Threads Of Fate

The air inside the ancient stone chamber pulsed with magic. Shadows flickered across the towering walls, shifting as if alive, as the torches lining the circular room flared with an eerie green glow. The scent of burning herbs and damp earth clung to the air—a mixture of power and secrecy.

At the center of the chamber, seated on a throne carved from black obsidian, was Alexander, Alpha of the rival pack. His dark eyes burned with intensity as he watched the figures gathered before him.

To his left stood three Seelies, their ethereal forms shimmering in the dim light. Tall and elegant, with skin that glowed faintly like the moon, their piercing eyes reflected an ancient wisdom. Unlike the werewolves, their expressions were unreadable, their movements almost too graceful for mortal comprehension.

But it was what lay in the heart of the chamber that held everyone's attention.

The Moirai—the last of their kind.

Two frail figures, cloaked in deep midnight robes, sat cross-legged on the stone floor. Their faces were hidden beneath their hoods, but their presence crackled with raw power. They were relics of an era long past, a dying breed that had long faded from the world. Yet, their words still shaped destinies.

One of them lifted a withered hand, her voice rasping through the heavy silence.

"The prophecy nears its time."

A chill crept through the room.

Alexander's jaw tightened. "Speak plainly."

The second Moirai, her voice like wind whispering through dead leaves, continued. "When the beast claims his mate, the world will shift. The blood moon shall rise, and with it, his power."

"The destruction will be swift," the first Moirai added. "Your people will burn."

Alexander clenched his fists. He had heard the prophecy before. A thousand times. The words haunted his dreams, tormenting him with images of ruin and slaughter.

He had sent a witch to kill her, to destroy Killian's mate before she could take her rightful place at his side. But now, whispers had reached him. She lived.

The witch had failed.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers curling over the arms of his throne. "You have spoken these words for centuries, yet we are still standing."

A dry, rasping chuckle came from one of the Moirai. "For now."

Alexander narrowed his eyes. "And you see no path where we win?"

The Moirai tilted her head ever so slightly. "Fate is woven in many threads, Alpha. Some fray, some hold. You must find the right one to sever."

Alexander's lips curled into a sneer. "Then tell me—where do I cut?"

Silence.

Then, the second Moirai whispered, "The mate is the key. Always, it has been the mate."

Alexander growled, slamming his fist against the throne's armrest. "The witch was our first attempt! Now, we go deeper. We send someone inside. Someone he trusts."

The room fell silent.

The silver-haired Seelie woman studied him for a long moment before speaking, her voice smooth as silk. "You ask for deception, Alpha. You ask for betrayal."

"I ask for survival," Alexander countered, his tone razor-sharp. "You stand here, so unaffected, because you believe yourselves above this war. But the prophecy does not only mark the end of my pack. The moment Killian rises to his full power, your people will suffer too."

The Seelie's lips twitched in something almost amused. "You think he will come for us?"

Alexander's gaze burned. "He will come for everyone."

A deep hum filled the chamber as the Seelies exchanged unreadable glances. Then, the male among them—the one whose skin was the color of dusk—stepped forward. "Perhaps there is truth in your fear. The prophecy does not speak only of destruction for your kind."

The Moirai stirred. "The world will kneel before him. Werewolves, Seelies, witches… none will be untouched."

The silver-haired Seelie arched a delicate brow. "And yet you stand here, plotting against him, when he does not yet have what he needs to rise."

Alexander's jaw tightened. "Not yet. But the moment he bonds with her, we will be too late."

The Seelie woman studied him for a long, thoughtful moment. "You would send a traitor into his den."

"I would send a necessary weapon."

The Moirai let out a breath, their voices intertwining like a haunting melody.

"But fate does not favor those who defy it."

Alexander stood, his massive form casting long shadows across the chamber. "Then let's see how far fate bends before it breaks."

Another pause. The tension in the room thickened, pressing like an unseen force.

Finally, the silver-haired Seelie sighed. "Very well. But know this—there is a cost to meddling with fate."

Alexander's gaze remained unyielding. "Everything has a cost."

One of the Moirai let out a slow, wheezing breath. "You believe you hold the knife at fate's throat, Alpha."

"I do."