Damien – Full Moon Festival Eve
The invitation had been sitting on my desk for three damn days.
Crescent-cut parchment, ink in formal silver script, sealed with the Moonshade Pack’s crest. Typical Orion — precise, traditional, and annoyingly punctual. I hadn’t opened it, didn’t need to. The Full Moon Festival came every year, and every year, I made an excuse not to go.
This year should’ve been no different.
I leaned back in my chair, the wood groaning beneath my weight as I stared at the ceiling. I had better things to do — territory disputes, trade agreements, wolves still recovering from border skirmishes. The idea of standing around in ceremonial garb, drinking watered-down wine while wolves danced around a bonfire under the moonlight? Waste of time.
A sharp knock interrupted the spiral of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I called.
The door creaked open and in stepped my father, Alpha Magnus. Or rather, what remained of him. He leaned heavily on his cane, his once-powerful frame now bowed by age and illness.
“Still haven’t opened it?” he asked, eyes drifting to the untouched envelope on my desk.
“I don’t need to. I know what it says.”
“It’s an invitation, not a death sentence.”
I snorted. “Debatable.”
Magnus gave a weary smile and moved to the chair across from mine. Every step looked like it cost him more than he let on. I hated seeing him like this — the man who raised me, who once broke bones with a single punch, now reduced to cautious movements and quiet breaths.
“Damien,” he said after a moment, his voice slow, measured. “I want you to go.”
“I’ve skipped the last four.”
“And you won’t skip this one.” He leaned forward, his voice turning firmer. “Orion is more than an ally. He’s a friend. And this alliance matters.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t,” I muttered.
“You don’t have to,” he replied sharply. “I know you. You’ve been avoiding more than just diplomacy.”
I didn’t respond. He didn’t need me to.
Magnus exhaled, long and tired. “He asked for you specifically. Not just the pack. You.”
That caught me off guard. “Why?”
His eyes met mine, heavy with something unreadable. “Because you’ll find something there that belongs to you.”
I frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
Magnus didn’t answer. He only reached forward, picked up the invitation, and pressed it into my hand. “Go. Represent our pack. Represent me. I can’t travel anymore, Damien. If I could go myself, I would.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I don’t need another festival, old man,” I said eventually, my voice quieter than before. “I need time. I need—”
“You need to stop standing still,” he cut in. “Life doesn’t wait for you to be ready.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. The stubborn glint in his eyes hadn’t faded, even if everything else had. He’d led the Crescent Moon Pack through war and ruin. If he was asking this of me, it wasn’t for no reason.
I ran a hand over my jaw, then nodded slowly. “Fine. I’ll go.”
His shoulders eased slightly. “Good.”
As he stood, he added, “Wear something decent. You represent more than just your own pride.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He gave a faint chuckle, then paused at the door. “And Damien?”
“Yeah?”
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharper than I expected.
“Keep your mind open. The moon doesn’t just illuminate the path ahead—it reveals what’s been hidden in the dark.”
I didn’t answer. Just stared at the closed door long after he was gone.