My Pack

I was born in the year 1180 S.W. to the great house of Luporum. My father, Duke Decimus Luporum, was a formidable man who demanded strength from his family. In the house of the wolf, we were expected to be the epitome of a strong pack—weakness was not tolerated, and unity was essential. As the youngest pup in this particular pack, I often felt like the outcast, the one who never quite belonged. My mother, Valeria, died giving birth to me, a fact that many within the family could never forget—or forgive. It didn’t help that I was born the smallest of all my siblings, which is why my father named me Cicero. To him, I was the blemish on our proud lineage, the one imperfection that couldn’t be erased.My elder brothers—Tiberius, Rufus, Faustus, and Victor—excelled in all the areas where I faltered. Tiberius was a mirror image of our father, a fierce leader, a powerful warrior, a presence that demanded respect. Even Victor, who shared my love for books over blades, managed to blend in with the warriors of our family, while I remained on the fringes. Then there were my sisters. Ferox, as her name suggests, possessed the same ferocity as our father and Tiberius. She demanded what she wanted and never took no for an answer. But it was my sister Claudia who saved me from being entirely consumed by the darkness that often shadowed our house. She protected me, taught me to excel in the areas where I could, and, most importantly, she taught me kindness—a rare trait in our family. And sweet Livia, only two years my elder, was my dearest friend. Though we were different in many ways—she relished in mischief, always pulling pranks and sneaking around—we found solace in each other's company. Claudia nurtured us both, recognizing that we were gentler than the rest of the Luporum house, and she made sure that our spirits were not entirely crushed by the weight of our lineage.
 
It has been over twenty years since I last saw a member of my family. Over the years, I’ve caught wind of subtle mentions regarding the state of House Luporum. I know that my brother Tiberius still holds the title of Duke, a position he was always destined to maintain. Ferox has taken up the mantle of Vanguard of War, and I have no doubt that she leads her war knights with the same unyielding bravery that defined her in our youth. Faustus is dead, and Livia was terribly mangled the last time I saw her. Lately, I find myself thinking of them more often. Today marks Claudia’s birthday, and I wish I knew where she was. I imagine her as a professor, driving cutting-edge research at the College of Silverblood, or perhaps she’s conducting research in some peaceful, faraway land. How I wish I knew if Livia is still alive. But the thought of returning home stirs too much within me—too much fear, too many unresolved feelings. I cannot bear the idea of facing Tiberius. I can only imagine what he would do to me if I ever returned.
 
I am not ashamed to admit that I am afraid. A proverb comes to mind: "We achieve perfection first by acknowledging our failures. We increase understanding first by recognizing our ignorance." My exile is my failure, and perhaps one day, I will learn whether I ever truly had a place in this pack.