The Architect of Chaos

Five years of silence is a long time for some, but for me, it was the sound of progress.

Chaos Valley was no longer just a hidden sanctuary between two mountains; it was a global phenomenon. I had expanded the territory, acquiring the surrounding foothills and turning the rugged peaks of the Twin Sentinels into the most lucrative mining operation in the hemisphere. We didn’t just pull gold from the earth; we pulled rare iridescent gems that fueled my private jewelry line, Silversmith.

The valley floor had been transformed into an architectural marvel—exclusive resorts that catered to both humans and shifters. We offered something no pack could: absolute neutrality and a level of luxury that made the Sandwell Pack look like a camping trip. Because of the sheer economic power I wielded, I had been invited to join the Global Shifter Council three times. I hadn't accepted. Why would I want a seat at a table of old men when I could own the room they sat in?

The Masterclass

I didn't hide my face, but I had shed the name that tied me to the people who discarded me. I was no longer Aella White. I was Aella Silver, taking my mother’s maiden name as a badge of honor.

I sat in my office, the lights of the valley shimmering below, and adjusted my camera for my weekly digital masterclass. I didn't care about rank or gender; my classes were open to any heir who had the brains to keep up.

"The strength of a territory isn't in its borders," I said to the hundreds of faces on the screen. "It’s in its utility. If you aren't essential to the world, you are replaceable."

A notification blinked in the corner of my eye. A gold dragon crest.

"Alpha Silver," the voice of the Dragon Heir, Sol, crackled through the private channel. It was a low, resonant rumble that felt like physical heat against my skin. It was an ancient sound, lacking the frantic edge of a wolf. It intrigued me, pulling at a part of my wolf that usually remained cold and calculating.

"The King has been watching your seminar," Sol continued, his golden eyes appearing on my private feed. "He’s never seen a wolf manage markets with such cold precision. He wants you to invest in the New World Initiative. He’s personally inviting you to the Imperial Alpha Academy."

The Mandatory Decree

I leaned back, a small, cold smile touching my lips. "The Academy? That’s a playground for heirs who still think their title is a personality trait. Tell the King I’m too busy running an empire to attend school. I decline."

The line went silent for a moment before Sol spoke again, his voice dropping an octave. "My father doesn't take 'no' well, Aella. He prefers to make his requests... irresistible."

Twenty-four hours later, the "request" turned into a royal command.

"Aella, the portal just updated," Pamela said, walking into my office. Her burgundy wolf was pacing restlessly in her mind.

The Dragon King had issued a global decree. The Academy was now a mandatory summons for all Alphas, Heirs, and their highest-ranking Beta assistants between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-seven. If a sovereign leader in that age bracket refused to attend, their lands would be annexed.

The notice was final: All attendees have exactly two weeks to prepare before the beginning of the term.

"He’s forcing my hand," I whispered.

"It's worse than that," Pamela noted, pointing to the fine print. "As your Beta and Head of Security, I’m forced to attend as well. We fall right into the age bracket, along with Maxwell and Amelie."

"Two weeks," I said, my voice tight with frustration. "Fourteen days to ensure this empire can survive my absence. The King wants an investor? Fine. But he’s going to learn that I am not a student to be managed. I am a storm he just invited into his house."

I turned to Pamela, my resolve hardening. "Ready the private transport. If we have to go to this Academy, we aren't going as subjects. We’re going as the owners of the world."