The throne room of Omnia glowed with the soft radiance of moonlight filtering through high windows. The light spilled across the floor in long, silver ribbons, illuminating the dust motes that danced in the stillness of the chamber. King Kallos sat leisurely upon his throne, his posture relaxed, draped in fine white silk that shimmered like fresh snow under the celestial glow. The fabric was so delicate it seemed to catch every breath of air, pooling around his legs in elegant folds. His long white hair was let down, cascading past his jaw to rest gently against his shoulders in a silken mane that matched the pristine hue of his tunic. He leaned his head against his hand, the gold rings on his fingers catching the light, scattering tiny, dancing reflections as he watched the man standing before him.
"Tell me, how did the Vicious Fangs Awakening go?" Kallos asked, his voice smooth with a hint of practiced boredom. He adjusted his position slightly.
Aodhan Vance stood at the base of the dais, posture straight yet relaxed. As Lord Commander of Omnia, he wore a high-collared midnight-blue jacket, its silver fastenings catching the light like stars against dark fabric. Tailored to his broad frame and cinched at the waist with a leather belt, the jacket fit perfectly. One hand rested loosely at his side, the other hovering near his belt—a gesture born of training, not tension. His boots gleamed like polished obsidian, and though his expression remained neutral, a strange light flickered in his eyes as he prepared to deliver his report.
"It did not go as it usually does, my King," Aodhan answered, his voice steady, carrying clearly through the cavernous space.
Kallos looked up a little, his brows rising in mild curiosity. He shifted his weight, pulling his hand away from his face to fix his gaze fully on Aodhan. "What do you mean by that? How many Umbra wolves did they awaken this time?"
"Two," Aodhan replied.
"Two?" Kallos repeated, the word coming out as a sharp exhale. He sat up straighter, the relaxed slump of his shoulders vanishing instantly as his eyes widened in genuine shock. He gripped the arms of his throne, his knuckles pale against the white stone. The boredom was gone, replaced by a sharp, piercing focus.
"What do you mean two? The Vicious Fangs are known to awaken numerous Umbras during every awakening. It is their pride, their primary export of power. You are telling me they only managed two this year? Why do I find that hard to believe, Aodhan?"
"It is the truth, Sire," Aodhan said, a small twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his composure. "The two are from the Beta's house. There were also fifteen Earthen wolves, or thereabouts. The rest awakened as Ashen."
Kallos froze for a heartbeat, his mind processing the sheer statistical impossibility of such a failure.
Then, the silence of the throne room was shattered as he burst out laughing.
He threw his head back, his white hair swaying as his body shook with uncontrollable mirth. The sound echoed off the high vaulted ceilings, loud and unapologetic, bouncing between the pillars of the great hall. Aodhan watched his king with quiet amusement. Kallos was never the kind of man to hide his emotions; whether he was gripped by fury or joy, he made sure the entire room felt it. It was obvious he was delighted by the news of the Vicious Fangs' misfortune.
Aodhan felt a chuckle of his own threatening to break through. He too was happy about the outcome. The Vicious Fangs were notorious for bragging that they were the most favored pack of the Moon Goddess because of the dozens of Umbra wolves they produced every season.
Aodhan recalled the many things he disliked about that pack, specifically the way they used their superior strength to oppress and intimidate the weaker territories. They were arrogant, fueled by a belief in their own genetic superiority. If not for the Alpha Council, he knew their ruthless Alpha would have annexed half of the neighboring packs by now, swallowing smaller territories without a second thought. It was a relief to know men like Kallos sat on that council to check Vexton's greed and remind him that even the strongest wolves still answered to greater power.
Kallos tried to stop his laughter, slapping his knees repeatedly as he gasped for air. Each slap of his hand against the silk of his trousers produced a rhythmic thud. A strange, wheezing sound came from his throat as he forced himself to settle, his face flushed with the exertion of his joy. Aodhan finally let out a small chuckle, finding the king's infectious energy impossible to resist.
When Kallos finally calmed down, he leaned back, a small smirk playing on his lips as he remembered the words he had thrown at Vexton during their last meeting.
"I hope this year's Vicious Fangs awakening produces nothing but Ashen wolves," the memory of his own voice played in his head.
At the time, it had been a throwaway curse, a bit of verbal sparring meant to deflate Vexton's ego. Now he wondered if he had become some kind of prophet. It seemed as though the Goddess had heard his spiteful wish and decided to grant it in full.
"Serve him right," Kallos muttered to himself with another chuckle.
He could clearly imagine Vexton's face as each dormant shifted into a different shade of pale fur. He pictured the Alpha standing before the ritual dais, his eyes turning from expectation to disbelief, then to towering, helpless rage. He would have paid a fortune to see Vexton's pride crumble in real time, to watch the very bloodline Vexton cherished fail him in front of his entire pack.
Kallos laughed again at the thought of Vexton's son, that boy with the annoying, nonchalant face. He was sure even Axel's mask of indifference must have cracked under the weight of such a disaster.
"Oh, I wish I had been there when it happened," Kallos said aloud. The imagery was too perfect—the great and powerful Vicious Fangs reduced to a pack of pale, low-ranking wolves. He cleared his throat and coughed lightly to regain his dignity, waving a hand at his Lord Commander.
"Do not mind me, Aodhan."
Aodhan nodded slightly, his expression softening as he watched the king settle back into his seat.
"It is a rare bit of justice, Sire. The arrogance of the Maximilian line has been unchecked for far too long. To see it falter like this is something many will find comforting."
Kallos chuckled one last time, his eyes bright with interest.
"Tell me exactly how it happened. Do not leave out a single detail. I want to know who went first, how the crowd reacted, and what Vexton said when the first five turned out to be Ashen. I want to the exact moment Vexton realized the disaster unfolding before him."
Aodhan sighed, knowing this would be a long session. King Kallos did not look the part of a gossip, but if there was one thing he loved almost as much as his people, it was a good story. He possessed an insatiable curiosity for the smallest details—every shift of the wind, every whispered rumor, every flicker of despair on the face of a rival.
Kallos never settled for the short version.
He wanted the pauses, the expressions, the awkward silences, and the exact words spoken. To him, news was not merely information; it was a tale to be savored, piece by piece, until the whole room could feel it as vividly as he did.