Author's POV.
The elder's words unsettled Maltin. His expression hardened at their intuition, but he remained calm, refusing to give their suspicions any ground.
The Elders were not allies, not truly. They were watchers, keepers of ancient laws, bound more to tradition than to loyalty. Their allegiance was to him, not to any Alpha, but to the preservation of order.
If they discovered that a human had crossed into the Lycan realm, especially one brought in by their Alpha—it would raise questions. Dangerous ones. And Maltin did not tolerate being questioned.
The words were unexpected. Their insight had come too close, too sharp. And if by any indications they find out about the girl, it will not just put her in danger; it will also stir commotion against him within the council. He had failed the pack in the past, and any misstep he takes will be a vital issue that cannot be forgiven. Being termed an unfit alpha isn't an impression he would want to give to his people.
"Perhaps it is merely the weight of the war," Maltin said evenly, his voice steady despite the unease beneath it.
"The inimical situation of the pack reflects in my presence," he added, before diving into the major subject that brought him to their tenet.
"So far, with the help of the priestess," he continued, "we've been able to establish a protective impediment that shields the pack, and prevents the demon skewers from breaching into our borders."
A faint murmur passed between the cloaked figures before he continued. "And we have also been able to slow the frequency of the attacks from the rogue packs.""Slow?" one of the elders interrupted, his tone edged with quiet displeasure. "Alpha Maltin, rogue packs should not pose a significant challenge to you. Why are they still a concern?"
"You are right, Elder Zhao," Maltin replied, his voice calm but firm. "Under normal circumstances, they are not. But these, unfortunately, are not normal circumstances. The chamber seemed to grow colder as Maltin continued with his words.
"The rogue packs attacking us are increasing in number each passing day. And their strengths increase. Meanwhile, we weaken—a sign from the curse." A silence followed.
"The malediction of the Moon Goddess bore deeper into our core than anticipated," he added. "A significant portion of my powers was stripped from me as a result of that—and by extension, the strength of the pack itself." The weight of his words settled heavily in the chamber.
"We are all aware of this. They get more powerful, and we get weaker," he finished quietly.
Another elder spoke, his voice lower and more calculating. "Then there is no path to victory, no hope of survival since we can't defeat them?"
Maltin's brows twitched slightly, the only sign of pressure mounting within him.
"Are we to assume," the Elder continued, "that extinction is inevitable?
For a brief moment, silence stretched, tension rose, and hope was held only by a thin thread. Maltin knew that it all lay on his shoulders; he was the hope of his people, and accepting defeat would only be an answer that would shatter their expectancy. Trepidation would rule the pack, fear would become an interminable guest to his people, and the warriors would lose the courage to fight against their enemies.
No. He wouldn't let that happen. He has to stand strong, give them hope even when it looks like all is lost. He played a part in the mayhem that befalls this pack and must make sure that the storm will still. It is his duty to lead and protect the pack, after all, and that he must attain.
Maltin inhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I understand how concerned you are," he said at last. "And I do not deny my role in the circumstances we now face.
His grew firmer. "But I have made a promise to the pack, and I intend to keep it."
The elders remained still, listening.
"I will find a way to change this fate, no matter the cost."
A faint rustle came from the raised platform as the eldest among them leaned forward slightly.
"We do not doubt your resolve, Alpha," the Elder said. "But you leave us with no choice, for determination alone will not save our people." His voice carried the weight of centuries.
"What we're more concerned about is the well-being of the pack. If this continues, in no time, we will be faced with extinction. Time is what we do not have. You must find a way to save our people before it's too late," the elder finished.
"And I will do everything possible to see that the pack survives." Maltin declared.
Another minute of silence lingered in the chamber before the elder concluded.
"Very well then, we place our hopes in you." His voice was faint, almost solemn. "May the moon goddess grant you mercy." The world lingered, and Maltin gave a short nod.
"I will take my leave now. I am returning to the Eastern coast." He replied before he turned and left.
*********
Maltin walked out of the chamber and into the main hall of the fortress. The air outside the ancient chambers of the elders felt lighter, and the familiar structures offered a little comfort.
He stopped at the center of the hall, his golden eyes darkening as his thoughts sharpened into something more deliberate. He needed answers.
What he felt around the girl. What the elders had sensed. The shift in his aura, the sudden pull he could not explain—it was not imagination. It was real.
If what he felt could also be sensed by the elders, then it's no madness; these feelings will be far beyond his control if this strange girl keeps having these effects on him. And her looks—there is something anomalous about her looks. She doesn't look ordinary, and there is more to her presence; it is not a mere coincidence. His very end is near, and he needs her to attain that, to free his people.
But how will he handle this? How will he make her stay? Who could she be?
He needed answers.