An ominous bell tolled throughout the West Pack at intervals, its resonant sound reminding everyone that today was Alpha Henry’s burial.
The streets were lined with pack members who had left their homes early, standing shoulder to shoulder along the roads where Henry’s body would pass. Everyone was dressed in black, their solemn expressions reflecting the gravity of the day.
The procession began at the entrance of the packhouse. Four Deltas emerged, carrying Alpha Henry’s "supposed" body on a stone slab etched with the West pack’s sigil.
The truth was, there had been no body to recover. The explosion was so consuming that not even a single bone had been salvaged from the incident. All Asher had been able to gather were the ashes left at the site of his father’s death.
But Alpha Henry was still an Alpha, and tradition demanded he be given the full rites of burial. To honor this, the pack had constructed an effigy, shaping the outline of Henry’s body using straw and clay. This form was then wrapped tightly in pristine white cloth, before being enveloped in thick wolf pelts, a final sign of his rank and status as Alpha.
As soon as the delta took a step out of the pack house, the women were the first to break into a wail. The men all lowered their heads with a grunt, bearing their grief on the inside.
While the deltas moved on, Asher was right behind them, bearing a picture of Alpha Henry Nightshade. Elijah and the others were right behind him. They were all heading to the West pack’s sacred ground where Henry’s body would be burned on the pyre.
As soon as the crowd caught sight of Asher, the women’s wailing intensified. However, while some were busy crying, some others began tossing flowers onto his path, a final tribute to their fallen Alpha.
Asher didn’t let himself get distracted. His face was unreadable as he walked forward, following the procession accordingly.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at the Sacred Field.
The field stretched wide, encircled by towering stone pillars etched with the packs sigils. It was said that the first wolves had built this place during the Great War, when the death toll had been so high they needed a ground sanctified by the Moon Goddess herself.
Over time, it became a hallowed earth reserved for the most honored dead. Now, only Alphas and those of high rank were buried here. To be laid to rest on this soil, one had to earn it through deeds and rank.
At the center, a raised pyre awaited, while a Moonmother, dressed entirely in white ceremonial robes, stood solemnly at the side of the wooden frame.
The Deltas stepped forward in unison, carefully lifting Alpha Henry’s "body" onto the pyre. Once they stepped back, a heavy silence fell over the clearing, so deep it felt as if the very earth was holding its breath
Then it was the Novas turn to step forward. They were dressed entirely in flowing white garments, and in their hands, were shallow bowls filled with incense and fragrant herbs.
Moving in perfect harmony, the Novas began a ritualistic dance, their bare feet gliding across the sacred ground. The mist followed their movements, swirling around them.
No one dared to speak or move. Even the smallest children stilled, knowing this dance was for Selene herself, the Moon Goddess. This was a holy offering of devotion and guidance for the departed Alpha’s soul.
When the dance reached its peak, the Moonmother raised her hands high, and the Novas froze in place. Then, she began to chant in a language so ancient that none among the crowd could understand it.
It was said to be the first language of their kind, spoken long before their people were forced to adopt the tongue of humans through centuries of assimilation. Now, only the servants of the Moon Goddess were taught this sacred speech.
The moon mother’s voice was hauntingly beautiful, a melody so strange and deep that even without understanding a single word, every listener felt shivers down their spine. It was like listening to the heartbeat of the earth itself, ancient and eternal.
After the final note, the Moonmother bowed her head and exhaled deeply. Then, in a tone everyone understood, she spoke the sacred blessing: "Moonlit path, guide his soul."
"Moonlit path, guide his soul!" Everyone in the crowd repeated, already familiar with the words.
One of the Novas came forward, kneeling as she offered the moon mother the ceremonial torch, its tip glowing with the heat of the flame.
The Moonmother accepted it with reverence, then stepped before the pyre and lowered the torch. The dry wood caught fire instantly, flames roaring to life.
The moment the pyre ignited, Luna Patricia let out a raw, guttural scream of grief. She was not alone as her wail was joined by the voices of every woman present, their cries rising together until it became a sea of mourning.
Roman reached out and patted Asher gently on the shoulder. Though Alpha Henry had been an absolute bastard in life, he was still Asher’s father. And somewhere, buried beneath all the anger and resentment, Asher was hurting. Losing Henry meant losing the only family he had left—even if that family had been nothing but pain and control. Yeah, Roman understood it all.
His own family wasn’t great either.
Was Elijah really declaring Asher his successor?
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Defy The Alpha(s)