His Cursed Bloodline

The leather straps of Kaelen Draven’s hunting armor creaked as he pulled them tight across his chest. The room was filled with metallic crispness with a lingering scent of frozen pine needles and crushed granite that followed him from his constant visit to the North Ridge.

The cold air was drifting in through the tall windows of Ironfang Keep Pack. The polished floor partially covered by thick, charcoal-grey faux-fur rugs kept the room warm with the heater slowly blowing in the background.

The recessed LED strips glow in the dim light that puts attention on the wall made of rough black rock. A large black metal desk with glowing screens and maps was by the side of the room where the hunting knives and the ceremonial blade of the Alpha heir were hanging above the ground.

He looked into the mirror, his hand trying to fix the tip of his tight matte-black compression shirt that showed his powerful build with a professional look. His tall stature was staring back at him in the mirror with broad shoulders and dark hair pulled back at the nape of his neck.

Even in his human form, his golden eyes were still glowing, showing his strong dominance as a prince raised to rule wolves. However, with that confidence, there was still a restless look in his eyes.

"You're thinking too much again," a voice rumbled inside his head, breaking through the silence.

Kaelen exhaled slowly. “I am only preparing,” he muttered under his breath.

“Preparing is tightening the strap of your armor, but when you stare at your reflection as if you are waiting for it to attack, that’s thinking.” Kaelen rolled his eyes.

His wolf, Ravok, had never learned to be silent. He seizes every opportunity to converse with him. “You love my wisdom,” Ravok said smugly.

“I tolerate it," he attacked immediately

“Liar.”

Kaelen reached for the dagger on the table and slid it into the sheath at his thigh. It was the Blood Moon Hunt night, an ancient royal tradition where the alpha heir led the pack into the forest to prove his strength before the moon.

It was an old ritual, and Kaelen had never once failed it. It was his seventh year of leading the ritual, and his confidence only grew with the years. The door behind him creaked open.

“You look like you're going to your own funeral.”

Kaelen groaned, his eyes rolling to the back. “You were not invited.”

His sister leaned against the doorway with a grin that showed trouble. Princess Lyra Draven had the same dark hair as him but none of his seriousness. Her silver hunting cloak hung loosely over one shoulder, and mischief glistened in her amber eyes.

“You say that every time,” Lyra said. “Yet here I am.”

Kaelen turned back to the mirror. “Go annoy someone else. I have no time for this.”

“Everyone else is boring.”

She walked into the room, circling him like a cat inspecting prey.

“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Your armor is polished, hair is perfect, and that little scar on your jaw still makes you look intimidating.”

She tapped her chin. “Tragic.”

Kaelen narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“You’re still single.”

Ravok laughed in his head. ‘She has a point.”

Kaelen ignored them both, and Lyra hopped onto the table, swinging her boots.

“You know,” she continued casually, “Beta Rowan says three noble daughters have already asked Father for permission to court you.”

“I do not need a mate.”

Lyra gasped dramatically.

“Did you hear that, Ravok?” she said to the air. “Your other half intends to die lonely.”

"I object," Ravok said instantly. I enjoy females.

Kaelen pinched the bridge of his nose. “You two are unbearable.”

Lyra’s grin widened. “Admit it. You’re scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of a Luna.”

Kaelen’s gaze hardened slightly.

“A Luna stabilizes an Alpha’s power,” Lyra said more softly now. “The throne will demand it eventually.”

“I will rule without one.”

Lyra studied his expression carefully. “You sound like Father did once.”

Kaelen’s jaw tightened with the grilling. “Enough.”

Lyra sighed dramatically and slid off the table. “Fine. I’ll save my brotherly concern for another day.”

She paused at the door, then added sweetly. “Try not to get eaten tonight.”

Kaelen threw a glove at her. She ducked and ran laughing down the corridor before silence returned to the room.

Ravok huffed. She is correct, you know.

“Do not start.”

You cannot rule forever alone.

Kaelen grabbed his cloak.

“I rule with my strength.”

Strength does not warm the den.

Kaelen ignored him at that point, but Ravok’s voice lingered in his thoughts.

****

The courtyard of Ironfang Keep roared with activity. As dozens of wolves were preparing for the hunt, the warriors tightened their armor in preparation, and the Gammas were checking the weapons. Anticipation filled the air as the moon stood brightly above them.

It was extremely red and big, explaining why it was called the Blood Moon. Beta Rowan approached Kaelen with an easy stride. He had the calm confidence of a seasoned fighter with broad shoulders, a dark beard, and sharp eyes that rarely missed details.

“Ready to terrify the forest again?” Rowan asked with a soft smile.

Kaelen mounted his horse in one fluid motion. “The forest should be terrified.”

Rowan chuckled. “You sound like the legends already.”

Kaelen glanced toward the distant treeline. The Witchwood Forest went beyond the mountains, and it was like a black ocean. Only a few wolves entered there willingly because of the powerful pull.

It used to be a powerful coven of witches centuries ago before the Draven ancestors had wiped them out. At least that was the story everyone was told.

"The air smells wrong," Ravok murmured, and Kaelen frowned slightly.

What?” Rowan asked

“Nothing.”

But Ravok was already alert. Something smells wrong tonight.

The hunting party rode into the forest. The red moonlight shone through twisted trees, and the forest smelled of moss, earth, and old secrets.

Kaelen raised a hand, and the riders stopped.

“Shift,” he ordered.

Armor dropped to the forest floor, and the wolves quickly stood in their place. Immediately, Kaelen stretched as Ravok surged forward. Within seconds, his bone shifted and fur burst across his skin without hesitation.

The transformation ended with a powerful silver-black wolf standing tall amongst others. He was proud and beautiful at the same time. “Now this is better.” He murmured.

The pack spread through the trees, hunting silently. Kaelen and Rowan moved at the front, but they felt something strange. There should have been prey within the forest, but everywhere was quiet like a graveyard.

Do you hear that? Ravok whispered, and Kaelen stilled.

There was nothing exactly to hear at first, but suddenly, a scent followed the wind that almost made him puke. It smelled like rotten blood mixed with a bitter scent that could easily be tagged as magic. 

He followed the trail through thick brush until the pack emerged in a small clearing. The smell hit them hard at one point as they saw a wolf body lying in the dirt. It was one of their soldiers, but the death wasn’t the worst part; the corpse had been carved open.

There were strange symbols cut into the flesh. There were dark twisting runes burning faintly, and Rowan stepped forward cautiously.

“What in the moon’s name…”

Kaelen’s wolf growled low. “This is witchcraft.”

They were still trying to assess the situation when the faint voice whispered in the forest, “The wolf king’s blood will rot…”

The entire pack froze, and Kaelen’s fur bristled.

“Who are you?” Rowan demanded, pulling out his dagger

The voice ignored the question and answered instead. “Until he kneels… to the one he despises.”

The words echoed through the trees, and Ravok suddenly refused to move even though Kaelen tried to step forward.

His wolf held firm, grounding him. “No, not now.”

Kaelen pushed harder. “Move.”

No.

It was the first time Ravok had ever disobeyed him. The moon above them darkened slightly as clouds drifted across its red surface. Sudden laughter erupted, and everyone shuddered with the chillness.

Kaelen realized something at the moment: the curse that was spoken about had been awakened.