by J. K. Jones
“Lead the way, Alpha.”
Chapter 5
The servants scurry out of the way like rats.
Micah strides towards his home, a large mansion crest upon a hilltop. The grounds are traditional, decorative. They whisper and sneer, each of them looking onwards with concern as their Alpha leads an Omega towards his bed chambers.
Ryu says nothing.
His mind miles and miles away. How were they going to find a cure? What happens when it becomes too late? These thoughts torment him.
For a while, he keeps quiet, following Micah towards his bedroom. White sage—the smell is so strong; it nearly knocks him over. For years, he loved that scent. It meant safety, it meant home. Now, it makes him feel cold with anguish.
“Come.” Micah hands him a drink of wine. “Drink.”
Ryu downs it quickly. “We need to act fast.”
“I have devised a plan. The only matter is bringing it to the council.”
“That could take weeks.” Ryu slams the cup down. “Those old goats wouldn’t know their assholes from a hole in the ground. We need to act.”
“You are tired. Rest.” Micah says. “I will sleep in the adjacent room.”
This was all too much.
Micah brought him here for a reason. He told him about Amaya for a reason. Ryu refuses to believe it was all for nothing. They’ve known each other too long for that. If this disease is spreading at an alarming rate, then he’s confident Micah had a plan or at least some semblance of one.
“Don’t dismiss me,” Ryu spits violently. “I’m not something you can easily get rid of Micah. I know you. What are you plotting?”
Micah's eyes flash with ire. “Tomorrow.”
“Now,” Ryu says. “I want to know now.”
“Ryu.”
He ignores him, strutting around his bedroom looking at his things. The room itself is lavish, the drapes expensive, décor gleaming and streaming, glittery red and gold. Ryu sways his hips in a way he knows is tantalizing, releasing his scent. On the table he sees it, his heart squeezes painfully in his chest.
A bracelet.
Not an ordinary one. This one was very special. It was the one Ryu made for him when they first announced they were going to be mates. The memory twists like a knife in his throat. It’s made of the simple red thread; Ryu didn’t have money for fineries back then.
Micah wore that bracelet for years afterward.
Even on the day the council sentenced Ryu into exile. The memory suddenly turns sour—curdles in his mouth like spoiled milk.
“Why did you bring me here?”
“You are my Second,” Micah answers quietly.
“Ha! That means nothing,” Ryu responds coldly. “Why did you bring me to your bedroom? Is that one of your other conditions? Or did you just want to fuck me like you did when we were kids?”
Micah recoils as if slapped.
Ryu smirks, he found a wound, now time to claw it open. “Oh.” He taps his chin pensively. “That’s it. Oh, righteous Alpha hasn’t had a good fuck? Must be hard for a block of ice.”
His face hardens. “You are tired. Goodnight.”
Micah leaves then, face stony and eyes blanketed in crossness. Ryu watches him leave, feeling haughty and irritated all at once.
He knows less now than he did before.
Ryu sits down on the bed, his stomach suddenly in knots. How was he supposed to sleep here? The smell alone made him sick. Tomorrow he would emerge from this room smelling like Micah.
Oh.
Of course—that was his intention the whole time. If Ryu smells like his Alpha, then claiming Ryu as his Second would not come as a shock. The council would know, just by walking past him. This would keep most of the heat off him and onto the matters at hand.
It’s a good idea. Micah surely thought this one through.
If they didn’t put up too much of a fuss, then they could start looking for a cure. Ryu laid down on the bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes.
The second he closed his eyes he was asleep.
-
Ryu rose early the next morning.
He went to Vuneas, Goddess of The Sky, shrine, quietly slipping through the Torii, remembering to cleanse at the Purification trough. Ryu offers prayers and offerings at dawn, hoping against hope that the Goddess would hear him this time.
It’s been many years since he came here.
However, he finds that it is still kept in the same condition it was before he left. This place always felt like a sanctuary for him, especially when things got too rough at home.
Although Amaya loved him dearly, her family did not.
Alhazred was especially ruthless to him when the occasion arose. He did everything he could to make sure Ryu knew he would never be wanted here.
Tears sting his eyes again and he feels himself falling into a deep pit of despair. Not her. Anyone but her. In his heart, he did not want to give up hope.
For years he was nothing more than a lowly Omega, destined to the slums and a life of servitude before being sold to the highest bidder.
Amaya had saved him from all of that.
Her kindness and love were the reason he continued to go on, even after everything with Micah happened. Ryu spends several more hours there, bowing and praying to the Goddess.
Ryu’s head ached something fierce by the time he left, and he had no idea how or when he would regain his memories. Something in him was missing. He just didn’t know what.
By the time he returns Micah is waiting for him.
Today he dresses in sky blue silk pants with a matching kimono cardigan, the color accentuating his dark skin.
“Come,” he says. “The council has gathered.”
Chapter 6
Ryu loathes them.
Spineless sycophants, the worst of the worst. Greedy fucks with no care for the people’s needs. The Silvercrest Howlers were of the old world, they did everything with immense discussion and immaculate planning.
If one were to build a bridge, they would spend weeks upon weeks discussing the merits of such a bridge. What benefit would it bring? Who would cover the cost? How does one measure the life of a bridge? Such things were beyond meaningless.
Yet, it was the way of the pack. The oldest was the wisest and one must seek council from them. This is why Ryu would have never been good at being Micah’s Second. They could never get along.
In the woodlands, amidst the humble rocky plains is a mansion. The bay windows are large, like shy eyes, welcoming rays of sunlight. The walls painted a royal red as if perchance it grows upright from hallowed ground. It’s a spiral staircase, almost like a ladder to heaven’s gates, the dual doors heavily laden with gold, its very existence to shelter those that dare to dwell within.
Ryu inhales the woodland air, feeling a strong sense of home.
They enter the hall of Kings.
Its large and open, the wood beams decorated with the clan colors white and red, streamers fall from the ceilings. The King's throne isn’t ostentatious; the stairs lead up to a small wooden chair, the Silvercrest is minimalist at heart. There is a small group of men, most of them dressed in business clothes, ready to go about their day.
This place is named the hall of Kings after Micah’s father.
A fearless Alpha named Michael McCorbyn, however, the people affectionately called him Yasuaki. The name came from an African slave brought to Japan in 1579 by the Jesuit missionary Alessandro Valignano. He was called to an audience with Oda Nobunaga, the most powerful warlord of the day; Nobunaga was so impressed by Yasuaki’s strength and size that he made him his retainer and bodyguard. There is a rumor Michael was his direct descendant.
The Silvercrest Howlers held the deepest respect for Michael, referring to him as the most righteous of Alphas. Ryu knew the man personally and could say without fail that they were correct.
Micah strides into the room first.
By rank, Ryu follows closely behind, then afterward
Trmon and Deryn. It’s an awkward affair, most of the council staring wide-eyed and jaw-slacked at Ryu.
The minute Micah sits down heavily upon his chair, they whisper heartily amongst themselves.
“So, it’s true,” someone whispers frantically. “Ryu—Kuroi Kage—has returned.”
“And not a moment too soon it looks like,” someone else responds.
“He smells like his Alpha—so it has been consummated?”
“It is his right by law.”
Micah raised his hand in the air, effectively silencing them.
“Let us begin,” Micah says, commanding the room. “The disease is spreading. I’ve gotten word this morning three more people are showing symptoms. At this rate, once they turn, we will be overrun.”
“Byakuren,” A man steps forward and bows deeply. “Let me dispatch a team. There are talks in the east of medicine created by the Blackfang Hounds—”
“You would have us take medicine from the Blackfang Hounds?” Deryn demands coldly.
“I would have us help our people,” the man says turning back towards Micah.
“And what?” Deryn continues. “Have those shits spit in our faces? Have you forgotten how they slaughter our sisters and wives in a fruitless vendetta? Or are you choosing to be numb to their suffering as well? Bring the Blackfang Hounds here, I will kill them all myself.”
Ryu feels another headache coming on.
All the clans have been at war for centuries. None found peace with the others. If one decided on a temporary peace, the other would surge in rebellion. The only clans that managed an easier truce were the richest and most powerful clans. The wealthiest clan was the Thunder Hunters, most of their funds came from investments and building markets on capitalism and gentrifying the lower slums of other clans.
The second richest is the Silvercrest Howlers, specializing in agriculture, growing crops and goods distributing them through farming and trades. The third richest clans were the Impure Canines, usually the most rational of the clans, they specialized in coal industrialization and mining expeditions, manufacturing factory jobs for their people.
The lowest clan was the Blackfang Hounds, they usually made their money through mischief and undercutting, choosing to make most of their profit through stealing from their own companies. Things were peaceful between the Silvercrest Howlers and the Blackfang Hounds for centuries, until a councilman from the Silvercrest Howlers stole the Alpha’s Omega in the middle of the night. Afterward, she was found raped and brutalized, and in an unceasing and unappeasable furor, the Blackfang Hound Commander Wulfrun hunted the man down and slaughtered him and his wife. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, came to the Silvercrest Howlers clan and killed all the wives and daughters he could get his hands on. Things only got worse from there.
Michael declared war on the Blackfang Hounds. Only when Wulfrun was dead, his wolf body torn to shreds, did they finally call for a truce. Deryn’s sister had been one of the murder victims.
“Alpha,” the man beseeched. “They are not all bad. To paint all with one brush would be wrong and unjust. My sister’s in-law’s family is from there—”
“Enough,” Deryn cut in boorishly. “I will hear no more of this foolishness. They are not to be trusted. Plain and simple. We will find another way.”
The man huffs and nods, before stepping away from the throne.
“Alpha.” Randolph steps forward, dips his head low in his bow.
Ryu’s heart jumps. It’s been many years since he’s seen his old friend. Randolph looks roughly the same, his hair is long and lustrous, with several grays peaking at his hairline. He winks mischievously at Ryu and he bites his lip to hide his smile.
“Speak my friend,” Micah replies easily.
“For many years we have been at war with the Filthy Claws, and although we have had our differences in the past,” Randolph begins, “due to your bravery, we have finally seen an end to the bloodshed, having them finally brought to their knees and under our heels.”
The Filthy Claws were the last and most impoverished of the clans. They primarily lived-in slums, surviving off the scraps and decaying agriculture. Michael sought to bring them back from the brink, teaching them how to survive and build farms. Their occupation of the Filthy Claws clan was peaceful at first. However, after several years the people grew restless, wondering why they must toil in the dirt and mud, while the generals of the Silvercrest Howlers lived in Palaces.
A rebellion started. Then another and another until the Silvercrest encampment was overrun with riots and vicious wolves. Then the conscriptions happened. Michael thought it best to take the strongest boys from the clans and force them into servitude, so that they may learn their ways and take them back to their clan.
Ryu happened to be one of them.
After the men were conscripted, those that were left rioted and rebelled, setting the largest groups to storm Silvercrest to get their people back. However, Michael remained unmoved, certain he was doing the right thing; he sent his men to slaughter those that revolted.
The wars between Filthy Claws and Silvercrest lasted ten years.
Michael died in the war. Yet, Micah took up the torch soon after. They prevailed and finally brought the Filthy Claws to heel. Henceforth, Micah became Byakuren, White Lotus, a beacon of hope due to his radiance and victory in battle, the title spread quickly and affectionately amongst the ranks. There's been peace between the two clans for many years.
The councilmen praised their Alpha, most of them cheering Micah on.
“Alpha, I have heard of a divine being,” he says quietly. “They call him Master of the Moon. He is said to cure disease and to wear many faces—a necromancer, a wandering immortal. I’ve been given a vision by Vuneas, Goddess of The Sky, and I believe it to be true.”
“I have heard of him as well,” another councilman spoke up. “This divine being is said to be a monk that’s been in Yamato near mount Horai for centuries. He will grant one wish to someone pure of heart—to work through them as a vessel. For the Gods to carry out their plans, they need human vessels. For dark Gods, it is usually someone who has gone through immense pain or suffering, for Gods of goodness it is someone pure of heart. Who else but our Byakuren is the purest of them all?”
Ryu’s heart jumps. Finally, a solution.
“Alpha,” another councilman chimes in. “I agree with this prophecy. We must act quickly. My only concern is who will take on such an expedition? You are needed here, the Blackfang Hounds get bolder and bolder each passing day.”
“If not our Alpha then who else?” Deryn demands. “We cannot risk being turned away. If it requires someone of a pure heart, there is no-one else.”
“I agree,” Randolph responds. “A small band of men perhaps? No more than twelve of your strongest and most trusted wolves. We should enlist the other clans to send men as well. That way it can strengthen our ties. We can appoint Zy, my son, as acting Alpha in your absence. He did so well the last time.”
Micah nods and then stands gracefully. “Then it is decided. Gather as much information as you can on this Master of the Moon, and we will head out at dusk.”
They all bow as Micah strides confidently out of the room.
Ryu stays behind, his own emotions warring with him as he takes it all in. They were going to find a cure it seems.
And it also seems Micah has no intention of taking him along.
Chapter 7
Ryu lingers in the hall.
His thoughts in disarray. There is no way he is being left behind. The idea is inconceivable. What would happen to Amaya? Was he to be left here alone with a pack that hated him?
No. Not in this lifetime.
Ryu grows frustrated. After all that debating, they still had to wait before they would amass enough forces to leave. If he was on his own, he would have been gone by now.
He stares at the throne, remembering a time where Michael would sit them down and tell them stories of the greatest pack warriors
that ever lived. Ryu always wanted to be the best, the strongest out of the bunch, however, there were rarely any stories about powerful Omegas.
He recalls the day he vowed to be one of them. That was so long ago.
Ryu turns away from the throne, face drawn in exhaustion. Being back here rattles him, unsettles his core to the point where he can physically feel all their malevolence.
He doesn’t belong here. Never did.
Amaya was the only one who made being here bearable.
He will need to speak to Micah privately about leaving with them, he could not be left here alone. He would do everything he could to bring the cure back to her and make sure she was kept safe.
“Omega slut,” a voice snarls behind him.
A hand fists his hair savagely, yanking his head back.
Ryu cries out, pain erupting all over his skull due to his previous head injury. His vision blurs, he nearly faints with the surge of agony rolling through him.
Fuck—he tries to move, but the hand in his hair is immobile.
“You dare come around Micah with the stench of another Alpha on you?” The man grunts, twisting the hair in his grip. “Have you no shame?”
Ryu breathes harshly, eyes wide with panic.
This person is strong. Silent enough to get the drop on Ryu. However, Ryu knows a few tricks himself and he won’t easily be subdued. He rips his dagger out of its holster, holding it tightly to the man’s stomach. “Let go.”
The man snorts derisively, before releasing him.
Ryu stumbles, catching himself before he falls over. He turns around quickly, breath caught in his throat. What the fucking hell?
Deryn stands there with five men, all of them with mounting hatred.
“Just looking at you makes me sick.”
“You’re just mad he got to me first,” Ryu sneers, pointing the dagger.
Deryn chuckles darkly. “You think just because he named you his Second, you’ll be protected? No-one forgets what you did, Ryu. Everyone remembers. The minute he comes to his senses you’ll be dead meat. Mark my words.”
