The moon hung low and heavy in the night sky, casting a silver glow over the ancient stones of the Moon Temple. Kael Drenor, the newly crowned Alpha King of Draymoor, stood alone, his broad silhouette carved against the cold marble. His storm-gray eyes were fixed on the glowing sigils etched into the altar before him, but his mind was miles away — tangled in shadows and secrets he dared not voice.
He could feel it again, that pull deep in his chest — the bond that tethered him to a mate he had sworn to reject.
Lyra.
Her name was a whisper on his lips, though no one else dared speak it. In a kingdom ruled by power and bloodlines, mates were more than destiny — they were weapons, alliances, or curses. And his mate was none of those. She was a ghost, an orphan raised in a forgotten village on the kingdom’s outskirts. She was forbidden.
Kael clenched his fists. His crown weighed heavier than ever, not just from its gold and jewels, but from the burden of choice. To accept Lyra meant defying the council, risking war between the packs, and shattering the fragile peace he had fought to secure. To reject her was to turn away the one truth the Moon Goddess had etched into his soul.
A sharp wind swept through the temple, sending a shiver down Kael’s spine. Somewhere beyond the mountains, the packs stirred. They whispered of rebellion, of bloodshed, and of a king who might break or bend beneath the weight of forbidden love.
Footsteps echoed softly behind him. Kael turned to see Riven, his most trusted lieutenant, his dark eyes wary but loyal. “Your Majesty,” Riven said quietly, “the council grows restless. They demand you marry Lady Selene to secure the alliance with the North.”
Kael’s jaw tightened. Lady Selene was a cold beauty, her loyalty bought and sold like the land she was born to inherit. She would make a perfect queen — but she was not his mate.
“Tell the council,” Kael said, voice low and fierce, “that I will choose my own path. Even if it leads me into war.”
Riven bowed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his fear. The king’s decision was a storm brewing on the horizon, and no one could say where it would strike first.
Meanwhile, far from the marble halls and golden thrones, Lyra knelt beside the flickering fire in her small cottage. Her hands trembled as she traced the old pendant her mother had given her — a silver wolf with eyes that seemed to glow in the firelight.
She had always felt different, like a shadow waiting to be revealed. Tonight, the magic within her stirred awake, wild and fierce. The bond with Kael called to her, a whisper of fate and danger.
Later, in the quiet solitude of his chambers, Kael stared out at the moonlit forest beyond the palace walls. Somewhere within its depths, Lyra waited—for him, for their future, for a love that defied the world.
He whispered her name, a vow as fierce as the wolves that ran wild beneath the stars. “I will find you. No matter the cost.”
The distant howl of a lone wolf echoed through the night air—a reminder of the wildness they both carried inside. It was a call to fight, to protect, to claim what was theirs beyond the laws of men. Kael clenched his fists, determination burning in his veins.
Tonight marked the beginning of a war not just for power, but for love—raw, forbidden, and unbreakable.
