Chapter 775: The Vision at the Feast
Chapter 774: The Vision at the Feast
13 Days To Go
The world was quite mysterious sometimes. In some parts of the world, someone sobbed after having their child taken from them. In others, people wept because the plague had taken over and there was hardly any food to eat.
In some places, others rejoiced, dancing with their friends as they sang. In some places, people picked out who they would spend the night with—some against their will, some lovers.
And while the majority sobbed from the pain of having their children and families dead, while some sang at the top of their lungs drinking ale, while some lovers enjoyed being in each other’s presence, trying new things, there were those who were making plans to move the war.
One of such people was the beautiful woman with black hair, the woman whose jewels never left her hands, the one who now sat barefooted as she always was in her castle... Victoria.
She was with the Enclave members, though they were not having a meeting. They had had their meeting earlier in the day, but it had taken so long that it stretched into the night. And though the members didn’t know, it was all Victoria’s plan.
The great dining hall of the Blood Moon Pack was a spectacle of wealth and excess. The long table, carved from dark, ancient wood that had been polished to a mirror-like sheen, stretched nearly the length of the room. Crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their countless facets catching the flickering light of a thousand candles, scattering rainbows across the walls.
Tapestries depicting victories and hunts lined the stone walls, their rich colors faded but still vibrant enough to remind all who entered of the power that resided here. Silver candelabras stood at intervals along the table, their flames dancing in the draft from the open windows.
The table groaned under the weight of the feast.
From the east came dishes that spoke of warmth and abundance: slow-roasted lamb, its crust fragrant with rosemary and garlic, the meat so tender it fell apart at the slightest touch. Platters of honey-glazed root vegetables, their edges caramelized and glistening, were arranged beside bowls of spiced grain pilaf studded with dried fruits and nuts. Deep clay pots held thick, savory stews that bubbled with the richness of slow-cooked meats and herbs.
From the south came the bounty of the wetlands: platters of grilled fish, their skins crisped to perfection, drizzled with a tangy citrus sauce. Bowls of creamy soups, pale and fragrant, floated with delicate herbs and chunks of sweet shellfish. There were stacks of flatbreads, still warm, brushed with seasoned oil and sprinkled with sea salt. Pickled vegetables in jewel-bright colors sat in small ceramic dishes, their sharp tang cutting through the richness of the other dishes.
From the west, the mountains contributed their own treasures: wheels of aged cheese, their rinds dark and crusty, the interiors creamy and pungent. Smoked meats, dark and rich, sliced thin enough to see through. Hearty breads, dense and chewy, studded with nuts and dried berries. Jars of preserved fruits, their sweetness a counterpoint to the savory dishes.
And everywhere, there was ale and wine. Pitchers of dark, robust ale from the south, their foam thick and creamy. Decanters of deep red wine from the west, its color like rubies. Bottles of pale golden wine from the east, crisp and dry, served chilled in silver buckets.
It was a feast fit for royalty. Yet for a territory where the majority could not afford to eat, where fields lay fallow and children went to bed hungry, the abundance in the castle felt almost obscene.
But the members of the Enclave didn’t care. They only wanted to have their fill, after all. They only sought to satisfy their stomachs, to forget the suffering beyond these walls in the warmth of good food and strong drink.
Philip laughed loudly at something someone said, his cup sloshing as he gestured with it. He was a young alpha, new to his power, and eager to prove himself. His eyes followed Victoria’s every movement, his loyalty to her as obvious as the silver sigil on his collar.
Gloria sat across from him, her silver jewelry catching the candlelight. She ate with elegance, her movements measured and precise. But there was a tightness around her eyes, a watchfulness that spoke of ambition and calculation. She did not trust Victoria, but she knew better than to openly oppose her.
Joshua, the eastern alpha, was more reserved. He ate quietly, his eyes moving across the table, cataloging the faces and expressions of his fellow Enclave members.
Samuel observed everything from his seat near the middle of the table. His fingers drummed absently against the polished wood as he ate, his mind clearly elsewhere. He had challenged Victoria’s authority more than once, and he had no intention of stopping. Something about tonight felt different, though. A tension in the air that he couldn’t quite name.
And then it happened.
Victoria had just taken a sip from her wine when the glass fell from her hands.
It shattered against the stone floor, red wine spreading like a pool of blood across the pale stone. Her hands shook violently, and every member present turned to her, their conversations dying in their throats.
She knew it was coming. She knew with the way her hands shook, with the way her breathing turned shallow. Her eyes rolled upward until almost only the white remained.
"What’s going on?" Gloria asked, her voice sharp. "Why does she look like that?"
"She’s having a vision," Philip exclaimed.
He immediately stood up from his seat and rushed to Victoria’s side, his hands hovering uncertainly as if he wanted to help but didn’t know how.
"A vision?" Joshua asked, a frown on his face. "While we are eating?"
"The goddess must have something to show her, it seems," another member replied, his tone casual, almost dismissive.
"Well, if it’s a vision, then there’s no need to be concerned," Gloria said with an air of nonchalance. "She will tell us what she saw once she is done."
Samuel remained quiet, his gaze fixed on Victoria’s trembling form.
This was the first time he was witnessing Victoria having a vision. And he could not help but doubt it.
Why now? What could the vision be about?
Perhaps it was to stop them from attacking the Nightshade Pack? Or maybe it was something else entirely?
He paused, then shook his head as he took a bite of his food. It was quite delicious—even better than he recalled eastern food to taste like. The roasted lamb melted on his tongue, the herbs and spices blending perfectly. He took another bite, then another, his doubts momentarily forgotten in the pleasure of the meal.
He watched as Philip made sure Victoria was comfortable as she saw her vision. He watched how the others looked comfortable, how Gloria sneered at Philip’s obvious concern.
Time passed, and finally, Victoria regained consciousness.
The hall quietened immediately as everyone focused their attention on her. She blinked slowly, her eyes refocusing as she took in her surroundings. Her hand went to her temple, pressing gently.
She signaled a servant to pour water into a cup for her. The servant hurriedly did so, and she drank from it, the cool liquid soothing her throat.
"Thank you," she said to Philip, who nodded, relief evident on his face.
"Perhaps you can tell us what you saw and stop keeping us waiting?" Gloria asked, her tone sharp.
Samuel noticed that as Gloria spoke, she never once stopped eating.
Victoria stared at Gloria, her gaze cold and measuring. Then she shook her head slowly, as if gathering her thoughts.
"I had a vision," she said.
"We know that already," Joshua said, his impatience evident. "What we want to know is what it was about."
Victoria nodded, her expression grave.
"The attack on the North... we must push it forward. It must be done within two weeks. Both the preparations and the attack itself."
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