Jane stood on the balcony, watching her brother Fisher disappear into the distance, his figure gradually blending with the fading twilight. A sigh escaped her lips, not one of relief, but a bitter one, heavy with thoughts she couldn't easily voice.
The Silver Mane Tribe, their tribe, was on the verge of rising to the throne. If this played out as predicted, the early investments they had made would cement their place beside the new ruler. For the Greymane family, this could mean unimaginable power and security for generations to come.
And yet, despite these strategic triumphs, Jane's mind drifted to something far more personal, something no amount of political maneuvering could secure.
Logan.
The name alone was enough to send her heart into a silent flurry. She'd fallen for him the moment she laid eyes on him, like a lightning strike that left her breathless. In her mind, there was no question: she wanted to marry him. But Jane wasn't content with the union being forced upon him.
She dreamed of a moment where Logan would come to her of his own accord, declaring his love, choosing her without any pressure from the outside world.
That would be the happiest day of her life.
If it was anything less, if Logan was coerced into marrying her by the weight of politics or duty, then she would rather remain unmarried. Her pride, her heart, couldn't accept anything less than a love freely given.
Still, deep down, she knew. Logan would marry her. She wasn't sure how or when, but there was a certainty in her bones. It was intuition, a whisper in the wind, but it was enough to quiet her restless thoughtsñ at least for now.
With one last look at the horizon, Jane straightened her posture and pushed the heavy door open, stepping back into the political storm that awaited her.
---
High above Canyon City, two ancient Beastmen floated in the air, their silvered fur shimmering under the pale light of the moon. The wind carried their voices, sharp and laden with the weight of decades-long conflict.
"Haha! Walcott, I never thought I'd see the day when you'd come out of hiding." The elder Beastman, fur grey and streaked with white, chuckled as he gazed down.
His eyes locked onto the figure of his younger brother, the one-eyed Beastman known as Walcott, who approached him, treading the air with calculated steps.
"Brother, it's been two days, and yet here you are. What is it that you want so desperately?" Walcott's voice was as cold as the winter winds that swept through the canyon, his single eye glinting with barely concealed hostility.
"Do you still hate the eldest brother?" the elder Beastman asked, his tone light, though his eyes betrayed a deeper sadness.
"Hate him?" Walcott scoffed, the sound harsh in the quiet night. "He's not worth my hatred. A beast who would murder his own father, he's beneath even that. He doesn't deserve my thoughts, let alone my hatred."
His voice now thundered through the air, carrying the weight of years of unresolved resentment. "I won!"
"And yet," the one-eyed Beastman snarled, his teeth bared in a rage he had clearly nursed for far too long, "how did the eldest brother end up becoming the master of the royal court?"
He paused for a moment, his breath coming out in harsh pants as his memories swirled like a storm. "I didn't care back then. I didn't want the position for myself. But then... then Father died, suddenly and without warning. I rushed back, only to find that the eldest brother had already claimed the throne."
"I didn't even contest it!" he continued, his voice now almost hoarse with emotion. "But when I tried to investigate Father's death, the eldest and the clan elders banded together, preventing me from digging any deeper into the truth."
His hand tightened into a fist, and his eye blazed with the fires of old hatred. "I was injured in the conflict that followed. If our second uncle hadn't intervened, I wouldn't even be standing here. I would be dead."
The anger in his voice morphed into something darker, something more painful. "And if that wasn't enough, he took my sons from me. Les and Lake; they were just kids, barely level eight in strength. And the eldest killed them. Do you understand that?" His voice cracked with the weight of it. "He killed my boys, my flesh and blood, just to force my hand.
To silence me."
He took a ragged breath, his voice lowering to a near-whisper, but no less intense. "Tell me, Fourth, how am I supposed to forgive that? How could I ever forgive him?"
The grey-furred Beastman, standing across from him, sighed heavily. His heart ached hearing his brother's anguish, but he also felt helpless in the face of such deep-seated pain.
"I understand your anger," the older Beastman said, his voice quieter now, filled with sorrow. "But back then, I wasn't strong enough. I wasn't a legend yet. There were things I couldn't interfere with, no matter how much I wanted to. But I heard what happened. I know that when you wanted to investigate our father's death, the eldest and the clan elders stopped you.
I don't know why they did it. But I went to our second uncle, and he—"
The one-eyed Beastman scoffed, cutting him off. "Uncle didn't tell you anything, did he? He's just another one of the eldest's lackeys."
"That's not true," the grey-furred Beastman protested, shaking his head. "Uncle told me that the rumors about our father's death; those wild accusations that the eldest and the clan elders were involved, they're not true. I believe him, because Uncle would never lie about something like this. Not about Father. They were too close."
"But you don't believe that, do you?" he asked, looking at his brother with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "You never have."
The one-eyed Beastman clenched his jaw, his emotions a storm barely held in check. "Because I know what I saw. I know what was taken from me. It wasn't just a title. It was my sons. It was our father's legacy.
And I will never forgive the eldest for that."
The grey-furred Beastman sighed again, the sound heavy with the weight of history and regrets. He knew that no matter what he said, no matter how much he wanted to heal the rift between them, his words wouldn't reach his brother. Not after so much had been lost.
Perhaps, he thought bitterly, it was already too late.