Fenrir and the Elders
**Fenrir's POV**
The grand hall of Lycandor's castle was a monument to power and tradition. Black stone walls rose high, their polished surfaces gleaming in the flickering torchlight. Shadows danced across the room, amplifying the ominous air that hung heavy within the chamber. I stood at the center, my boots clicking against the cold floor as I faced the four elders seated at a semi-circular table carved from obsidian.
They were Lycandor's so-called guardians, their faces etched with the weight of centuries of tradition. Wisdom marked their features, but so did arrogance—a refusal to acknowledge the changing world. Their presence always grated on me, a constant reminder of the past trying to shackle the future.
---
The elder seated in the middle, his gray robe draping loosely over his frail frame, was the first to speak. His voice was steady but carried a faint edge of disdain. "Fenrir," he began, his sharp eyes narrowing at me.
"The time is drawing near. You must choose a mate to secure your rule. Without an heir, the stability of Lycandor cannot endure."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I had heard this argument too many times. Before I could reply, the elder to his right, a woman with sharp, hawk-like features, interjected. Her voice was smoother but no less cutting.
"You're strong, Fenrir, but strength alone isn't enough. An alpha without an heir is a fleeting shadow—powerful for a moment but destined to fade."
Her words were meant to provoke, but I kept my face expressionless. Inside, though, anger simmered. These elders clung to traditions like lifelines, unwilling to see that my strength had brought Lycandor to heights they could only dream of.
---
I crossed my arms over my chest, letting the silence stretch before speaking. When I did, my voice was low and commanding, a growl rumbling beneath my words. "Lycandor thrives because of me," I said, my eyes scanning each of their faces. "Not because of your traditions, your rituals, or your outdated beliefs. As long as I stand as alpha, this city will not fall."
The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "Confidence is admirable," she said mockingly, "but arrogance is dangerous. You may be strong now, but what happens when your strength wanes? Without an heir, you risk inviting chaos."
I stepped forward, just enough to make them feel the weight of my presence. "Do not mistake confidence for arrogance," I said, my voice a low threat. "I have built this city from the ashes of its past. I have brought peace and prosperity to Lycandor, and I will not let anyone—alpha, beta, or elder—undermine what I have created."
---
The third elder, a man with a beard streaked with silver, finally spoke. His tone was measured, almost conciliatory, but I could sense the intent behind his words.
"Fenrir, you are the strongest alpha Lycandor has ever known. But strength must be tempered with wisdom. Without balance, strength becomes recklessness."
I chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through the hall. "Wisdom?" I repeated, my lips curving into a predatory smile. "You speak of balance, yet you cling to traditions that have no place in the world I am building. Lycandor does not need balance—it needs dominance."
The fourth elder, the youngest of the group, leaned forward. His tone was sharper, his frustration barely concealed. "Arrogant as always," he muttered. "But remember, Fenrir, power is not eternal. You may be alpha now, but power can be taken as quickly as it was earned."
I let his words hang in the air for a moment before stepping closer to the table. My eyes glowed faintly red, and my voice dropped into a growl. "If any of you think you can take my power, then try. But know this: Lycandor's strength lies in me. Not in heirs, not in traditions, and certainly not in this council."
---
The hall fell into a tense silence. The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier confidence wavering under the weight of my words. They hated me for challenging their authority, for reshaping Lycandor into a city that reflected my vision, not theirs. But I knew their hatred was laced with fear, and fear was my greatest weapon.
Finally, the elder woman broke the silence, her voice colder than before. "You've turned Lycandor into something unrecognizable, Fenrir. Markets? Families? This city used to be a symbol of werewolf strength, and now it looks like a human settlement."
I turned to her, a cold smile spreading across my face. "This city is mine," I said evenly. "And as long as I rule, it will reflect my will. You may not like it, but Lycandor is stronger now than it ever was under your traditions."
Another elder opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. All eyes turned to the shadows near the entrance, where a figure emerged with an air of quiet authority.
---
**The Arrival of a Mysterious Man**
The man who stepped forward was tall and lean, his dark hair streaked with silver at the temples. His sharp eyes seemed to pierce through everything they touched, and the faint smile on his lips was both welcoming and dangerous. He moved with a grace that belied his age, each step measured and deliberate.
"Master," I said, inclining my head slightly in respect. The elders stiffened at the sight of him, their earlier bravado melting into a wary silence. They knew who he was, and their fear was palpable.
The man stopped a few steps from the table, his hands clasped behind his back. "Fenrir," he said, his voice smooth and unhurried. "It has been some time since I last saw you."
I met his gaze without flinching. "It has," I replied. "And much has changed since then. Lycandor is no longer the fractured city it once was."
He chuckled softly, the sound sending a chill through the room. "Indeed," he said. "You have built something remarkable. But tell me, Fenrir, are you truly prepared for the weight of what you have created?"
I straightened, my voice firm. "I am no longer your student, Master. Lycandor is my proof. I lead this city with strength and purpose."
The man's smile widened slightly, though his eyes remained cold. "Strength and purpose are admirable, but they are not always enough. Remember, Fenrir, the greatest empires are not brought down by enemies—they are destroyed from within."
His words lingered in the air like a warning. The elders, usually so quick to criticize me, remained silent, their eyes darting nervously between me and my former mentor.
---
As the man turned and disappeared back into the shadows, I felt a surge of determination. I had risen from nothing to become the most powerful alpha Lycandor had ever known. I would not let the doubts of elders or the warnings of a mentor undermine my rule.
I stepped out onto the balcony of the castle, the cold night air biting against my skin. Below me, the city of Lycandor sprawled, its lights twinkling like stars. The palace towered over it all, a testament to the strength I had forged.
"No matter what happens," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, "I will lead Lycandor as I see fit. And anyone who dares to challenge me will learn the true meaning of power."
The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light over the city. In that moment, I felt invincible. Lycandor was mine, and I would defend it with everything I had.