by Asher North
"You surprise me, Syler." Cynno said, one eyebrow raised. "It doesn't seem to fit your personality."
"Are you implying I'm weak or incapable?" the wolf called back, his nostrils flaring in anger.
"I'm implying nothing other than my own surprise," Cynno said. Though Syler growled in response, he seemed to let it go. "This is the final call. Are there any others who would like to fight for the opposition?" Damon held his breath as he waited, but no others volunteered. "So be it. Syler, the battle is yours. May favor be on your side." Xeres seemed dejected but kept his objections to himself.
Damon eyed the young wolf who had been chosen to fight against him. Syler was not much smaller than himself, and a ripple of fear passed through him as he regarded this young wolf. Though Syler did not seem to be particularly strong, Damon had the sense that Syler possessed an underlying, almost beguiling strength. Damon hoped that his own appearance gave the same impression.
"Before the eyes of the First Shifter, I hereby declare this a battle for truth, a battle for justice. The victor, the last wolf standing, will decide the fate of us all. Do either of you have any words you wish to share before we begin?" Cynno asked. Syler shook his head vigorously and pushed his way through the crowd to stand before Damon. Damon searched the wolves for a friendly face and found Rhys standing not far away, clutching their child to his chest, with Kaster and Eleo at his side. Seeing his friends and family gave him the courage that he needed. There was no time to be afraid, no time to second-guess himself. If he wanted to prove his strength and his worthiness to Rhys, it would have to be now. Come what may, he had made the right decision, of that at least he was sure.
"Damon?" Cynno asked, stirring Damon out of his thoughts. "Do you have anything you wish to say?"
"Only that I'm sorry for your loss," Damon said before shifting into his wolf form. Cynno chuckled.
"How presumptuous of you," he said. Damon hoped he wasn't right. Without another word, Cynno left the center of the ring that the other wolves had formed around them, replaced by Syler. The young wolf’s lip curled back, revealing larger fangs than Damon would've guessed, and Damon couldn't help looking at his claws, which were long and unkempt and most likely dangerous as a result.
Damon moved into his most intimidating position, keeping his head low and his fangs bared, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Strangely, something inside seemed to trigger, something instinctual and primal that he had spent many years repressing. It was his Alpha nature, something he’d previously been afraid of, which gave him the strength he would need to see this battle through. That realization struck away his lingering fear. He exchanged looks with Rhys one last time, hoping that his eyes said everything that he wanted to say, all of the emotion that swirled within him, and before he knew what was happening, Syler had lunged at him.
Damon dashed out of the way, his claws skidding across the stones beneath them, and Syler landed with a thud beside him. Before Syler could collect himself, Damon attacked, using all of his strength to make himself into an unstoppable mass of force. He crashed into Syler’s side and sent him rolling away with a surprised whimper. He got back to his feet quickly, however, and didn't waste any time in lunging at Damon again. Damon easily sidestepped it once more, and realized that Syler was playing with him, trying to wear Damon down, because he didn't have the strength to overpower him. If that was the case, Damon knew it would behoove him to stay put as much as possible to conserve his energy.
This time, when Syler attacked, Damon consciously moved just enough to dodge the attack. Syler's claws brushed his shoulder but didn't draw blood, and Damon growled his disapproval. It had been a cheap, easy shot, one that Damon could've avoided if he wanted to, but he was thankful that there wasn't any injury as a result. He would have to be more careful—and maybe more aggressive.
Syler crouched down, his fangs bared, and leaped right for Damon's face. Damon ducked, and as Syler soared overhead, he leaped up and dug his claws into Syler’s stomach, snatching him out of the air. A growl mixed with a whimper echoed throughout the small ring of wolves around them as the two spun across the stones, Syler's blood painting them as they did.
The wound hadn't been deep, not nearly as deep as Damon had intended, but it had done enough damage to slow Syler down. Damon jumped off of him, just barely dodging Syler’s jaws as they clamped around the air where Damon's throat had previously been, and readied himself for another defensive move. Syler got back to his feet, much lower this time thanks to his injuries, and growled at Damon. However, he did not attack again. He seemed to have understood Damon’s strategy and realized that he couldn't beat Damon that way.
In a rush of courage, perhaps recklessness, Damon charged at Syler. His opponent tried to sidestep, but it wasn't fast enough, and Damon crashed into the smaller wolf with all of his strength. But it was too much force and sent them both sprawling across the stones, which flew in the air around them, and the wolves that watched the fight jumped aside as they tumbled into the crowd. When they came to a stop, Damon was on top of Syler, and could have easily finished the fight right then and there, but something held him back.
He didn't want to become a killer, though he’d known it would be necessary. However, now that the moment had arrived, he found himself unable to go through with it. It would've been so easy, all he had to do was clamp down on this wolf’s throat and remove it the same way he’d done once before, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want to see this wolf harmed. It was silly, ridiculous even, that they had to fight this way to win the favor of the Packless.
With a snarl, Syler lunged forward, shoving Damon off of him and reversing their position such that Syler was on top with Damon's throat dangerously exposed. Where Damon had hesitated, Syler did not, but Damon was lucky in that he was able to roll away and out from under Syler, who clamped down on nothing more than stones.
"Enough with the foot play!" A wolf jeered from the crowd. Clearly, they had lost interest in watching an even fight. They wanted blood, much more than they had already been given. In that moment, Damon regretted his mercy, wishing that he had done what needed to be done. He'd come into this fight ready and willing to do whatever was necessary, and when the moment had presented itself, he'd failed. Yet again.
Not anymore, not again, he promised himself. If and when he managed to pin Syler beneath him again, he would give the wolf no chance to fight back. Syler rushed him, fueled by the words of the spectators, and just before their bodies made contact Damon jumped straight up into the air soaring over Syler who skidded to a stop beneath him. Without giving Syler a moment to recover, as soon as Damon landed, he dashed forward and bowled into Syler once more, clamping down on the tough, muscled flesh above his shoulder and using all of the strength in his jaws to tear away. The taste and warmth of blood filled Damon's mouth, triggering something wild within him. Syler's yelps of pain filled the air, but Damon paid them no mind. While Syler was injured and disoriented, a large portion of his shoulder now removed, Damon trotted to him, took one last look in the wolf's eyes and lunged at his throat.
When it was over, Damon stood heaving over the body of the wolf. He had to fight to keep control of himself and prevent his Alpha wolf from lashing out. It was a untamed, nearly unhinged feeling that he wasn’t aware he was capable of experiencing. As he gulped down air to keep himself rooted in reality, the wolves around him regarded him in fear, their eyes wide, as if they'd never seen something so gruesome before. A few looked as if they might charge in and take Syler's place until Cynno interrupted the silence.
"It's over!" Cynno called, and the ring of wolves around them tightened to keep them both safe from any sort of retaliation. Damon fell to his stomach, feeling sick with what he’d done and yet relieved too. He couldn't believe he’d won the battle, couldn’t believe that he’d killed another wolf. Syler didn't deserve it but Damon had had no choice. It was the way of the Packless, and Damon had played by their rules.
The Packless dragged away Syler's
body and Damon refused to look as they did so. The memory of what happened would haunt him forever, he was sure of it, and he knew he would never be the same again. He’d lost his innocence, a loss that was palpable, as if he could reach out and touch it as it carried away on the wind; an innocence that could never be regained. He was a wolf grown now, for better or worse.
A soft touch of hands on Damon’s shoulders made him jump and snarl. He realized it was Rhys and immediately shifted into his human form to throw his arms around his mate.
"I'm so sorry," Damon said, barely able to contain himself. Rhys gripped him tightly.
"There's no need to apologize, you did what was necessary," he said. Still, it offered Damon no relief. "They knew what the cost was, and they paid it. We've won their allegiance. If they didn't respect us before, they certainly will now," Rhys continued.
The ring of wolves thinned out, one by one, until nothing remained but Damon, Rhys, and the bloodied stones where a life had been taken. Damon tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing, that he had no other choice, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong, all wrong.
Somewhere off in the distance, enveloped in the darkness of night, a wolf began to howl. Damon could only assume that it was the family, or friends, of the wolf that he'd killed. He realized then that the outcome could have been much different, that it could have been Rhys crying for him had the battle gone a different way. It was not much consolation, but Damon took it anyway. He would live to see another day, and there would be more battles, many more of them, after this.
Rhys gripped his head between his hands and kissed Damon, and he remembered what it was that he had been fighting for in the first place.
Rhys
The morning after the battle, Rhys awoke to the early morning sun. Damon was beside him, their son bundled between them, and for a moment Rhys forgot the horror of the day before. Damon had not slept well, tossing and turning all night long, no doubt haunted by what he’d done. Rhys understood, but wished that Damon hadn't felt that way. He harbored no regret for the way that things had turned out. In fact, he was glad. He did not wish for the death of the young wolf named Syler but everyone who witnessed the fight knew what the ultimate cost would be.
Thankfully, Damon's restlessness hadn't disturbed the baby. Rhys watched him sleep, his little chest rising and falling with each breath, and took comfort in knowing that, at least for now, everything was settled. They were safe, and even if things did not go the way that Rhys wanted, they had the numbers of the Packless behind them.
When the battle was over, Damon had run to the beach to wash himself in the near-frozen water. Both the beach itself and the act of cleansing seemed to be comforting for Damon and Rhys didn't bother to go after him. He knew that Damon needed time alone, as Rhys would have if he’d been in the same situation.
Instead, he’d spent time with Cynno who told him that, despite Damon's victory, there were some wolves among the group who did not agree with the outcome of the battle. That made little sense to Rhys, as he assumed that the Packless saw everything in either black or white. Damon had clearly won the fight, therefore the decision was made. Rhys saw no room for dispute. Cynno, to his credit, agreed, he meant only to caution Rhys. Though they had participated in Packless customs, they were still outsiders in the eyes of the wolves, so a victory did not mean the same thing that it would have meant for a Packless wolf.
Despite that, Cynno had promised him he would do whatever he could to assuage the concerns of the rest of his wolves, and make sure that they fell in line. Rhys believed him, and was surprised to find that he had taken quite a liking to Cynno. They spent the next few hours discussing strategy, how they would handle an invasion by the Black Claws or any other wolves, and how they would go about their counterattack.
Though Rhys wanted to be in control, he understood that in order for things to go as smoothly as possible, he had to allow Cynno the command of the operation. He seemed to be the only wolf that the remaining Packless would listen to, though not all of them were on his side. It reminded Rhys of a similar power struggle he'd seen in his own pack between his father and Sayer Northstar. He remembered all too well how that had turned out, so he trusted Cynno to hold up his end of the bargain.
"Good morning," Damon said, making Rhys's eyes snap up to his own. He’d woken up without Rhys noticing.
"Good morning, my love," Rhys said, hoping his words would soothe Damon’s soul. A faint smile appeared on Damon's face, but it didn't last long.
"Did you sleep well?" Damon asked.
"I did, but I know you didn't. Damon, I hope you understand that you did what you had to do and that I don't think any differently of you because of it," Rhys said and Damon rolled onto his back to stare up at the sky.
"I'm glad to hear that, but that's not my concern," he said after a brief moment of silence between them.
"Then what is?" Rhys asked.
"I'm a murderer. I killed a wolf who didn't deserve to die to save my own hide. What does that make me?" he asked, more of the sky than of Rhys.
"It makes you the kind of wolf who fights for what he believes in," Rhys said. "It makes you the kind of wolf who is worthy of respect, who in fact commands it." Silence fell between them again until Rhys reached across their child and rested his hand on Damon's chest. Under the skin, Damon's heart was hammering away, as if he were still in the thick of the battle, and Rhys wondered if he had been reliving the fight all night long in his dreams.
"Then why doesn't it feel that way?" Damon asked.
"These ways are not our ways," Rhys said, more aware of that fact now than ever. He understood why the mainland packs considered the Packless to be savages. The practice that they had undergone the night before was barbaric at best. "But just because we played their game doesn't make us any different than we were before. You yourself said that we had to fight for what we need and want from them, and you did."
"You're right, I did. I just didn't think it would cost me this much," Damon said.
"You're not like the other Alphas, Damon. You never were. That’s what I treasure about you most and it’s still there, I see it in your eyes even as we speak. I'm sorry that this is causing you anguish, but this is what it means to go to war. You must hold on to what makes you the wolf that you are. It won't get any easier to do from here," Rhys said.
"And that's what gives me pause," Damon said, finally turning his eyes back to Rhys's. "I can't help wondering if we're doing the right thing. I love you, and I love our son, but is that really worth all of this? Could we not sit down and talk with my brother like civilized wolves?"
"Damon, I know this pains you. It hurts me as well, but you already know the answer to that question. You've always known the answer to that question," Rhys said. "I saved you from your brother, I saw what he wanted to do to you. Survival is never pretty and it's never easy. For one to survive, another must die. For what it's worth, I'm glad that we are the ones still alive." Before Damon had the chance to speak again, Rhys moved closer to him, such that they were shoulder to shoulder with their son nestled between them. He wrapped an arm around Damon's waist and pressed his forehead to Damon's.
"We did this for him. We did this because we had to," Rhys said and after a moment Damon nodded his agreement.
"I know. You're right, I shouldn't have any remorse about what I did, but that doesn't make it go away."
"It doesn't have to. In fact, maybe it shouldn't go away. Maybe that remorse is what separates us from those who would see us killed," Rhys said. "If we didn't take pause at the idea of killing others, would we really be any different from your brother and those who follow him?"
"No," Damon said simply.
"We’ve spoken before of the new world that we seek to build. As horrible as war is, it's a necessary step toward building that world. Hopefully, when the war is won—and I have no doubt we will win—our new world will have no more use for war and bloodshed."
"I hope you
're right," Damon said.
"I know I'm right because we will make it so," Rhys said. "It isn't just us that we’re fighting for. Think of all of the wolves who have already given their lives for our cause, of Knox and Lux who believed in us long before we believed in ourselves. If for no other reason, we have to make sure this happens for their sakes. I won't let their deaths be in vain," Rhys said and something seemed to shift in Damon's eyes.
"Thank you," Damon said. "I needed to hear that. I needed to be reminded of what’s at stake."
"You will never be alone in this," Rhys said, and no sooner had he finished his words then their son cooed, making he and Damon both smile. "See, even he wants you to know that."
"He's amazing," Damon said as he stroked the child's cheek. "It's past time we decided on a name for him."
"I agree. Have you thought of anything?" Rhys asked.
"What if we named him Juno, after your father?" Damon asked and Rhys's heart swelled. It was a lovely sentiment, but it didn't seem right. Their child was not the product of Rhys alone, he was the product of the both of them, and Rhys wanted the name to reflect that.
"That's sweet of you to suggest, but it doesn't cover everything. What if we named him Jaeno?" Rhys asked, and Damon's face turned as bright as the sky above.
"I like that. It represents both the light and dark of both of our families," Damon said. "Jaeno it is." The baby boy squealed at that, and Rhys knew immediately that it was perfect. Together, they laid as a family, and Rhys took comfort in knowing that they had each other, no matter what else happened. Truthfully, the war had just begun, and Rhys knew that he stood to lose much in the battles to come, but he couldn't think about that now. He could only think about his mate and his son.
When the warmth of the sun had enveloped them all, and the wolves in the camps around them began to stir, Rhys felt encouraged by the start of a new day. Cynno sent for them not long after, and as a group, Rhys, Damon, Kaster, and Eleo met under the tent that served as Cynno's living quarters.