How many lunar years could it take for this very special person to be born, just to save the middle realm?
Actually, not the entire realm... But, the entire werewolf clan.
Each werewolf belonged to a pack, and each pack made up a clan. In total, there were ten really large clans that took up acres of territory and then, other minority clans that either broke off from the majority clans or found themselves that way.
Such diversity, but they all had one thing in common; their identity. Another thing. They were waiting for the birth of the moonlight princess to save them from their endless nights of gloom.
In the middle of yet another dimly lit year in the Moonstone hall, the huge curtains in Wolfhaven sanctuary were drawn back.
Usually, a proud moon danced in the sky and its pale light, breaking through to illuminate the moonball of the werewolf clan.
Now, the moonball rested in desolation, devoid of its abilities.
The curtains stirred, and the night air was shut out with a note of finality. In that absolute darkness, there was neither silhouette nor shadow. But there were footsteps, sure and unhurried clicks of heel boots that knew its way. As soon it started, it stopped.
An automatic wooden door slid open with a creak, revealing a burst of light that made the boy squint in annoyance.
"All hail the Wolf Prince!" The court attendant standing by bellowed.
"All hail the Wolf Prince!" More strong voices echoed, the large space reverberating in response.
Everyone except the king stood. After the greeting, the standing brought their hands into a cup, kowtowed and raised their heads to the ceiling.
The boy sighed and rolled his eyes inwardly. Here they come.
The main hall erupted with howls.
Ayah! He wailed internally as he reluctantly assumed the regal stance. His right hand poised behind his back and the left, straight by his side.
With chin set, gait light but firm in an imposing grace, he made his way to the dais.
He walked past their territorial colours woven into all forms of clothing, matching them in an embroidered, faded yellow shirt and black leather pants.
The musky scent of wolf fur mixed with the sweet aroma of burning incense, and a faint scent of candle wax, filled his nostrils. A hundred yellow candle flames flickered and swayed with an unusual breeze, casting eerie shadows in the throne room.
Nonetheless, keeping his gaze ahead was most important. Like that, he would appear as if he was gazing at the king, his father, in piety.
The second was to turn his back to his father, and bow to their old - able subjects.
Subsequently, he would turn to his father, kowtow and take the right to his seat which was only three feet apart.
"You are indeed just in time, Son," King Janes said with genuine cheerfulness as soon as the noise died down and the audience's eyes were on them.
"May I take my seat now, Father?"
A snicker was heard just as he sat. "Prince Relik, you have forgotten your crown once again."
The prince froze for a second, the curl of irritation in his belly didn't let him fully enjoy the warm hug of the wolf-fur draped on his throne.
He leaned forward slightly, gaze neutral as he stared at the Lord of the tenth major realm and protector of the minority.
"Pardon me, Lord Gaven; this one has a bad memory."
"You have no mem-"
"Lord Gaven!" King Janes cut through before the matter escalated and Lord Gaven was forced to acquiesce.
"I will handle this after," King Janes went on to say pointedly, facing his son's direction.
Then, he addressed the audience.
No one could convince Relik that the old wolf hadn't been itching for an opportunity to rile him up. Freewill seemed to be a concept remembered only by him in the Moonstone halls.
Each time, they vibrated. "Where is your brooch?"
"Where is your cloak?"
"Where is your mantle?"
"One without a brooch is forbidden from the Moonstone halls?"
Their grim faces scrutinized his every actions.
At least, he tried today. Only that heavy crown had been left out.
One day, Relik thought with tongue in cheek, Gaven would especially fall into his trap.
Let's see how you can talk when I pull your tongue out with-
The clang of the royal bell jarred Relik out of his nightmarish reverie.
Gaven, the gods have saved you.
On meeting an aggravated glance from his father, he quickly got to his feet, raised a hand and howled.
At first, he stretched his vocal cords unwillingly but was soon overtaken by the passion of his inner wolf.
Gone were the days when the howling of the wolves signified great strength and power.
After a little while, Relik plunked down.
"The royal court begins!"
Ever since his father had threatened to throw him out of the clan if he missed one more court, Relik had always attended. However, he could admit that it was fair.
How could he rule when he didn't know the affairs of his people?
Soon, he was forgotten as the king and the representatives of the ten major clans became engrossed in matters, both trivial and important.
On the royal dais, there were three thrones carved intricately into the ground, adorned with pure gold and draped in wolf fur. While two were occupied, the other was significantly empty.
Following a perpendicular line to the adjacent thrones, there were five ornate seats on either side carved into the ground with bronze. These were smaller, less sturdy, and separated by a circular base of wood with a bronze statue of a howling wolf head suspended on it.
On each wolf head, dug into a pinnacle on the forehead, was a golden candle that burned eternally. Not only there, but these candles overrode the Moonstone hall.
Relik recalled the Shaman's words on one warm night: "The Moonstone halls were carved with the essence of the first werewolves of the Wolven God."
Each family had its own to protect them from the nightly creatures. And since these beasts couldn't get in, they stayed out, snatching up the unsuspecting wolf that wandered without a candle.
Over the past century, the attacks had become stronger. Every being on the middle realm knew that the werewolves were a shadow of their former selves.
Until the Moonlight princess completed the rites of grace, the predator would remain the preyed.
Wait, why hadn't they mentioned her yet?
The court's deliberation felt incomplete.
Relik hadn't been born when the werewolves were punished with this calamity.
Seasons passed, years dragged by, and a century went by without a glimpse of the moon. It was normal that hopes that had once shone bright had weathered with time.
"The vampires are encroaching on our territories once more." Lord Gaven read from his scroll when it finally got to his turn.
Shoulders tensed. Eyes met. Even the indifferent Prince Relik piqued up in interest.
"And where is this happening?" Lord Benit, a man with deep ancient eyes asked with a curious face.
Relik was instantly drawn to him. He overly fancied the brooding cat that always perched on his broad shoulders, and his able son.
However, Lord Benit, just like the other lords, was wary of him and didn't let him close. The prince grimaced, tongue suddenly bitter.
"They can only infiltrate the vulnerable minority clans," Gaven retorted, as if the knowledge was commonplace.
"They dare not go further," he added, tone laced with pomposity. The highest lord of the tenth major clan and the protector of the minority clans had an irate temper. Not to mention the fact that, if this case was true, the vampires, would dare go further if they wished to. It
"Lord Gaven," Relik started, using his tunnel vision to regard the gray-haired, balding man with disdain. "Did you happen to witness this encroachment?"
"I dare not speak falsely, My Prince," the lord asserted, meeting his gaze head on. Relik turned cold with that response. His fingers twitched, his claws protruding without thought. The air around him began to twist.
Reports of the nightly creatures' attacks in that clan had never made it to the royal court. But on the sightings of vampires around the boundary, even if the vampires were doing nothing, Gaven would hurry to present it.
At the same time, Lord Gaven's hand instinctively went to his throat, scratching at a sudden itch.
"Perhaps... uh... argh-"
The air to his windpipe was suddenly constricted. He couldn't breathe. He choked, opened his mouth wider in an attempt to draw air into his chest, but to no avail. His eyes bulged. His face turned blue. His ears rang and he helplessly slid out of the seat, trembling.
The other lords ran to him in a frenzy, sensing danger.
Lord Benit cast a protective barrier. King Janes snarled, bolting upright, claws and fangs out and poised for attack. Something occurred to him, and he turned to his son. In contrast, Relik's demeanour was meditative.
"Cease your madness this second!"
Relik heard his father's fury break through his barrier and pour into his mind. Angered, he whipped his head to the source. His eyes were bright and fired up, but what he saw made him deflate. His fiery eyes dissolved into a jade-green.
Also, Lord Gaven could finally breathe again.
It didn't surprise anyone that Gaven began to clamor. "Vampires." He heaved. "Vampires! My king."
He coughed and heaved as he struggled to talk and breathe at the same time. "This is a warning. This only confirms it!"
Lord Benit was about to tell him to catch his breath first, but nature overtook him.
There was a loud thump as Gaven hit his head on the hard, bronze chair.
"If I may excuse myself," Relik announced in the ensuing stillness, and escaped.