Much to the surprise of the Blood Moon Pack, the ball of the century appears overnight. Just the other day, Cyrus recalls this same area, these same sparse hunting grounds, being a wide expanse of desolate wilderness. There used to be nothing for miles on end. Smack dab in the middle of nowhere.

But tonight, the trees and mounds of snow that were once here part ways to welcome white pillars and domed rooftops. Tinted glass panes line the front of the grand building—no, massive palace before them.

On cue, and after recognizing Cyrus, the front double doors swing open all on their own. There is no one behind the scenes, no other mysterious entity coming to introduce themselves. It seems as though everything in this ballroom building is quite lively and animated. Sentient!

Grace, whose slender arm is interlocked with his own muscular one, flinches at the sudden course of action. Her red hair, shiny and styled in a side braid with tiny white jewels speckled across the interwoven locks, nearly jolts at the loud sound of the doors being open.

Meanwhile, Ram jumps up and yelps in surprise. Goosebumps stand on end, practically jumping out of his skin. Chuckles overtakes Cyrus as he smacks a hand against the back of his second-in-command.

"You wimp!" Cyrus ruffles up his hair for comedic measure. "You call yourself an alpha when you're more scared than Grace over some doors opening by themselves?"

"Dude, I didn't know things were alive here!" Ram nearly shudders. "That's creepy!"

"What'd you expect, man? It's magic!" Cyrus spreads his free hand, the one not connected with Grace, above him in a dramatic gesture. "I'm sure Luna can do anything!"

Meanwhile, Grace lightly pats Ram on the arm before flashing him a sympathetic smile. Once all three of them, alongside a few other alpha soldiers following behind, stride down a dark blue runway carpet, they take in the majestic wonders of the ballroom.

It seems as though the doors that greeted them earlier aren't the only things alive. Upon their arrival, confetti poppers hovering from crystal chandeliers drop down before spraying Cyrus and the rest of his pack members with specks of white glitter.

In response, Cyrus grins while basking in the glory of the glitter and confetti, even going so far as to strike a confident pose that involves raised arms and flexed muscles.

Already, a few other werewolf packs outside of Blood Moon have been gathered and are currently making themselves comfortable with a variety of refreshments. Their heads all swivel to where Cyrus is, followed by a surge of whispers and murmurs creeping in the background.

Lumare and Frosthide are here. That much is obvious with a cursory glance around the dance floor. It seems like the packs that he personally owns, Slay Saber and Hellhounds, aren't here yet. In the crowd, he still squints, trying to discern where Jax is since he did recognize a few other alpha soldiers from Grave Shadow roaming around.

But he hasn't seen him yet.

Looks like amid all of this, Luna isn't here yet either.

Grace returns to holding onto his hand as they advance forward. Golden trays, carrying flutes of champagne and a colorful assortment of fancy finger foods, float through the air of their own free will. They dip and fly in their direction, eager to provide.

Immediately, Cyrus's free hand pounces on a nearby tray, capturing it mid-air like a frisbee. He offers Grace the finger foods there before scarfing down at least five in his mouth. Without an ounce of hesitation, he bites into some fried mystery shit, eating like he hasn't eaten in days. Chunks of juicy, savory pork explode from tender fried skin, the sweet and saucy flavors traveling down his gullet in the span of a minute.

The whispers behind their backs increase in frequency, louder in volume. Cyrus can give them shit later if he wants. Right now? He's hungry. Minding his own damn business because frankly, Lumare and Frosthide are too boring to talk–

Interrupting his feral eating process, Ram jabs Cyrus in the shoulder with his elbow. "Hey bro, look up."

There, across the other end of the dance floor, stands Jax Sterling. He comes back from touring the upstairs area of the palace, with his second-in-command Zeke by his side.

"Ram, with me," Cyrus commands, right after wiping his mouth of food crumbs. "Let's go."

Then, without warning, he tears away from Grace's side and leaps to action. With his chest puffed out, he strides over to where Jax and Zeke are. Tension weighs heavy in the air as everyone else, Lumare and Frosthide, pauses to watch.

Their eyes meet once Cyrus has approached, blue faced with red. Jax glances over him with those same crimson red eyes, down and up, before clicking his tongue.

Tonight, he's donned in a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up by the cuffs, tucked back all the way to the elbows. The black vest that he has on fits just right across his torso, matching his black suit pants. A red tie is fastened around his neck and his hands are covered in shiny leather gloves. Even his hair is slicked back for the occasion, smoothed out with a bit of gel.

"You're late," he spits out.

"Missed me?" Cyrus cooes. He leans forward, closing in on Jax's space. His nose picks up the smell of mint. "I didn't know you liked getting your ass beat that much."

"As far as my memory recalls, I won last time. You were the one who bled out in the snow."

"Yeah, that's what I call a fluke. I'll still continue winning way more times than you ever have. Because everyone knows that by the end of the day, I'm the strongest here. Natural strength and all, unlike a certain someone."

One of Jax's gloved hands yanks Cyrus by the collar of his dress shirt, drawing him in even closer. Their noses are inches away from touching, their breaths running ragged from the tight proximity between them.

When Jax glares up at Cyrus, his heated gaze practically lasers holes into his head. Out of anger, his eyes begin to radiate that same eerie red glow that Cyrus is all too familiar with.

"Someday, you will die a slow and agonizing death, just as you deserve," Jax says, ominous undertones creeping into the raspy tone of his voice. "We may be going back and forth right now because we're not yet prepared. But when the time comes, when we are ready to continue the tradition our alpha forefathers have done for generations, I will make sure to finish what I started."

There's a snarl to his last words as he tells Cyrus, "I will kill you."

Cyrus stares back at him a while longer, a deranged smirk growing ever so wide across his scarred face. He's smiling so big that all of his canine teeth are out on display. Jax's words have him brimming with complete and utter excitement because that's exactly what he wants to hear.

Just like how Dad already died, in the aftermath of his final duel with the previous head alpha of Grave Shadow, Cyrus wants to descend down the same route in life someday.

He wants to go out with a big bang. In a moment of passion and fury. All or nothing—and he wants it all. All the bloodshed, all the rage, all the exhilaration of a brutal and glorious death. Whether it be his own demise or Jax's. Possibly both, just like how Dad and the previous alpha of Grave Shadow went out.

So to all of this, Cyrus can't help but toss his head back and burst into maniacal laughter. He laughs and laughs like the madman that he is, collecting the disturbed shock of the audience that watches them. He doesn't stop laughing, not even after noticing a pair of wolf ears emerging from Jax's head.

And then Jax shifts. One moment, his bones twist, shrink, distort. Then, in the blink of an eye, a black blur of fur suddenly lunges at Cyrus's grinning face.

Let's brawl.