Ravhiel's wheelchair came to a gradual stop. The soft crunch of gravel faded, and silence returned—save for the distant hum of wind brushing through trees and the quiet thrum of Luna's nerves.
He turned himself slowly to face her.
Luna took an instinctive step back. Her eyes darted around the clearing like a cornered animal. The scent of grass and flowers was still in the air, sweet and unfamiliar, but it did nothing to calm her.
'Should I run?' she thought, muscles twitching beneath her skin. 'There's only one human... and one werewolf in a wheelchair. I could outrun them.'
But then reality hit her like cold water.
'What about the others? The ones who dragged me here in the first place?'
Her shoulders tightened.
They could smell her fear. They could hear her heartbeat. They could follow her trail even through rivers, even through storms.
Even now, their eyes might be watching from the shadows.
'Even if I run... I don't even know where I am. I don't know these woods. They do.'
Her fists clenched at her sides, trembling. 'I'd be running blind.'
Then—unexpectedly—she heard something that cut through her spiral of thought.
Laughter.
Luna blinked, startled, turning sharply toward Ravhiel.
He wasn't laughing cruelly, not how the others did. It wasn't sharp or mocking. It was soft—almost amused.
Still, it annoyed her. 'Why the hell is he laughing?'
"W-Why are you laughing?" she asked, her voice tight. She tried to sound calm, confused even—making sure her irritation doesn't bleed through the cracks.
Ravhiel held up a hand apologetically, brushing a strand of black hair behind his ear. "Ah—apologies. I didn't mean to offend. It's just..." He gave a small, sheepish smile. "You asked a question, but the answer was already written all over your face."
Luna's brows furrowed.
'What?'
That threw her off.
Was she really that easy to read?
No—she couldn't be. If she were, someone—anyone—would've understood her by now. Would've made it harder for her. Would've seen past the walls she built to survive and attempt to break her.
But Ravhiel... there was something different about him. Something uncomfortably perceptive.
He smiled again, and it wasn't smug or superior. It was warm.
Gentle.
"But if you want to hear it from my mouth," he continued, "you're already imprisoned, aren't you? What good would it do to keep shackling someone who's already caged? If I must be part of this madness, I'd rather not treat others like animals."
He tilted his head. "I prefer to treat people... humanely."
'Humanely.'
The word echoed through Luna's mind like a stone dropped in still water.
It hurt.
More than it should have.
Because when was the last time anyone treated her with that kind of softness?
'Not since my parents died.'
Her chest tightened.
Her aunt and uncle were cruel. Them taking care of her was conditional. Transactional even. She'd had to earn her place every single day, and even then, it never really felt like hers. Never really felt like home.
She'd grown up learning how to survive, how to shrink herself, how to hold her tongue and be grateful for scraps.
She had dreamed of freedom.
And she got it.
Only to land here—hunted, dragged, chained again.
A different prison. A different leash.
"Luna?" Ravhiel's voice pulled her from the heaviness of her thoughts. His tone was quiet. Concerned.
"Are you ready to go?"
Luna hesitated, then slowly nodded. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "O-Okay..."
No—she didn't trust him.
But he was the only one here not actively treating her like a stray beast. For now, Ravhiel was her best chance. She had to observe him—study him. Maybe, just maybe, befriend him. And if he really was as open as he seemed, she could find out what she needed to escape.
Ravhiel smiled more brightly at her response, then turned and began wheeling forward again. "Good. I'm glad you decided not to run. Honestly, I was still debating whether you'd bolt."
He chuckled again. "Because once the Five find out you tried to escape again, they'd have your head—and mine."
He said it lightheartedly, but Luna felt a chill crawl up her spine.
He wasn't joking.
'Oh.'
She swallowed and quickened her pace slightly to walk beside him.
'This is my chance to learn more about those five. The ones who chased me. The ones who have to...'
Luna didn't even want to think of it.
Everyone treated them like royalty—or monsters. Maybe both.
They were a big deal. And Luna needed to understand why.
She walked a little closer. "I—I have a question... sir?"
Ravhiel turned his head slightly toward her. "No need for 'sir.' Just call me Ravhiel. Or Ravhi, if that's easier."
"Ravhiel," she echoed firmly. She didn't want to use a nickname—it felt too casual. "Can I... know more about those five werewolves who chased me? The big ones. Everyone seems to treat them like... a really big deal."
Her voice softened with caution. She didn't want to overstep.
But Ravhiel didn't have any sort of violent reaction.
Didn't frown.
Instead, he simply smiled again.
A strange smile.
"They're called the Five Ruling Males," Ravhiel began, his voice calm yet carrying weight, as he pushed the wheels of his chair forward. The path they took was silent but winding, leading back through the familiar scent of flowers and herbs that surrounded Ravhiel's little garden—faint now, like a memory drifting into the background.
The floral fragrance gave way to something heavier—earth, fur, sweat. Something distinctly feral.
"They're the five strongest alphas of this generation. I believe you already know they're all fighting for the title of Chief, yes?"
Luna gave a small nod. Her steps were light, but her heart felt heavier with each word. Ravhiel continued without missing a beat.
"Normally, there would only be one Alpha strong enough to rise above the rest. One chosen leader. But this generation was... different. It's unprecedented for five to rise with equal strength, each capable of leading. So instead of choosing one outright, the Elders split the Chief's responsibilities among them."
He glanced at her briefly, watching her absorb the information.
"Each one was given a role the Chief usually oversees alone. A test. A chance to prove their worth to the pack."
Luna frowned slightly, something still not sitting right with her. "But… what are alphas exactly? I-I mean… are there other roles? There are so many werewolves here... I can feel it. It's like the air itself is alive with them. But why only them? Why do only they get treated like royalty?"
Ravhiel's lips curled upward ever so slightly. "Good question," he said, and for some reason, his tone made Luna's face warm a little. She quickly looked away.
"In every werewolf pack, there are ranks," he explained. "Alphas, betas, deltas, gammas, and omegas. Alphas are the strongest—natural leaders. Omegas are the weakest. The lowest."
As he spoke, he gestured toward a cluster of figures in the distance—hunched, quiet, their energy dulled like dying embers. Unlike the towering builds of the Five or even Ravhiel himself, these werewolves were smaller, leaner, thinner... bruised.
"They're the omegas," he said simply.
Luna's eyes widened. Her stomach twisted.
"…Why do they look so… beaten up?" she whispered, horror creeping into her voice. As much as she feared werewolves—despised some of them even—it was still painful to see anyone so battered and broken.
Ravhiel's voice darkened, losing some of its warmth. "Because omegas aren't just the lowest—they're servants. To alphas. They cook, they clean, they run errands, they act as bait in hunts if asked... sometimes even worse. Whatever the alphas command, the omegas obey."
His tone was calm, but underneath it was something bitter. Heavy.
Luna couldn't look away from them. Most of the omegas didn't meet her eyes—but when they did, it was brief and full of tension. Fear. Avoidance. Some of them flinched. Others froze, as if she were a predator.
'They're scared of me...?' she realized, stunned. 'Why?'
"They can sense your strength," Ravhiel explained quietly beside her. "You may or may not be an alpha wolf, but your blood doesn't lie. To them, you're above them already. And in this place... the stronger always dominate the weaker."
His words echoed inside her like iron scraping against bone.
'That's… disgusting.' she thought, eyes flicking back to the bruised figures. 'How can alphas hurt their own kind? Just because they're stronger?'
She wanted to scream. To tell them this wasn't right. That strength shouldn't mean cruelty. But instead, she forced herself to look away. Her chest ached.
Just as her gaze dropped, though, someone caught her eye.
Among the silent, shrinking figures was a boy—brown hair that fell just past his brows, yellow eyes that burned with a quiet rage. He looked like an omega, but his posture was different. Not broken. Not afraid.
He was glaring straight at her.
Not in fear.
In defiance.
'Yes...' Luna thought, startled. 'Of course someone would be angry. It doesn't make sense for them all to take this lying down. But why... why is he looking at me like that?'
Before she could think further, Ravhiel's wheelchair suddenly stopped. She blinked, halting just behind him.
"What...?" she asked softly.
They had arrived at another part of the den, veiled by a tall wooden gate. It stood like a silent sentinel—old, worn, and heavily guarded by two large werewolves stationed at either side. The air here was colder, thicker. Like something sacred—or dangerous—lay beyond.
Ravhiel didn't speak right away. His expression had shifted.
He stared at the gate as if it were a threshold to something he didn't want to enter. His fingers gripped the wheels of his chair tighter than before.
"Luna," he began, voice lower now, almost hesitant, "I need you to prepare yourself for what you're about to see. And—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Try not to say anything that might anger him."
Luna's heart skipped.
'Him? Who is he talking about?'
But she nodded anyway, curiosity prickling alongside her anxiety. "O-Okay but… why?"
Ravhiel's jaw clenched. His face darkened like a cloud passing over sunlight.
"Because," he said quietly, "we're about to enter the Breeding Grounds. Rhaevos is here."
'Rhaevos? One of the five guys earlier...'