Chapter 2

Lysandra Pov

It has been two days since Arion returned to his family. During these two days, my sleep had been nothing but torment. Every time I closed my eyelids, eyes as dark as night came to haunt me.

The nights had turned into nightmares. Black irises appeared in my dreams, merging with oppressive, shadowy landscapes. Menacing silhouettes loomed around me, tightening their grip on me with suffocating darkness. I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding violently, unable to escape this infernal grasp.

Naturally, this was how I woke up this morning, startled, the sweat–soaked sheets clinging to my trembling body. Breathing hard, I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to calm myself down.

I stood up and walked toward the window, pulling the curtains aside to let daylight flood in. I couldn’t understand why that man had stirred so much turmoil inside me. Why did his gaze still haunt me?

I shook my head, forcing myself to escape these dark thoughts, and headed to my bathroom to freshen up. I took off my clothes, a wave of goosebumps instantly taking hold of me.

The icy wind rushed into the little den, seeping into every corner and making my bare skin shiver. Chills ran across my body, rising in waves over my arms and legs, as if the cold was sinking into my bones, freezing my limbs.

I quickly grabbed the small dome beside the rough wooden barrel and plunged it into the icy water inside. The moment my hand touched it, the cold hit me violently, as if I had submerged my fingers into a frozen lake in midwinter. The icy water streamed between my fingers, forming droplets that fell to the floor.

I hurried to pour the cold water over my body, desperate somehow to warm myself. The freezing droplets struck my bare skin with surprising force, like thousands of tiny ice spikes stabbing into me. A burning cold spread instantly, invading every inch of my skin, and I nearly screamed from the shock.

I continued pouring the water from my shoulders to my feet, leaving no spot untouched by its biting chill. My movements were fast and chaotic, as if every second mattered, like the cold could swallow me whole and leave me frozen to death in an instant.

My breath condensed in the air, creating small white swirls that vanished instantly. Finally, I emptied the barrel completely, leaving only a thin layer of icy liquid at the bottom. My body was soaked, water dripping from my hair and running down my skin, forming small puddles around me.

I had to dress quickly, wrapping myself in warm clothes to salvage what little warmth I had left.

With clumsy movements, my numb fingers grabbed my clothes. I put them on slowly, feeling a small wave of relief with every piece of fabric covering my skin. Once dressed, I stood carefully in the den, making sure not to provoke the tremors still lingering in my limbs. Then, with slightly stiff fingers, I picked up a loaf of bread. I tore off a piece, feeling the soft texture between my fingers. Bringing it to my mouth, I bit into it. Warmth and softness spread across my tongue, soothing the hunger that had gnawed at me since dawn.

As I ate, the wooden door of my den suddenly opened, revealing a tall, imposing man followed by a woman. He was massive, broad-shouldered, radiating an intimidating strength. His thick gray beard testified to his age and experience, and the wrinkles carved into his face only added to his severity.

Following him entered a young woman of breathtaking beauty. Her elegance clashed with his rugged presence. Long, golden hair framed her fair face, adorned with sharp, intelligent eyes, eyes currently clouded with disdain as they landed on me.

Both of them looked me over from head to toe.

I swallowed with difficulty.

“Father… sister,” I breathed.

“Lysandra,” he said harshly.

His tone had always been authoritarian with me, and I never understood why. Even when I was a child, before the first transfiguration ceremony, his gaze was filled with contempt. I had never known paternal warmth.

As the years passed, my disability only deepened his bitterness toward me, widening the emotional gap. We hadn’t seen each other in years.

“I am unfortunately forced to come see you today because your sister is getting married tonight. And although I have no desire for your presence, those attending know I have an elder daughter. Your absence could raise suspicion.”

At that moment, Seraphine handed me a package. The disgust in her eyes said more than any insult could.

“Try to look at least somewhat presentable,” she spat.

Nervously, I lifted my arms, trying to appear neutral. But my failure was obvious, especially to her.

With these loving words, they left, shutting the door behind them, leaving me alone again.

Night had already fallen for hours. I sat at a small table lit by a flickering candle. I combed my long black hair, brushing it gently before letting it fall over my right shoulder. I examined my reflection in the faint glow of the small mirror. My dark hair, neatly arranged, contrasted with my pale skin and cheeks flushed from the cold.

I looked nothing like my family. With their bright blue eyes and golden hair, they embodied the beauty of the Shadowmoon Pack, while I remained an enigma. My ancestors’ mysterious legacy echoed in my black hair and amber eyes.

I sighed softly as I glanced at the now–opened package Seraphine had given me. Inside was a flowing beige dress, adorned with delicate gold embroidery that shimmered in the candlelight.

I ran my fingers across the soft, light fabric. I wondered whether Seraphine had chosen this dress specifically for me.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. Was I presentable enough? I sighed, a hint of sadness tightening my chest. I wished my pack could see beyond appearances, could understand that despite my differences, I was still a member of this family.

My amber eyes flickered with uncertainty. It was time to leave.

Dressed and ready, I stepped out into the night, a strange foreboding washing over me.

I reached the camp quickly. It had been ages since I last stood here, yet nothing had changed. The wooden huts were scattered in a circular pattern, leaving a vast empty space in the middle.

At the center of the grounds stood the large platform holding three finely crafted thrones. The Alpha’s throne, the one belonging to Alpha Draven, was the biggest, with wolf engravings on the armrests and back. The two smaller thrones were meant for the Alpha’s mate and heir. But my father had no mate. His two companions had died giving birth. I had never known my mother, or Valeria, either.

The campfire burned brightly at the center, sending waves of heat across the gathering. Flames danced, casting shifting shadows on the huts.

Pack members surrounded the fire, speaking in hushed voices. Children played nearby, imitating the stealthy movements of wolves.

My heart thudded harder the closer I came. Curious eyes landed on me, followed by murmurs and stifled whispers. I wished I could fade into the background, disappear from their silent judgments.

I spotted my father standing by the throne. Seraphine sat on his right. With a stern look, he signaled for me to sit in the remaining seat at his left.

The rhythmic beat of drums broke through the air, announcing the imminent arrival of the Crimson Fang Pack. Each beat vibrated inside my chest, heightening my vulnerability. My legs trembled beneath my dress as I took my seat.

Tension thickened as everyone awaited the rival pack, a pack that had stood against us for millennia. The shrill cry of the drums cut through the night.

They were here.

And they entered with unsettling confidence, as if they owned the place.

Their Alpha walked in front, tall, imposing, radiating raw power. His broad shoulders and steady gait exuded dominance. His presence alone commanded the attention of every eye. And then his gaze met mine.

Black irises, the same ones haunting my dreams. Time froze.

My heart raced wildly, desperate to escape my chest. A shiver crawled down my spine as I drowned in the abyss of his eyes. It was as if I already knew him… as if our souls had collided long ago, in another world.

His pack followed behind him, predatory and wild. Their sharp fangs gleamed under the torchlight, warning anyone foolish enough to challenge them. Instinct screamed at me to run.

Alpha Draven stepped forward, and the Alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack finally tore his gaze away from me to meet my father’s. The tension between them was thick and dangerously quiet.

My father spoke, 

“It is here, in this place, that we celebrate today the reconciliation between the Shadowmoon Pack and the Crimson Fang Pack. Dark disputes once fueled fierce conflicts between us, conflicts born of primal instinct and ancient rivalries. But now, all of that is behind us. Under the full moon, we begin a new chapter. And so, I offer you the most precious thing I have,  the hand of my daughter Valeria, to become the mate of the Crimson Fang Pack’s Alpha.”

The wolves howled loudly in response, their united voices echoing throughout the forest and rising toward the stars.

Then,

A deep voice cut through the harmony.

The Alpha of the Crimson Fang Pack stepped forward, his gaze locking onto me, and said, 

“She is the one I want.”