A New Throne
2014 Words
The sun had barely risen when Theo crossed the borders of the Dam-Nighade Pack—the land once ruled by a dark queen, now stripped bare of her terror. The air still held a trace of blood and ash, but beyond that, there was the scent of something else.
Change.
Awaiting him at the border were the warriors and officials Alpha Damian had sent ahead weeks before the final battle. They had maintained order in the interim, enforcing Damian’s laws while restoring some level of peace among the shattered ranks.
As Theo dismounted his horse, he was greeted with a respectful bow from the lead envoy—a tall, silver-haired warrior named Boram, who had once served as second-in-command to the late Alpha Kaden before defecting to Damian's side.
“Welcome, Alpha Theo,” Boram said solemnly, his voice firm but reverent. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Theo nodded, eyes scanning the forested terrain behind them and the ruined structures in the near distance. He could see where fires had scorched walls, where bones had been hastily buried, and where fresh timber had been brought in to begin rebuilding.
The war had left its mark.
So had Lila.
“Thank you,” Theo said. “Let’s not waste time.”
With a brief but warm welcome ceremony—no grand feasts or fanfare, just a shared cup of traditional wolfroot wine and a few kneeling oaths—they began their journey deeper into the pack’s territory.
As they passed through the village, Theo observed the people.
They were quiet. Wary. Most were former subjects of Lila—wolves who had survived her reign of terror either through blind loyalty or quiet submission. Children peeked out from behind huts. Old men nodded from porches. Women clutched their shawls and watched in silence.
But in their gazes, Theo saw something else.
Hope.
They had heard the stories—that Lila had fallen, that the great Alpha Damian had chosen a new leader, not to destroy them, but to guide them.
And now, that leader had come.
---
The Alpha's Estate
The estate had once been Lila’s fortress—cold, towering, and soaked in secrets. But already, changes had begun.
The gates now stood open.
The spiked iron wolf statues that once snarled down from the walls had been taken down.
Cleaners had scrubbed the blood from the courtyard.
Servants stood at attention by the stairs, and though their expressions were blank with caution, they bowed low when Theo stepped into the great hall.
The old throne had been burned. In its place stood a new one—crafted from dark wood, carved by Damian’s artisans. Simpler. Sturdier. A throne for a protector, not a tyrant.
Boram gestured. “It’s yours now.”
Theo walked slowly toward the seat. His heart beat heavily—not with nerves, but with weight. With purpose.
He didn’t sit right away.
Instead, he turned to face the people in the hall—warriors, servants, councilmen. Their eyes clung to him like threadbare cloth clinging to a sharp wind.
“I’m not here to rule with fear,” Theo said, his voice carrying through the stone chamber. “I’m not here to crush you or punish the past. But I will never allow darkness to grow here again. Loyalty will be rewarded. Betrayal will be dealt with swiftly. From this day forward, this pack belongs to its people again.”
Silence. Then a single, cautious clap. Another followed. And soon, the hall echoed with steady, rising applause—not yet wild with joy, but strong enough to say we’re ready to believe again.
Theo finally took his seat on the throne.
A new era had begun.
---
The First Council
The soft creak of wood echoed across the grand chamber as the last of the elders took their seat around the curved stone table. A fire crackled in the large hearth, chasing off the morning chill. The air buzzed with a strange mix of curiosity, skepticism, and cautious optimism.
Theo sat at the head of the table, shoulders squared, expression calm but commanding. Rina stood discreetly behind him, quiet yet present—her silent presence a steady support.
This was his first formal act as Alpha of the Dam-Nighade Pack.
He meant to leave no room for doubt.
“Thank you all for coming,” Theo began, his voice even, every word echoing with quiet authority. “I know the past few months have not been easy. War never is. And the loss of your former Alpha—whether you loved or feared her—left this pack fractured.”
He paused, scanning the faces before him. Some were older men and women of the original pack, marked by years of survival under Lila’s tyranny. Others were newly appointed council members and warriors sent by Damian to oversee the transition. And a few—though not many—were transfers from Damian’s pack, handpicked to advise and support the new regime.
“But we are no longer ruled by fear. We will rebuild, stronger than before. Not just in walls and numbers, but in spirit.”
He gestured toward a rolled parchment, which Boram brought forward and laid before the council. Theo stood, slowly unrolling the document.
“Today, I will lay down the new laws that will guide this pack moving forward—rules rooted in justice, unity, and progress.”
He read them aloud, one by one:
No allegiance to dark magic or its practitioners.
Any sign of magical tampering, blood rituals, or enchantments will be met with full investigation and punishment.
All wolves, regardless of former status, will be treated with equal opportunity to rise—based on loyalty and contribution, not bloodline or past allegiance.
No rogue will be enslaved. Captured rogues will be questioned and judged fairly.
The Luna’s word shall be law when the Alpha is absent.
Then he added firmly,
“These laws are not suggestions. They are the foundation of the new Dam-Nighade Pack. As you know, Alpha Damian, the High Alpha who appointed me, holds deep hatred for all forms of dark magic. Under his command and mine, it will no longer find a home here.”
Murmurs rippled through the table—some nodding in agreement, others tense and quiet.
An elder from Lila’s former court, a narrow-eyed man named Suhwan, cleared his throat.
“And if we find such magic buried deep in the land? What if remnants of Lila’s rituals still linger?”
“Then we root them out,” Theo said simply. “And we burn them.”
Silence fell again. Theo could feel the split undercurrents in the room—most of them were satisfied, even relieved. But there were others—especially from Damian’s pack—who sat too still, their smiles too polite.
One in particular—a burly, sharp-tongued warrior named Peter—barely hid his sneer.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
“Forgive me, Alpha,” Peter said with mock respect. “But many of us bled in that war. We served Alpha Damian directly. And now we answer to someone who once bore the title Gamma? Are we expected to forget what you were just because you sit on a throne?”
The room froze.
Theo didn’t flinch.
He rose slowly from his seat, voice deadly calm.
“Yes,” he said. “Because what I was is exactly why I understand how broken packs rise again. You see my past as weakness. Damian saw it as strength. That is why I’m Alpha—and you are not.”
Peter’s jaw clenched, but he said no more.
Across the table, the elder Boram gave a short nod of approval. Several others murmured in agreement.
Theo continued.
“If anyone questions Damian’s decision, I suggest you take it up with him. But until then, you will abide by his word. And mine.”
He didn’t need to raise his voice. He didn’t need to snarl.
He had commanded the room.
And just like that, the tone shifted.
The rest of the meeting went smoothly—plans for rebuilding, for reassigning guards, for opening the Luna Hall once again to women and pups.
By the end of the gathering, most were smiling, nodding, speaking to each other with renewed confidence.
But behind those polite nods, the seeds of tension were already taking root.
A few would never fully accept Theo.
And others?
Others were simply waiting for him to slip.
---
Seeds of Resentment
The echo of the meeting still rang in Peter’s ears as he slammed the door behind him. His jaw was clenched, his boots thudding against the polished floor of the estate house assigned to him and his family.
“That wretched Gamma boy,” he hissed, ripping off his outer cloak and tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. “Sits on a throne handed to him by another man and dares to shut me down in front of the entire council?”
He paced like a storm bottled in human form, his hands twitching at his sides. The way Theo had dismissed his words—cutting him off with calm firmness and sharp logic—felt like a slap to the face in front of wolves he’d once outranked.
Just as he reached for a glass of water, the door creaked open.
Lady Miranda stepped in, her brows knit with worry as she took in the sight of her husband—red-faced, breath hissing, eyes dark with rage.
“Peter?” she asked carefully. “What happened?”
He didn’t reply. Merely waved a dismissive hand and turned his back to her, hoping she’d go away. But Miranda had learned long ago not to leave her husband when his temper burned hot.
“You’re pacing like a caged bear,” she said, stepping closer. “Is it something about the meeting?”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, but still said nothing.
“Peter,” she pressed again, gently placing a hand on his arm. “Talk to me, dear.”
After several heartbeats, he finally growled out, “That boy—Theo. The way he shut me up during the meeting, as if I were some inexperienced pup. He thinks because Damian favors him, he can humiliate me?”
Miranda’s gaze softened. “He is the Alpha now.”
“Appointed,” Peter spat. “Not born to it. Not raised for it. Just a toy of Damian’s.”
She hesitated before speaking, then said quietly, “Be careful with such words. If Alpha Damian hears of your discontent—”
“Let him hear it!” Peter snapped.
But Miranda stepped closer, her voice firmer now. “Don’t be foolish, husband. Damian isn’t known for patience. You question Theo in front of others and word spreads… it won’t be Theo you’ll answer to—it’ll be the man who gave him that throne.”
Her words struck a nerve. Peter blinked at her, shocked by the lack of loyalty in what he’d expected to be support.
“So you’re taking his side now?”
“I’m trying to keep you alive,” she said sharply. “Think. If you act too hastily, you’ll end up banished—or worse. Is your pride worth that?”
Peter’s nostrils flared, his pride wounded further by her reasoning. For a moment, they stood in silence, the tension thick between them.
Then, slowly, he relaxed his posture and nodded.
“You’re right, my love” he murmured, voice calm again. “You’re right, Miranda. I’ll stay quiet. I’ll show respect.”
Miranda gave a soft smile and touched his cheek. “That’s all I ask.”
But as soon as she turned to fetch water for him, Peter’s eyes grew cold. His fists clenched again—quietly, beneath the folds of his sleeves.
Theo made me kneel in words today, he thought darkly. But soon… he’ll pay for the insult. He’ll wish he never sat on that throne.
- Writer
