Auren had never been more suffocated by beauty.
The entire island sparkled under the afternoon sun, perfumed gardens overflowing with blossoms, noble guests swaying in gowns and coats sewn with jewels. Music drifted across the sand, laughter rippling like waves, and everywhere he turned, someone was waiting to greet him.
The star of the show. The last-born son of Fenvaros. They came with perfect bows and shallow words. After he was dressed up in the silk garments, he was brought out here to the islands focal point. There Auren saw the large dome tent, it shimmered with lights and decorations.
"Gorman do I have to?" Auren asked exhausted before he even got in.
"Apologies, but you do. It is our Fenrir clan rite." Gorman answered respectfully.
Auren glared at him for a few seconds before he turned to face the tent entrance. Auren took a deep breath and walked in, his left hand stayed in his pocket, fiddling with Zevaros' token. There was an announcement of his entry, he first greeted his father who looked dashing.
His black hair was combed back with perfection and his navy blue suit hugged his frame in a way that made other women envy his mother. Auren saw his mother from afar,busy chatting with other women, she looked gorgeous with a form fitting navy blue dress matching Fenvaros.
At the far corner stood his four older brothers. They all looked handsome, Raelith wore black, Caelith wore white, Vorren wore gray and Rai'en wore red, pulling it off quite well. Auren now understood why he was not in a suit but rather a set of purple-gold silk robes. Before he could approach his brothers, the random nobles appeared.
"Congratulations, young master."
" Allow me to introduce my alpha daughter…"
" My Alpha son has trained under the finest tutors…"
The smiles were wide. Their eyes sharp. Every introduction, every compliment, every toast all of it was a currency, traded like goods in a market. Auren listened, nodded when he must, his pale face calm, his posture impeccable. But inside, he felt like prey in a pit of jackals. [All these fuckers just think I'll agree?]
At some point, as another baron pressed his alpha daughter forward with a simpering smile, Auren let his imagination slip. He pictured the man's head rolling into the sand, blood soaking into the jeweled hem of the girl's gown. He pictured silence, screams cut short, the entire crowd erased by a single sweep of his blade.
The thought made him smile. [Death looks good on them.] The baron thought Auren found his daughter suitable and started talking more and more.
Across the gathering, Caelith chuckled darkly. "I win."
The siblings stood together, watching from the edge of the chaos. They had made a bet before Auren even arrived.
Raelith, elegant and poised, had claimed Auren would ignore everyone entirely. Vorren, sharp-eyed and calculating, said he would vanish, hide in the shadows like a ghost. Rai'en, his sly smile familiar, said Auren would mimic their father in a cold, regal, untouchable way. But Caelith? He had wagered that Auren would mentally kill them all.
And he was right.
"Always the little wolf," Caelith drawled, smirk curling. "Predictable."
Raelith scoffed but smiled too. "At least he's consistent in his ways."
Vorren muttered, "I still think he'll run off before the evening's done."
"Mm," Rai'en hummed in thought. "No. He'll stay. Just wait."
How did they know? Because each of them had endured the same. The charade of nobles, the false warmth, the endless smiles with knives behind them. Each of their eighteenth birthdays had been just like this. It's just that Auren's came earlier at seventeen.
Vorren had hidden on his day, shying away from every person introduced to him. Raelith had ignored every single person except his parents. Rai'en had acted like their father and glared at all nobles.
And Caelith… Caelith had actually killed a minor noble that day. No one spoke of it openly, but the shadow of it lingered. That's why there are so many rumours about his red eyes and black fur. Auren lasted longer than any of them expected. He kept his posture straight, endured the introductions, even accepted a goblet of wine he did not drink. The day stretched like a blade pulled taut, gleaming, unbroken.
And then at last, evening fell.
When the sun sank, so did the noise. By command of his mother, the island was cleared. Nobles dismissed, merchants banished, their ships carrying them back across the glittering sea. What remained was family and those few servants who were more shadow than staff, loyal and silent.
The moment it ended, Auren had ran to his room. He removed those annoying robes and lay on his bed face down and sighed in relief. His silver tail wagged with small tugs of happiness. His ears twitched at the sound of boats left, leaving only the sound of waves.
A servant came and alerted him to join his family by the beach. Auren agreed and said he would be there shortly. The bonfire burned bright on the beach, sparks scattering into the night sky. The moons rose one by one, their silver light gilding the waves.
Auren came and sat among his family, now dressed in simple clothes, silk robes traded for comfort. His brothers lounged in the sand, laughter softer now, stripped of politics. The firelight caught their faces, painting each in shades of memory and blood. Ears and tails became the language of the night for a while.
Rai'en, the second youngest, leaned forward. At twenty-one, he was closest to Auren in age, though his easy grin and sharp wit often made him seem older. His dragon tail wagged behind him in weird excitement.
"Do you remember my eighteenth birthday?" Rai'en asked suddenly, eyes flickering with mischief.
Auren blinked, tilting his head. He did remember albeit vaguely.
"Your birthday was held at the castle," Auren said slowly. "There were endless lines of people presenting their Omegas to you. You just kept on glaring, ignoring all of them. Then you disappeared. By evening the halls were empty, just like now."
Rai'en's grin widened. "And do you remember what happened next?"
Auren frowned. He dug through the haze of memory. There had been something, a circle etched in light, glowing beneath Rai'en's feet. A pulse in the air, heavy, ancient. A presence that had been his brother's but also not him, had filled him, bursting outward like flame. After that, there had been more celebration, though different darker, more reverent.
"I remember a runic circle," Auren said at last. "And something waking in you."
Rai'en laughed. "Good. At least you were paying attention, little wolf."
Vorren stirred, his voice quiet but carrying. "You should know why the eighteenth year is important. Why it is different for us. And why it's different for you, yours is happening now at seventeen. This is why Mother went so far this time."
Auren turned toward him, brows furrowing.
Vorren's eyes gleamed like knives in the firelight. "Because the eighteenth year is when a Therion receives the awakening of their respective gender traits."
The bonfire had burned low, its orange glow flickering across the dark waves that kissed the shore. Sparks leapt upward toward the twin moons, caught for a breath in their light before dissolving into nothing.
Auren sat there, his hands clasped in his lap, the warmth of the fire doing little to ease the cold coil that had taken residence in his stomach since Vorren's words. Eighteen. The number had felt arbitrary until this very night. [But I'm seventeen.]
His confusion lingered like smoke, and it was Seraphina, his mother, who chose to cut through it. She sat across from him, posture flawless as always, her silver hair flowing loose in the night breeze. Her cerulean eyes softened when they landed on him, though her voice carried the authority of someone who had shouldered both power and truth long before him.
Seraphina spoke, "Auren, my son, the family seer said yours would arrive today that's why we called you away from school."
The word landed like a stone in the circle.
Auren stilled. His confusion deepened. [Gender traits? I already am an Omega. Was this some metaphor, some hidden tradition, something only Therions can understand?]
But looking at his siblings, the firelight dancing across their faces, he saw the weight in their eyes. The seriousness. This was not a jest. This was something real. Something profound.
And it was coming for him.