Chapter 1

The midday sun over the Kenneally Pack was a blinding, oppressive gold, but it was nothing compared to the herbal fire stinging Kreygan Lavigne’s skin. The Wolf-Bane salve was doing its job, suppressing his majestic Alpha aura into the dull, muted scent of a wandering laborer. To the guards at the gate, he was just another drifter looking for coin.

He adjusted the heavy burlap sack on his shoulder, his eyes scanning the village square. He wasn't here by accident. For generations, the Lavigne Alphas had lived by a singular, whispered oracle etched into the black stone of their ancestral vault:

"The Sun of Kenneally shall bring the Lavigne line to its peak; her light shall turn their iron into undying gold. But beware the Shadow, for she is the thief of empires, the anchor that drags the King into the dust."

Kreygan had memorized those words before he could even shift. He grew up believing that his soul was a weapon, and every weapon needed a forge. In his mind, there was only one "Sun" in this territory capable of fulfilling that destiny. He saw her almost immediately. Serefy Kenneally was standing near the village well, her golden hair shimmering like a polished coin.

There she is, Kreygan thought, a cold, ambitious pride swelling in his chest. My future. The light that will turn my iron blood into a legend. To win her, he had adopted the name Greg. He wanted to see if the "Sun" would shine on a mere peasant, proving she was the partner his legacy required.

But as he stepped into the square, the world tilted.

A sudden, violent vibration erupted in his chest—a tectonic shift of the soul. His inner wolf, usually a disciplined commander, let out a deafening, primal roar that vibrated against his ribs, nearly shattering his "Greg" persona.

MATE.

Kreygan’s head snapped to the left. He ignored the fountain, ignored the golden Serefy, and locked onto a figure standing in the cool, grey shadows of the laundry lines.

Floreighn Amara Kenneally.

She was draped in a simple, charcoal-colored dress, her silver-white hair escaping its braid in messy wisps. She was holding a basket of damp linens, but as their eyes met, the basket hit the dirt with a thud that sounded like a funeral drum in the sudden silence of their shared connection.

The air between them thickened, turning into a heavy, electric soup of pheromones and ancient magic. Despite the suppressant salve, Kreygan’s wolf clawed at the walls of his mind, desperate to break through the "commoner" shell and claim the female who smelled of rain-washed lilies and ozone.

Before he could stop himself, his feet moved. He followed her as she retreated into the narrow, shadowed alleyway between the granary and the laundry lines. The tension was agonizing. Floreighn’s breath hitched as Kreygan backed her against the rough wooden wall. Her wolf let out a low, submissive purr, a sound of pure, instinctive recognition.

Kreygan’s own wolf answered with a rumbling, possessive growl that vibrated through his chest and into hers. The heat of the bond was intoxicating. Kreygan let out a jagged breath, his hands slamming against the wood on either side of her head, pinning her. He leaned in, his nose grazing the sensitive skin of her pulse point.

He wanted her. For one heartbeat, he wanted to rip away the commoner’s rags, reveal his Alpha strength, and mark her right there in the dirt. His lips moved toward hers, drawn by a gravity he couldn't fight.

But then, the second half of the prophecy echoed in his mind like a curse. “Beware the Shadow... the anchor that drags the King into the dust.”

He looked down at Floreighn. She was pale. She was a servant. She was the Shadow Twin who lived in the corners of the world. The oracle hadn't just promised him a Sun; it had warned him about her. She wasn't his mate; she was the thief of empires sent by the Goddess to test his resolve. She was the anchor meant to keep him a commoner forever.

Kreygan’s eyes, which had begun to glow with a molten Alpha gold, suddenly turned cold and flat. The heat vanished, replaced by a wall of ice. He didn't just pull away; he grabbed Floreighn’s wrists and wrenched them off him, shoving her back against the wall with a force that made her flinch.

"Get away from me," he spat, his voice a low, venomous hiss.

Floreighn stumbled, the haze of the bond shattered. "W-What's... what's wrong? You felt it. Our wolves..."

Kreygan let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He stepped closer, towering over her with a cruelty that made her blood run cold.

"I felt a moment of heat, nothing more. You actually thought a man like me would want a shadow like you? You’re just a desperate girl who threw herself at a traveler in the dirt like a common harlot."

The color drained from Floreighn’s face. The humiliation was a physical weight.

"I was curious," Kreygan lied, his voice loud and arrogant. "I am here for Serefy—the only one in this pack with actual light. You? You’re just the dirt under her boots."

Kreygan kept his back to the alley, his heart thundering against his ribs like a trapped beast. Every step toward Serefy felt like pulling a limb through jagged glass.

The Mate Bond was screaming, a high-pitched psychic frequency that demanded he turn around, crawl back into that shadow, and beg for the girl’s forgiveness.

'But why, Moon Goddess?' he cursed silently, his fingers curling into tight fists. 'Why is the Goddess so tricky that she even made that shadow twin my bond? This is a mistake!'

He reached the village fountain, the cool mist hitting his face, but it couldn't douse the fire in his blood. He looked at Serefy—her golden hair, her expensive silks, the way she commanded the space around her. She was the picture of a Prophesied Luna. She was the "Sun" that would turn his iron into gold.

And then there was Floreighn. A laundry cleaner. A girl who smelled of lye and damp earth. A girl who was supposed to be the "Anchor" that dragged him into the dust.

'Clearly a mistake,' he repeated, a mantra to drown out his wolf’s whimpering. 'I have traveled so far for the Sun, for Serefy. For a lady, not a girl who scrubs the floors of the pack I intend to dominate.'

"My Lady Serefy," he said, bowing low. "My name is Greg. I've traveled far to find work... and perhaps, if the stars are kind, a reason to stay."

'And that girl? Why do I feel like the bond was actually real?'