The world continues to evolve, creating new stories to tell, new lives to celebrate, and new traditions to partake in. Compared to the traditions of the past kingdom which my parents grew up in, the new traditions which my generation has been brought up around have felt forced upon us, made to seem overly important and more value placed upon them than there actually should be. I understand the tradition of Alpha Ceremonies, how they last through the night with blood oaths from the new pack leader, I am comfortable with the customs that occur when someone meets their mate, and other traditions which have been around in our society for centuries. These older traditions make sense, they hold a critical piece of werewolf culture within them and brings the werewolf community closer together. These new traditions are like the werewolf community as a whole in this region is trying to reshape.

The last war which lasted for several months was one which caused these new traditions to be born into existence. Those who created the traditions saw it as a way to try and mend broken treaties between the packs remaining, to bring those who survived closer together, but the new traditions still leave a bitter taste in many Alpha's mouths. There used to be over one hundred packs, ranging from large and powerful to small and relying on other packs for aid. Now, twenty years after the war, there are nine packs remaining in North America where the Alpha King used to preside. 

The weaker packs were either killed off, were absorbed into others, or dissolved as the members became rogues and adapted to the human world. Only the strongest remain from the war and I consider my family very lucky to still be part of a pack, to experience the traditional values a pack has, to be raised in a werewolf community, and to not fear being different or fear being killed off in the human world.  

Those packs which remained after the war are here tonight, gathered for one of the new traditions, taking place in the dead of winter. The music, desserts, and drinks all make for a happy evening, but there are still bitter packs, perhaps plotting to attack another pack any moment after this celebration - a celebration of peace. 

"Beautiful night," I state, looking over my shoulder to spot my mother standing in the archway of the balcony. A blanket of snow covers the grounds below, the gardens left bare by the winter as the fountains are frozen over and the bushes trimmed short. 

"Try and converse with the others your age from other packs." 

I know what my mother is trying to do here, for it is common for packs to try and get young members to form romantic bonds with one another - especially members from important pack families - allowing for treaties to be made by packs. My father is the Delta of Evercrest Ridge, the head warrior who leads over two hundred warriors to protect our pack. Meanwhile my mother is best friends with the Luna of our pack, the two of them combined making me enough of an influence that if I were to make a connection tonight with someone, our pack would try and extend out a treaty. 

"I would rather save my flirting for someone who can take an awkward conversation," I comment, reminding her that I am not someone to place a bet on tonight. Yet this is one of the only nights for members of other packs to converse, otherwise it is only Alphas. 

"Give it a try, someone may be a good match for you below," mom remarks, nudging my shoulder as we look back to the party a floor below, everyone dressed in the traditional colors of navy and silver, adding elegance to the party. My own navy dress blends right into the theme, an off the shoulder piece which sweeps the floor and my mother described earlier as an 'effortlessly beautiful dress.' With my heels clicking against the wooden floor, I make my way down the stairs, brushing a loose strand of my dark brown hair behind my ear as my eyes scan the crowd before me.

I find myself gravitating towards the back of a room filled with older books, my eyes looking out the tall windows, watching the party attendees who arrive late. A couple of pack members pack greet me as they pass by to a sitting area, commenting on my dress as I offer them a soft smile. 

My eyes fall upon the sea of people in the main open area of the building, men and women gathering together as they discuss pack business and try to act friendly. I catch glimpse of a man moving through the crowd, his black suit standing out among those who wear dark navy suits. His head of thick and dark brown hair is combed back effortlessly, broad shoulders facing me as I inspect the back of him, wondering who he could be. No one wears black to this event, for they stick to the traditional colors Alpha Penelope set when she created this tradition after the war. 

Taking a step left, I try and get a glimpse of his face, wondering who this man who who seems young, perhaps my age, yet he converses with the older members of packs. A woman with elegant beauty throws her head back in laughter as she speaks with him, offering him a star-studded smile as she places a hand on his shoulder and seems to be flirting. Something just seems off about him, something drawing me in as my wolf begins to pick up his scent. His scent is unfamiliar, my nose unable to place which pack he comes from. I catch a short glimpse of those eyes, glowing like gold in the dim light of the room, the intensity of his eyes reminding me of the stars. Who could he be? 

Something tugs at my heart, something pressuring me to go towards him, strike up a conversation, get my name across to him and for me to know his own. My heels click against the floor, as if my body is on autopilot as I gravitate towards him, wanting so badly to know who he is and where he comes from. It is rare to see a new face here for me, for this is my seventh year attending this party, and it is not often new members of importance are invited. Every pack sends their important pack members here, but no pack would appoint someone so young to any position unless he came from a powerful bloodline in the pack, but I would be able to pick up on that bloodline. 

Just as I am about to be right behind his shoulder, a woman walks in front of me, cutting me off as her silver dress sweeps across the floor, her scent carrying the distinct smell of Crimson Lock. I watch as the Steward of Crimson Lock's daughter walks through the crowd, a sea of people separating to let her through, eyes gazing over her face of eternal beauty. The Steward of Crimson Lock runs the pack of Crimson Lock, the pack which started the war, whose Alphas went after the Alpha King and Kingdom to tear it down. Everyone wants a treaty with Crimson Lock, for they still remain the strongest pack left after the war, even after everything they lost along the way. 

I lightly bump into the very male I was making my way towards, heart pounding in my chest as the man quickly looks over his shoulder and those golden eyes look down at me, pulling me into some sort of trance. Whatever words I had formed before are not lost as he faces me now, taking in my appearance as he wonders who I am. 

"So sorry," I apologize, taking a step back as his scent envelops me, driving me crazy with questions as he shakes his head. 

"No need to apologize." His voice is warm, a rich voice filled with authority as I once again wonder who he could be. Looking down to where the Steward's daughter stands in the center of attention, the mystery man bumps my arm with his elbow. "Who do you think she will go home with?" He begins a conversation with me without a second thought, the two of us staring ahead to the beautiful woman offering a smile to another male. 

"Why should it concern us?" 

"Whoever she picks will perhaps get a treaty for their pack with Crimson Lock." He is not wrong, for every pack here wants a treaty with Crimson Lock if they do not have one already. In this new kingdom, treaties come and go quickly. My pack is lucky to already hold one with Crimson Lock, for our pack was one of the first to support their last Alpha, Lily Maxwell, in her vision for a new werewolf kingdom, though she died before we had joined them fully. 

"Why are you not worried about getting your name in the running?" I ask, curious as to why he stands here while male suitors go closer to the woman. Does his pack already hold a treaty, for then he could only be from two other packs here tonight? 

Shaking his head, a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "No, my pack does not need a treaty with Crimson." Crimson...no one has ever called it that. No one has ever turned down to get a treaty with Crimson Lock either. Which pack could he be from here? There are no new packs which I have heard of. The only pack which does not need a treaty with Crimson Lock is Ethereal Shadows, a pack created shortly after the fall of the last Alpha King, King Laraxis, a pack composed of both wolves and elves, the first of its kind.

"River," he states, holding out his hand for me to take as I look to him. River...such an odd name. "A name is worth a thousand conversations. I have to know what your name is too." 

A smile crosses my face as I take his hand, shaking it slightly as he seems to pull me in with a simple handshake. "Evelyn." I am less than two feet from him, my body itching to be closer to his as those golden eyes stare into my own. "Which pack do you come from?" I ask, needing to know as the entire point of this traditional night is for packs to come together and forget their grudges and put the hate which they can behind them for just one night. 

"Why is everyone so concerned about what pack someone belongs to," River begins, beginning a question as I listen, "for it once only mattered which Alpha King you served." 

"Alpha Kings are a thing of the past, Lily Maxwell tore down that system to start one she believed in."

"Are you saying you agree with why she started a war which killed so many?" River asks, voice turning cold as I am caught off guard by his demanding tone. 

Shaking my head, I inch back from River. "My parents taught me there are two sides to every story. Lily Maxwell and Nixon Maxwell will always be seen as the villains, while Alpha King Zion will always be seen as a victim of their hatred and plot for revenge. I believe everyone was the victim in that story, corrupted by some sick sense of hatred and wrath." 

River seems amused by my point of view, looking past his shoulder to the doorway of the place as I follow his gaze, spotting a familiar face nearing.  Taking a step back, I turn to face my mother as she seems in a hurry to get to me, calling my name softly as she gets closer to me, sparing River half a glance. "Evelyn, there you are." Confused, I ask if anything is wrong and mom tells me I should follow her. 

Turning back to River, a piece of me does not want to leave him, but I nod my head, offering him a goodbye as his once cold gaze turns a hint mischievous,his lips moving to form the words of a goodbye as I walk away. 

My attention placed back on my mother, I ask her what is wrong, only to receive no answer until we reach a more secluded area of the room. "Do not try and make friends with those from packs we have no idea of."

"I was not able to find out what pack he comes from," I reply, defending my purpose of talking to him. "He seemed nice." 

"Make friends from packs we know of and can trust." I know where she is coming from, for the new system in place of what was years ago is still fragile. Alphas still fight one another, rumors of Alphas wishing to proclaim themselves as the next Alpha King are only growing, and treaties could fall apart at any second. 

A shriek carries its way across the room, catching everyone's attention as my head snaps to the direction of the noise, a woman falling over onto the floor as a man pushes her down dressed in black. People begin to run from the scene as warriors of packs begin to shift, going after the attacker. The metallic scent of blood meets my nose and instantly mother grabs my arm, pulling me with her as we begin to run for an exit of the building. 

Bodies brush against mine, my mother only holding tighter to my arm, telling me to keep up as we kick off our heels. Another scream fills the air as I look back, watching a man falls to the floor, clutching to his torso as crimson red blood stains his shirt. My jaw clenches as my eyes widen, my instincts kicking in as I run faster, knowing this is no place to be tonight. 

A buildup forms around the front entrance as my mom pulls me away from the entrance and back towards where we came from, informing me to find a hallway we can go down. As we spot one at the same time, a body runs past me, pushing past me as I am hit with a massive wave of some sort, as if the person is running at an abnormal speed even for a werewolf. Looking to whoever ran past me, I see the pale skin of the individual, the eternal look of the man, and the pointed ears which let me know exactly what is going on here. 

I pick up my pace, running faster as I keep my eyes on the elf who grabs hold of the young woman who was stealing the show earlier, her long blond hair used against her as the elf grabs it to keep her from running off as he takes hold of her torso, ripping her silver dress as he tries to keep her still. 

My own scream fills the air as I watch her body fall to the ground, her neck slit open with a dagger from the elf with black hair, his lavender eyes barely meeting mine before he is off in the opposite direction. "We cannot stop, Evelyn," mom comments, grabbing me again as I stare at the Steward of Crimson Lock's daughter, her body laying on the floor as a small pool of blood begins to form around her. 

War is on the way, and once more, Crimson Lock is involved.