“Number is the ruler of forms and ideas and the cause of gods and daemons” – Pythagoras.
Grayson Lightpaw seldom had a sense of sentimentality. During these rare days he would visit his mother’s greenhouse. He vaguely remembered at the tender age of four sitting in the very same greenhouse as his mother hummed a soothing tune; tending to some flowers or simply admiring them.
In his nostalgic moments he found himself drawn to the perfumed air of healthy flowers – mimicking the aroma of his nurturing mother. A smell so close to her personality, yet a smell that couldn’t quite capture it accurately. For instance, it didn’t capture the moments when Sky Lightpaw would sleep beside a young Grayson whenever he was ill; the smell didn’t mimic the pride in her eyes and the adoration radiating from her gentle smile.
The Alpha-manor’s esteemed grounds were luxurious and proud – a statement of rank and, in essence, royalty. The manor itself had barely changed over the decades; its proud maple wood would be tended to now and again – but it stood proud in its history just as Grayson stood proud in his heritage. A new addition had been built, at the request of his mother. A greenhouse so that Sky could enjoy the aromatic bliss of her youth before she had been discovered as Aiden’s mate.
Grayson smiled softly at his mother’s preference for simplicity and humility. She didn’t want gold, platinum, silver or any material symbols of wealth. A humble woman who saw memories and emotions as worth more than a chandelier lit, rosewood dining space – decorated with silver utensils; she had an affinity for loose fitting jerseys and comfortable shorts as opposed to fur gowns and silk bed sheets. Aiden Lightpaw took a while to adjust to that – baffled that his beautiful mate didn’t want lavish items or expensive love. Even then, the greenhouse he had constructed for her was luxurious inside and out – Sky simply accepted that that was her husband’s love language.
All she wanted was to love and be loved; be it in a decrepit hut or an elegant mansion – her heart’s only desire… was to love.
“Remember, Gray, money is powerful and useful. It’ll get you so much, but you can’t purchase the memories of sunsets and moonlit dances. There isn’t a price to the heart of your beloved – not because it’s so extremely expensive – but because the heart has no use for diamonds or golden watches,” she smiled.
He took a soft whiff of a wisteria flower. It smelled similar to Cory, sharp and enchanting; yet it was so different.
“Grayson Lightpaw smelling flowers, so cute,” Lucian’s voice teased playfully.
Grayson just grinned at the friendly insult, “What can I say? I’m a man of sophistication.”
Lucian scoffed and sat on one of the stone benches inside the lavish greenhouse, “Super sophisticated – reminds me of the time you finished a beer keg at Madison’s party and then puked it all up.” Lucian snickered.
“Shut up,” Grayson scowled, “How many times do I have to tell you it was low-”
“-quality beer that tasted like dusty carpet smeared with cigarette ash,” they both finished at the same time; Grayson defending his embarrassing memory while Lucian was simply mocking him.
The white-haired man sat beside his best friend, “What about the time you joined a boxing circuit just to flirt with that woman who turned out to be a lesbian?”
Lucian grinned and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, man. As if you haven’t done the same thing.”
“I didn’t, that’s why it’s so funny.”
“Oh yeah? Explain the time when you showed up to that Sabrina girl’s house thinking you were going to score and instead she thanked you for babysitting her brother while she went out on a date!” Lucian laughed at the end.
“She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend though!” But Grayson laughed along with his best friend. Their familiar laughter bounced around the glass panes of the greenhouse. One had to be there to witness the sunlit, aromatic painting of brotherhood. The way the bright flowers seemed to dance with their laughter in happiness.
“Body count?” Lucian asked playfully – mischievously. Referring to the amount of people either male had slept with throughout their life thus far
“It hasn’t change since last time you asked,” Grayson grumbled.
“I forget… was it nine?”
“You know it’s fifteen!” Grayson shot back.
“Fifteen? Oh, that’s right. Fifteen is cool… My twenty-one is cooler though,” Lucian chuckled at beating the Alpha.
“Only because you haven’t found your mate yet so you can still get hard with strangers.”
“Doesn’t change the math, dude.”
Grayson scoffed and looked around the greenhouse again, his years with Lucian playing through his mind. Their younger shenanigans and testosterone fuelled competitions and fights.
“Do you remember Gruffle?” The white-haired male withheld his snicker.
“The veteran Assembly Enforcer? The huge one with the deep voice that we called ‘truffle’?” Lucian’s laughter escaped as the rough face of the werewolf flashed before his mind; his yellow eyes flashing in anger at his and Grayson’s teenage pranks during their training.
At the age of sixteen – the common age of discovering a mate – the Alpha and Beta heirs were sent off to train during the winter on mount Wholverg. The tradition behind choosing that specific age was so that both Alpha and Beta understood their responsibilities before becoming too doting on their mate – effectively disregarding their pack duties. As had their forefathers, Grayson and Lucian were sent to the snowy landscape that was quite luscious during the warmer seasons. Mount Wholverg lay in the South-eastern direction of the Lightpaw territory.
A steep and dangerous landscape, beginning their first test of determination as they were to reach the top in order to begin their actual training. Alphas and Betas acted as integral entities within the pack. They encompassed all spheres of their pack: the judicial, executive and legislative. However, they were not omnipotent in their rule of the pack. The Alpha was the superior of the Beta and, the Ancient Assembly was the superior of the Alpha. In effect, the Beta answers to the Alpha who, in turn, answers to the Assembly. In essence, the Assembly’s main objective was to preserve and enforce the traditions of old; although alterations to traditions were considered under careful deliberation and irrefutable justification.
The history behind the Assembly and its founding are mostly lost to time, the few fragments that remain are vague at best. From the limited information passed down through the decades, the Assembly is necessary for peaceful inter and intra-pack relations. As for who comprises the Assembly and the punishments delivered unto the guilty are unknown. Every Alpha and Beta is warned to not only respect the Assembly, but to also honour it. On those grounds, Mount Wholverg is considered sacred – holy in a sense. The Lightpaw pack was the closest pack to the sacred mountain but, they were not the only pack subject to the Assembly. Every pack on the continent is pledged to the Assembly in order to be recognised as a legitimate clan – illegal clans are free to roam as they please. However, without the Assembly’s blessing, infringing on claimed territory permits the occupants to slaughter the illegal clan. Such a law is also applied to rogue wolves.
The training for an Alpha and Beta heir are thorough – bordering on torture. Inheriting an Alpha or Beta bloodline comes with great abilities and status but not without inherent weaknesses. Nature will always seek Her balance. As his father before him, Grayson Lightpaw inherited a dangerous anger, a childish entitlement and a narrowed and self-centred perspective. With these curses he had inherited, he had been compensated with the rank and power of an Alpha – the king of the pack. Quite as it’s kept, Lucian Dolion had also inherited the curses of his father. Thus, the necessity for the Assembly – to redress these inherited curses and mould stable and capable pack leaders who would respect order and competently lead their pack.
The personal members that formed the Assembly – rumoured to be six – are never seen. Their faces never revealed, their voices never heard and their scent never smelled. Whether for protection or tradition, no wolf knows. As a result, the training is left to the hands of prodigiously talented wolves. Select warriors from clans across the continent recognised for their achievement and ability. However, the training was not superficial.
Tests were divided into six segments – wedges of necessity to successfully prepare heirs to defend and govern a pack. The first test was determination; the ascension to the peak of Mount Wholverg during the pinnacle of winter. Trainees were forbidden to shift or sleep as they climbed the steep mountain in thin clothing. The terrain of the holy mountain was nearly fatal during warm seasons – when stones and ridges could provide climbers support and access. During the unforgiving winter, these supporting slopes turned into slippery surfaces. Heavy snow blanketed the rare flat surfaces, sadistically designed to prevent any embers from lighting to life. Sharp, black stones waited under the innocent cover of snow; both Grayson and Lucian had been relentlessly stabbed by these cunning knives during their climb. It took roughly three days for any climber to reach the surface where the temple of the Assembly stood.
Once arriving at the peak, the pair was greeted with an intimidatingly large man – larger than even Alpha Aiden – who stood at six foot five. The man wore a black robe which covered rather medieval chain-link armour. Their initial instructor for the second stage of training: Gruffle. The towering man led them into the sanctum courtyard lined with other selected and honoured Assembly Enforcers. Before being granted the privilege to rest, the Alpha and Beta heirs were instructed to strip in front of the crowd. Grayson refused, the towering Gruffle then paid him no mind and focussed on Lucian. Once again he instructed the Beta heir to strip. The sixteen-year-old heir paused uncomfortably before slowly removing the thin clothing he and Grayson had been given at the start of the journey. He paused once more when it came time to remove his underwear. All the eyes of the Enforcers remained fixated on him; blank expressions in the white wintery afternoon. Lucian clenched his jaw, dropped his head and removed his briefs. He stood vulnerably and insecurely nude as snow slowly fell around them. The Enforcers then all pointed at the Beta heir laughing, their points aimed at various parts of Lucian’s teenage body. Exhaustion exasperated by unfiltered humiliation. The laughing continued and anger rose within the Beta heir, his head snapped up and met Gruffle’s permanently yellow gaze. The moment eye contact had been established, the snickering immediately died and Lucian was granted leave to eat and sleep.
Grayson – an heir to an Alpha – stood fully clothed in the freezing courtyard. Gruffle remained in place, as did the other Enforcers. The Alpha-heir’s head drooped then snapped back up in tiredness. His head drooped once more and his eyes closed for just a second, at which point Gruffle slapped him harshly across the face. Grayson stumbled back – anger manifested happily inside of him. He lunged at Gruffle who simply slapped him again, this time the white-haired teen fell to the floor.
From a simple slap.
He was instructed to strip once again. Grayson refused and the denial of sleep cycled on and on into the night. The Enforcers did not falter nor show any expression. They simply watched Grayson Lightpaw’s pride punish its host. Hungry and faint, the Alpha heir removed his clothing and faced the same humiliation his Beta had until making eye contact in the black darkness.
“How shameful for an Alpha to be outdone by his Beta,” Gruffle announced to the entire audience before permitting Grayson inside the sanctum.
The same training had been repeated for several days. The pair stripped, were laughed at and permitted to retire. A day came when they were no longer hesitant to strip and, the laughter did not shame them.
“Wolves wear no clothing. Honour thy roots.”
They were then introduced into the third stage of training, again observed by the Enforcers. The pair was faced by a beautiful, slender woman with chocolate warm skin. Her hair assembled into neat braids that fell to her lower back and she wore the standard Enforcer uniform. She instructed them to attack her. The pair refused on the grounds that she was a woman and that the duel would not be fair.
“Very well. I shall attack you.”
In four swift motions she had jabbed Grayson in the gut, tripped him to the ground, kicked Lucian in the groin and slammed her elbow down on his head – knocking him to the ground as well. As before, the laughter echoed yet somehow it seemed louder. The woman returned to her starting point and instructed them to stand and face her in combat. Staggering to their feet, anger and shame sketched elegantly on their faces they lunged at her.
They once again were knocked to the ground; the crowd laughed.
As with the previous test, this one repeated over and over again – lasting nearly nine days. The night before, Grayson and Lucian developed a strategy together and that morning, they launched their assault. With graceful agility, the woman blocked their blows while simultaneously inflicting her own. In an uncanny moment of synchronisation Grayson shoved his palm into her face as Lucian swept his foot across the ground – she fell to the snow. There was no longer any laughter. The woman easily got to her feet and wiped the blood from her nose emotionlessly.
“Wolves attack in packs. Honour thy roots.”
The fourth stage of training was conducted individually. An unremarkable instructor – a man of tranquillity – administered Grayson’s test. He was to meditate, instructed to converse with his wolf, Apollo. He was to reach absolute harmony with his wolf. Grayson didn’t find it difficult initially – he and Apollo had many conversations with almost identical approaches and opinions. Out of dutiful – disguised as prideful curiosity – Grayson posed the question, “Who comes first, our mate or our pack?” At that point, Grayson realised that he and Apollo weren’t as in synch as he had thought. Apollo instantly chose his mate before the pack, whereas the Alpha-heir dutifully chose the pack. The inner debate went back and forth, an unending, evenly skilled tennis match of logic.
The unremarkable instructor had clearly been watching closely as he asked whether perfect harmony had been achieved. A frustrated Grayson answered that it had not, and that he would continue trying. The instructor stopped him, insightful in some strange way. He inquired as to how many objections existed between the Alpha-heir and his wolf. Grayson answered that only one objection remained.
“Wolves mate for life. Honour thy roots.”
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