Chapter 1

The very well-known White Fur Pack of werewolves is situated in the northern part of Alacia, a kingdom said to have been founded by two different couples who were deeply in love with their respective partners and cherished each other as friends. Everyone residing in Alacia appears peaceful, going about their own business in harmony. The unity among them is undeniable, rooted in the love the founders and ancestors of the pack instilled in the kingdom before their demise.

However, despite the unity shared among the people of Alacia, a great internal strife has persisted for years within the White Fur Pack. This conflict is not widely known among the common pack members but is well understood by the royal family. Every royal-born child is no doubt taught about the strife from a young age.

Just like the White Fur Pack has its strife, the kingdom of Alacia in general has its own discord. One of the primary causes of the discord in Alacia arises from the belief that only werewolves can rule the kingdom. When Alacia was founded, the couples who built it welcomed various beings into their land, believing that no species was superior to another and that all deserved equal respect, human or not. They established a good society where different creatures lived together while ensuring that each species had its own space for growth and social development.

Despite this, after the founders' passing, the werewolves sought absolute control against all odds. Disregarding the other species residing in Alacia, the few werewolf packs waged war against one another for the throne and coveted title of 'Alpha King.' The bloodshed lasted for years until the White Fur Pack finally emerged victorious. The other beings and creatures of Alacia conceded, allowing the White Fur werewolves to rule under one condition: they must uphold the founders' principles of love and peace despite their differences.

While this agreement momentarily quelled some disputes, it did not put an end to the deeper tensions brewing beneath the surface. Peace remained intact, and no one openly questions the werewolves' rule, until…...

*

*

The wind blows gently, carrying a serene stillness as the morning drifts into the afternoon. Outside the royal castle of the pack, children play, showing off their powers to one another, all full of laughter.

The castle stands tall and imposing, its round towers piercing the sky, exuding an aura of power. Vast, solid walls of rare and expensive golden stones encircle the stronghold, reinforced with other precious minerals. Scattered across these walls are finely crafted windows, seemingly placed at random, accompanied by overhanging crenelations designed for archers and defense mechanisms. A massive metal gate, flanked by a sturdy bridge, serves as the main entrance, guarded by skilled warriors who remain ever vigilant.

“Look over there! Look at the loser!” one of the playing teenagers’ shouts, drawing the attention of the others toward a boy sitting alone on a mound of stones, staring into the distance. Unlike his peers, he is fully clothed, his fair skin and slightly long black hair adding to his striking appearance.

“Oh, he’s there? No one even noticed,” another teenager sneers, making everyone around laugh in mockery. All eyes are on the boy, who pretends not to hear them.

They move closer, forming a circle around him. The girls cross their arms over their chests, their eyes filled with mockery. Still, he remains unmoved, keeping his gaze fixed into space.

They step in again, tightening their circle, forcing him to acknowledge them.

“What do you want?” he asks calmly but obviously irritated.

“Don’t tell me the future Alpha is getting angry already,” one of them jeers.

“If only he could show us his powers with that anger and pride of his,” another taunts, making the girls giggle.

The boy clenches his fists, his patience snapping. He stands abruptly, shoving them aside as he breaks free from the circle. Their words are already getting to him. Without another word, he sprints toward the castle, heading straight to his room.

As he enters the grand halls, he makes eye contact with his father, deepening his embarrassment. He rushes past, slams his door shut, and slides down against it, his body trembling. Silent at first, then with increasing intensity of anger, embarrassment, and pent-up pain, he bursts into tears.

Seventeen-year-old Emal is the youngest pup of Alpha Marcus, ruler of the White Fur Pack and the Alpha King of Alacia. Unlike other werewolves in the pack, Emal has never showed any significant powers, except for an unusually heightened sense of smell—something he has kept secret, fearing the disgrace it would bring. In a kingdom where strength determines status, his lack of abilities is seen as a taboo. Despite this, his father has named him the future Alpha, against all odd –mockery and skepticism.

Emal is not the only male heir. He has three older brothers and one sister, each possessing distinct qualities. Darius, the eldest, is physically strong and widely respected but notorious for his arrogance and reckless indulgence in women and alcohol. His wild nature disqualifies him from being the prospective Alpha.

Darius can be very rude to anyone no matter who you are or what you are. All he cares about is his sexual satisfaction. Nothing in skirt passes him by without him getting into it as long as it catches his fancy. Somehow, he knows how to control his strength while getting intimate with a human female.

Shawl, the second-born, is a flirt like Darius but less excessive. However, his selfishness makes him unfit to lead. He never cares about whatever happens to anyone or the result of his actions as long as he's not affected by it.

Xander, the third son, is kind and gentle, but he's not so much brilliant for an Alpha and could be easily used as a puppet by the pack enemies.

Matilda, the only daughter, is strong, intelligent, and ticks all boxes for the traits of a true Alpha. However, as a female, she is not considered a viable successor, for making her Alpha would put her at risk from both internal and external threats. The royal lineage would become vulnerable to being seized by other powerful families—a risk Alpha Marcus refuses to take.

A sudden knock shakes Emal’s door, sending him scrambling back. His father enters, his dominating presence filling the room. Emal averts his gaze, ashamed of his tears, but they refuse to stop. In pain and at a loss, he moves toward his father.

“What’s wrong with you?” Alpha Marcus asks, despite already knowing the answer. Emal’s lack of powers makes him an easy target for bullies, especially among the young wolves of noble blood –royal blood.

“What can I do, Father? What else can I do?” he sobs. “I’ve tried everything to be like everyone else, but nothing works! If I can’t be more than them, at least let me be like them! Why can’t I?”

Emal’s words of lament made his father angry. Without warning, he delivers a sharp slap across Emal’s cheek. The boy barely reacts, not out of shock but out of pain—both physical and emotional. This isn’t the first time he has received such treatment.

“You are the next Alpha! You cannot afford to be weak,” his father growls. “You have to try harder and push these pathetic thoughts aside. Who says you can’t be stronger than everyone else? You will be the Alpha of this pack. You will be the Alpha King of Alacia!”

Emal’s chest tightens. “But for how long? How long do I have to endure this? We both know I’m trying my best.”

“Until the Moon Goddess decides.”

With that, his father turns and leaves.

“I'm going back to school tomorrow.” Emal announces.

“Are you sure?” the Alpha asks and he nods affirmatively.

"Fine! If you think you can handle it."

Moments later, the door swings open again. This time, it is Shawl. He saunters in, smirking at Emal’s defeated posture.

“Oh boy, you’ve become such a crybaby,” he sneers.

Emal wipes his face before speaking. “When will you act like an older brother to me? Why are you always so cruel? Have I ever wronged you?”

Shawl laughs coldly. “Why? Is that even a question? Listen, don’t waste your time trying to fulfill Father’s expectations. You’ll never be Alpha.” His eyes darken to a menacing red, trying to intimidate Emal. “You don’t have what it takes.”

Emal’s frustration boils over. He jumps to his feet, shouting, “I never wanted it in the first place!”

"Better! It’s good you know your place, pack bastard." Shawl fires and Emal staggers back, slumping on his bed. This is not the first time he would be called that way, though other members say it behind closed doors.

"Am I really a bastard? Who the hell am I?"

Several questions fill his mind and he screams loudly, tears rolling down his cheeks.