Chapter 9 - Like Father, Like Son?

“Maybe the King is right.” Veris’ gentle voice conveyed harsh meanings. It fired up something in Ikrus' heart that even the gentle winds of the night couldn't put out. They were sitting on this part of the roof of the Moon’s Temple, detached from what was below and into the serenity of what was above.

Veris loved to sit on this part of the roof, he always said it made him see the moon without any obstruction. His obsession with the Moon could be understood, after all, he would be the next Elder Superior, the one chosen by the Moon Goddess herself ever since birth.

He was marked by the image of a crescent moon on his forehead, which glowed softly all the time. Maybe there would be more marks to come when he would finally take his place as the Elder Superior.

Right now, he was only in training.

It was no news that the present Elder Superior wasn't fond of Veris. He wasn't chosen by the Moon goddess but chosen by the Alpha, which meant that he had no direct link with their goddess.

Veris was everything he wasn't. A piece of evidence that it was possible for one to be more powerful in the line that he had been called to, but that “one” would not be him.

Another source of hatred was that Veris wasn't always in agreement with the way the Elder Superior ran the Temple, therefore, everyone who supported the present administration of the Temple had taken Veris as an outcast.

They treated him like one, too.

Maybe that was why a friendship existed between Veris and Ikrus, because they shared a knowledge of being turned against for what they stood for, hated for something they couldn't control, hated by an authority just a step above them.

Veris was the only reason Ikrus was able to make it back to the Realm. Another thing that must remain a secret, or more enemies would be acquired.

For many years now, Veris had always stood up for him, supported him, and made sacrifices for him, so why was he standing against him now?

“This cannot possibly be coming from you.”

On this roof, they looked like a complete contrast. Veris, a bald man with writings tattooed to his head, adorned in white robes and with the most gentle look, and Ikrus, a complete opposite in a long buttonless robe with black long pants. His scars were the scars of victorious battles, and his eyes told the tales of the price that was paid for such victories.

The death, the suffering; there was no light in this lycan’s eyes anymore.

“Are you certain the Ringer is completely out of her? You know, a Ringer never truly leaves its host, Ikrus. That is why we kill them.”

Ikrus frowned, staring at the moon. “She has no Ringer no more. Besides,” he turned to look at Veris, “I will not kill my mate, Veris. Why are you supporting him? His plans are always of evil. He wanted to kill me, his own son. The only reason I still breathe is because of you.”

Silence fell between them for only a moment.

He was right.

“So what are you going to do with her?”

He shrugged. If things were normal, Veris wouldn't have to ask that question but things weren't.

“Is it true? Do they all die at the North Border?”

“Yes, truly.”

“And we don't know what is killing them?”

Veris sighed. “No.”

Ikrus’ gaze hardened, and he turned to the Moon once again.

“But there are signs of a Moon's gift this season.” His light voice again was carrying salvation.

Ikrus' eyes widened. “A Moon’s gift?”

There hasn't been a Moon’s gift in about seven years! Maybe Fate was on his side.

A Moon’s gift would usually appear like a star falling from the sky, it was a treasure that the moon goddess would give to them when she felt like it, an object of power. For anyone who would find it, the King would usually grant them whatever they asked for.

“Maybe you can use that to your advantage. Find the treasure and get whatever you want. He will not be able to deny a long-aged tradition.”

That was true. Even for the Alpha, there were some rules that he couldn't defy.

Hope was rising in his heart, but there was only one problem.

“But what if the trouble from the North comes before the gift? He said it usually happens every moon. All I have are days, not even a moon but days.”

“We will just have to hope for it to come early.”

“What if it doesn't?”

“Kill her.”

“Veris!”

This time, their gaze clashed. Ikrus’ own filled with anger while Veris’ eyes remained gentle, like he was proposing for his best friend to yank out life from his mate, like they were just talking about some silly things that had no life-changing impact; no threat, no fear.

“You will not survive the North, and your father’s way is cruel. He might set her as an example for your disobedience, she will have no one. I can help with accepting the little one into the Temple. He is young, he can be taught our ways, and I can protect him by being his mentor.” He smiled gently, resting his hand on Ikrus’ shoulder. “You have always hoped to find your mate, and I know that this is hard, but until we know the way forward, form no bonds with her, remain as unattached as possible.”

“I have already marked her.”

“Well, it is not complete yet, is it?”

His silence was an answer enough.

“It is not too late.” Veris pulled his hand away from his shoulder. “Just remember this: The night before you leave for the North, take her life, and bring me the little one.”

Because we both know you will be departing to meet your death - those were the unsaid words.

Instead, he said, “You will be greatly missed.”

Ikrus pushed his shoulder roughly. “I’m not even dead yet.”

He shrugged and then laughed as if his eyes weren’t glistening with unshed tears.

They both laughed; laid on their backs, stared at the moon, and laughed like this was the most hilarious thing ever.

Nothing about this was funny; not the words, nor the laughter itself. The night was filled with heartbreaking choices.

Kill her. Veris’ voice rang over and over again in his mind as they spoke about other things.

Kill her.

He was right, his death would be more merciful than any other that would be given to her.

Kill her.

He was not like his father, he wouldn't be like his father!

Yet different images of killing her flooded his mind, and in each, he considered it a painful mercy.

Kill her.

His heart raced so loudly, that he couldn't hear Veris' words again.

He was not like his father. He was not like his father! HE WAS NOT LIKE HIS FATHER!

Or was he?