. With every recollection, my heart clenched tighter, guilt layering on the pain.

I remembered the glint of the knife at my throat, the terror that had surged through me—not of death, no, but of being torn from Atticus. At the time, there had been no pack, no duty, only the desperate longing to be in his arms, to feel the press of his lips against mine, promising eternity in a fleeting touch.

How selfish I was. How wildly I’d danced on the knife edge of desire, blinded to everything else. Could my heedless heart have cost my father his life? Was it my yearning that had led to this ruin?

With steps heavy as leaden iron, I ascended the staircase to my chamber. The door closed behind me with a click, and I was alone. Isolated in a mausoleum of memories, the scent of my father still lingering, a cruel reminder of what had been stolen from us.

Anguish seized me, a visceral entity clawing its way out of my soul. My savage scream shattered the oppressive silence, a sound that no civilized tongue should ever have to form. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I collapsed to my knees.

“Father!” I cried. “Why did you leave me?”

Fury filled me, hot and blinding. I lashed out, sending vases crashing to the floor, books torn from their shelves, tapestries that adorned the walls ripped from their hangings. Each object I destroyed was a stand-in for my own failures, for impotence in the face of death’s immutable decree.

I was supposed to be strong, to lead, to protect. But how could I lay claim to leadership when my choices had wrought destruction? My pack needed an alpha, not a broken girl who gave in to her every whim and passion. They deserved better than me.

The world outside my shattered haven was a cold whisper, but in these four walls, the gale raged. Spent, heartbroken, I collapsed onto the floor, the destruction I had wrought surrounding me.

“Father!” I shouted into the air that had once been filled by his laughter, his wisdom. “How do I carry on?”

In the silence that followed, the answer began to weave itself from the tatters of my broken heart. I had to rise. For him, for the pack, for myself. With my whole soul screaming in protest, I pushed away the terrible grief that demanded to be felt. Now was not the time for tears—there would be time enough for that later. For now, I needed to step into my birthright.

A knock fractured the remnants of my grief, jarring me back to reality. I shuffled over to the door and opened it to find Ilaric.

I fell into his arms, sobbing into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I tried to pull back and wipe my tears, but he stopped me.

“Shh,” he said. “You don’t have to apologize for your tears. They are the language of the heart, and they speak of your deep love for your father.”

I allowed the dam to break, my tears soaking into his shirt as he led me to the sofa. “I’m all alone,” I said, the words tumbling out. “With so much at stake, without his guidance, how can I lead?”

“You’re not alone,” he said. “Your father’s legacy lives in you. Remember, true strength often comes from embracing vulnerability.”

We stayed there in shared sorrow until my tears ran dry, then Ilaric rose and cupped my face. “Rest now,” he said softly. “When you’re ready, we’ll all be here, waiting to follow our alpha. The greatest leaders are those who have known loss and emerged with empathy and resolve. You have a pack who believes in you. I believe in you.”

Sleep eluded me as I lay there, haunted by the memory of my father’s murder. I questioned whether it was wrong to feel glad that Atticus had sought fierce vengeance, or if I should feel guilty for not having done it myself.

After an hour of moving around the sofa, I decided to get up and start preparations to honor my father and address the pack. I pushed myself off the sofa, each muscle in my body protesting. The room spun slightly, an aftereffect of the bone-deep grief. It was time to face the world below, time to step into my father’s shoes—shoes that seemed too vast for my feet.

Descending the staircase was like wading through molasses again, every step heavy with what awaited. But there he was, Atticus, my heart’s compass. His presence alone sent tiny tremors coursing through me.

“Ragnar is laid to rest in the mausoleum,” Atticus said. “He is safe and honored.”

Something fractured inside me at the mention of my father’s name, and then Atticus’s arms were around me, muffling the sobs that broke free before I could reel them in. How foolish to think I had any composure left.

“Gods, look at me,” I chastised myself, a rogue tear streaking down my cheek. “Falling apart again when I just pieced myself together. This is all my fault. If only I had been paying better attention. If only?—”

“Stop,” Atticus said firmly, pulling back to hold my gaze. “This isn’t on you. Fate deals cruel hands, but we play with the cards we’re given.”

“Thank you.” I drew from his strength. “But there’s no time for tears now. The pack needs their alpha. They need to hear from me.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, arching his brow. “You can take a moment?—”

“No,” I said firmly. “This cannot wait.”

“Then I will stand with you,” Atticus said, his touch a solemn promise as we moved toward the solemn gathering ahead.

Ragnar’s wise eyes would never meet mine again. There would never again be guidance from him.

“Take a minute,” Atticus whispered. “Mourn him. There’s time.”

With leaden steps, I moved toward the remnants of our once-vibrant gathering place. I stood before the pack, their faces marred with loss and uncertainty, mirroring the turmoil that churned inside me.

“Today, we faced the unthinkable,” I said steadily despite the tremors that threatened to unravel me. “Today, we lost more than our alpha. We lost a guiding star.”

I felt their pain, their need for assurance, for direction. It was a force that wove through the throng, binding us in shared anguish.

“Yet even as we grieve, we must look to the horizon. Ragnar’s legacy lives on in us, in me. His lessons, his spirit, they are the bedrock on which we will rebuild. And though my heart may bleed, it will not break. For I am your alpha now, and I will lead us into a future where we honor his memory with our every breath.”

Atticus hovered near the gathered wolves, his presence a constant comfort.

“Ragnar taught me that leadership is not a path walked alone,” I continued. “It is a journey we embark on as one pack, one family. With every step, we will grow stronger and more united. We will face our future with heads held high.”

The murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, solidarity that bolstered my wavering spirit. I was their alpha, forged in fire and baptized in loss.

Silence covered the clearing in a mournful hush, punctuated only by the occasional sob that escaped from the bereaved wolves gathered with me. My chest was an aching void where my father once resided.

“Meet me at his burial site when the sky blushes with the kiss of night,” I said. “We honor the past by embracing the future.”

With that, I turned, my steps firm. Leadership was mine to bear. The murmurs of their grief and pledges of loyalty were the undercurrent to the crickets that now began their evening serenade. My father’s teachings pulsed through me, a lattice of wisdom that held me upright when all I wanted was to collapse.

Through it all, Atticus was there, his presence a silent vigil. He watched over me. It was as though he wished to wrap me in his arms without ever touching me, to support without overstepping the boundaries I had to set as alpha.

Before I drifted toward him, Seren and Eldan approached. As they pulled me into their arms, I was reminded of the support that came from unity, the comfort found in shared sorrow.

“Thank you.” I pulled back just enough to look at Seren. “You saved us. Your power, it’s our savior in these darkest times. You cannot hide it.”

“Hide it?” She shook her head, strands of her hair catching the dying light. “No longer. Not after today.”

“Good.” I smiled, though it was more a baring of teeth, a promise of vengeance to the forces that dared challenge us. “We need that light now more than ever.”

Eldan nodded, his usually jovial face somber yet resolute. “We stand with you. Through fire and shadow, we stand.”

“Stay close.” I glanced at them. “There is much to be done, and dusk waits for no one.”

As they nodded, I turned to find Atticus once again. Our eyes met across the clearing, and even at this distance, I felt the heat of his gaze as if it were a physical caress. Yet, he remained where he was, an unwavering support that asked for nothing in return but my well-being.

“Atticus,” I said, and he stepped forward, his movements predatory yet gentle. “Always there,” I added, acknowledging what he offered—unconditional support, the kind that didn’t smother but fortified.

“Always,” he said.

“Then let us prepare,” I said, lifting my chin. “For tonight, and the lunar eclipse, we honor the past and arm ourselves for the future.”

Eldan’s hand found mine, his grip firm yet filled with the tremors of our shared loss.

“Can we be there with you? For the ritual?” Seren’s voice, usually so light and teasing, now carried our grim reality.

“Yes,” I answered. It was more than giving permission; a plea for their presence.

“Thank you,” Eldan said.

We made our way through the remnants of war, where the fallen had been brought to lay in silent proof of the brutality of our existence. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of crimson and gold as if it, too, mourned the passing of Ragnar. My father, the alpha who had led us through the bad times and the good.

The pack gathered, a sea of faces awash with grief, their bodies huddled for warmth against the chill of impending night. I stepped forward, my feet rooted to the sacred ground that would now cradle my father’s body.

My words carved through the silence, each syllable a tribute to the man who had shaped my very being.

“Ragnar taught us to be fierce in love and in war.” I allowed the passion that always simmered beneath my skin to bleed into my speech. “He showed us that strength is not just the might of the claw and fang, but the courage to stand tall in the face of despair.”

As I spoke, memories of my father—his laughter, his wisdom, his unyielding spirit—danced across my mind.

“Let us honor him as he lived—proud and unbroken.” I lifted my face to the horizon, where the last light of day caressed the tips of the trees, setting them aflame with a solemn beauty.

“Tomorrow, we rise anew, bearing the legacy he has left us. But tonight, we lay to rest a great soul. May the earth be gentle on your slumber, Father.”

The pack bowed their heads, their whispers of mourning rising into howls of grief. I vowed to carry on Ragnar’s legacy, not just as his daughter, but as the alpha who would lead our pack into the dawn.

The silence that followed was profound, filled with shared sorrow. I exhaled slowly, allowing myself to envision the way ahead. It was fraught with challenges, but I was ready to meet them with the ferocity of a true alpha.

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath us, a deep rumbling that snatched away all calm. An earthquake gripped the land with unforgiving hands, shaking the solemnity of our mourning into disarray. I stumbled, unprepared, but strong arms enveloped me, steadying my stance.

Atticus held me close, his presence a pillar. “Steady, love. It’s passing,” he said against my ear.

As the trembling subsided, I turned in his arms, my eyes locking with his. “The eclipse,” I said, the urgency clear in my tone.

With the countdown nearly zero, the pressure to complete our extensive to-do list was yet another burden on my already-heavy shoulders. Time was running out. If we didn’t know all our parts in the ritual by now, we were too late. We had to trust we’d been given enough information.

Atticus nodded, understanding. He released me but stayed by my side, ready to face whatever the prophecy demanded of us.

“Rumors have been slinking through our ranks,” I said to the pack. “Whispers of a prophecy, unspoken and feared. No longer.” I looked across the sea of faces, absorbing the thrum of their collective curiosity. “From this day forth, there will be no secrets that fester. We are a family, bound by blood and bond, and it’s time we honor every part of ourselves.”

I paused, allowing the sincerity of my words to seep into their hearts. “Our gifts, our powers, they are not curses to be hidden in shame, but abilities to be honed and celebrated. Our struggles and weaknesses make us who we are. They give us the courage to rise above. We will emerge from this grief stronger and more united than ever before.”

A hush fell over the crowd. My heart hammered, echoing the rhythm of impending change.

“The prophecy is real,” I said. “My father knew it—and yes, he feared it at first—but then he accepted its inevitability. It is a path laid out for us. One we must tread with both reverence and tenacity.

“Tonight, under the eclipse, I will perform a ritual, an ancient rite that promises to fortify the magic that pulses through the veins of our land, support the forest that shelters us, and empower our pack beyond measure.” I swallowed hard. “I won’t pretend to understand all its intricacies, but I do know this: it is essential for the safety of us all.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd, a mixture of awe and apprehension. But beneath it all, there was hope that refused to be snuffed out by fear.

“Trust in me, as you trusted in my father. Tonight, we face our calling not as scattered individuals but as an indomitable pack, united by the bonds of kinship and the desire to protect what is ours.”

With those words, I solidified my vow to them, to myself. I would lead with passion, with empathy, guided by the memory of my father and the unyielding love that tied me to these lands and to Atticus, whose presence promised that I would never have to face the darkness alone.

The murmurs of the pack seemed to blend with the rustling leaves above.

“Thank you,” said an elder, “for your courage.”

I nodded, unable to muster words that could possibly convey the depth of my gratitude, or the terror that clawed at my insides. Each “thank you” was a petal on the wind, a fleeting touch that left a mark on my soul.

I stepped away from the pack and strode toward Atticus. “We need to prepare.”

“Of course.” Atticus stepped forward, the intricate tapestry of his tattoos shifting with the movement. “Tonight, we honor your father, and we secure our future.” He stared at me, fierce and unflinching.

“Back here at three, just in time for the eclipse,” I said.

“Whatever you need, I’m with you.”

The promise hung there, tangible as the chain around my neck. A vow of support, unwavering and true. As he’d spoken, a recognition had sparked between us—of our intertwined fates and the fires of passion that could either forge us anew or consume us entirely.

“Let’s not keep destiny waiting,” I said. But even as a half-hearted smile tugged at my lips, my heart knew. There was no armor against the coming eclipse, only the strength we’d found in each other’s arms.