Chapter Six: The Crown Prince’s Curse

The mark burned again.

Sebastian Blackthorn’s eyes snapped open in the suffocating darkness of his chamber. His breath came shallow, each inhale a ragged rasp as though invisible hands pressed down against his chest. Sweat clung to his skin, dampening the sheets tangled around his body. For a moment he lay still, frozen in the haze of sleep and memory. But the searing pain jolted him fully awake.

He threw the sheets aside, pulling at the robe clinging to him. His gaze fell to his chest.

There it was.

The crest.

It pulsed faintly against his skin, glowing like molten silver carved into his flesh. Each throb was a reminder. A curse. A chain.

“Glowing again,” he muttered bitterly, the words breaking into the silence of his chambers. His lips curled into a humorless smirk, but the expression was hollow mockery masking regret.

He pressed his palm against the mark, trying to silence its burn. But nothing worked. Not pressure. Not prayer. Not even pretending it wasn’t there. Because the moment he shut his eyes, the memories surged back the same ones he tried so hard to bury.

The memory of that night.

The night he wished he had stayed locked in his room.

The night he wished the Moon Goddess had spared him from temptation.

The night he crossed a line that could never be uncrossed.

Sebastian clenched his jaw until it hurt. He could conquer wars, endure endless training, and master every weapon placed in his hand. But he could not silence this. No throne. No crown. No amount of royal blood could erase the truth that haunted him.

The truth of what he had done.

Sebastian Blackthorn. Crown Prince of the Royal Bloodline Pack. Only son of Alpha King Alaric and Queen Seraphina. Heir to the last royal line of wolves.

To the kingdom, he was untouchable. A legend in the making. The boy born to carry the weight of an empire. His father told him often: You will be king. You will rule. You will not break.

To the people, he was revered. Their future. Their pride.

But to himself? He was never allowed to be just a boy.

From the moment he could walk, his life was mapped out before him. At dawn, training began. The courtyard rang with the clash of swords and the King’s voice booming like thunder.

“Again!” Alaric’s command cut through the air. Even when Sebastian’s knuckles split and bled from gripping the hilt, there was no mercy. His muscles screamed, his lungs burned, yet he lifted the sword again. Failure was not an option. Not for a prince.

The King did not hate his son. But neither did he soften for him. Alaric forged him like steel relentless, merciless because weakness was death, and a weak king was worse than no king at all.

The only softness Sebastian knew came from his mother. Queen Seraphina, the Moon Queen, they called her. Her voice was gentle as wind, her touch the only balm against the storm of his father’s demands. She kissed his bruised knuckles, brushed damp hair from his brow after grueling training, and whispered when the stars filled the sky.

“One day, my son, the Moon Goddess will bless you with a mate. She will be your strength, your equal. When the bond comes, you will understand what it means to be whole.”

Back then, Sebastian believed her. He smiled, bright and innocent, dreaming of love fierce and endless. He even sketched wolves and constellations in the margins of his books his secret rebellion against the war-forged bloodline he carried.

But all of that changed on his sixteenth birthday.

The palace gathered that night, every noble and warrior waiting to witness the awakening of the Crown Prince’s wolf. Torches lit the sacred hall. Drums thundered. His father stood tall, his mother trembling beside him.

Sebastian stepped before the sacred flame. Anticipation surged in every heartbeat. His hands shook, but pride lifted his chin. This was the moment his life truly began.

And then pain.

His bones cracked. His body twisted in agony. Screams tore from his throat, raw and endless. He collapsed, writhing on the stone floor. His vision blurred. His nails ripped against the ground.

“Enough! He’s just a boy!” Seraphina cried, rushing forward.

But the King’s voice was unyielding. “He must endure. If he cannot conquer this, he cannot rule.”

The pain was unbearable. Sebastian thought death would claim him then and there. But at the breaking point, the fire inside him roared to life. His body shifted, rebuilt itself bone by bone.

When silence fell, a massive wolf stood in his place. Its fur was midnight black, glossy like obsidian. Its eyes burned with unnatural light, piercing and fierce. Gasps filled the hall. Even Alaric faltered for a heartbeat, awe flickering in his usually cold eyes.

But then

Sebastian inhaled.

And the room fell silent for another reason.

No wolf scent rose from him. None at all. Instead, his aura carried the faint, undeniable stench of humanity.

Confusion twisted into horror. The Crown Prince the heir to the Royal Bloodline smelled like prey.

From that day forward, Sebastian was no longer the hopeful boy who dreamed of mates and constellations. He buried that child. In his place grew a weapon, cold and disciplined. He trained longer, fought harder, punished himself beyond what even his father demanded. If he could not smell like a wolf, he would fight like one tenfold.

Alaric summoned witches, healers, seers everyone with knowledge of curses and blessings. None could explain it. The boy carried Alpha blood, his power undeniable. Yet his scent remained shrouded, masked as though something ancient hid him from the world.

Was it the Moon Goddess’s curse? A blessing yet to be revealed? None had answers.

To Sebastian, it was a prison.

And as years passed, another wound grew deeper. He never found his mate.

Four years he searched, wandering beyond palace walls, following every whisper of a bond. Nothing. No pull. No spark. Each failure chipped away at him until hope itself felt like a cruel joke.

By twenty, he stopped looking.

Hope was for fools.

It was Caius, his closest friend and soon-to-be Beta, who tried to pull him back from that darkness.

Caius was everything Sebastian wasn’t loud, reckless, alive. His laughter filled spaces Sebastian left empty. He teased him relentlessly, daring him to live.

One night, Caius slapped him on the back with a grin. “Come on, Your Highness. One night away from the palace won’t kill you. There’s a pub near the border you need ale, women, maybe even a song to shake that ice off your bones.”

Sebastian scowled, but followed. Maybe because some buried part of him still longed for distraction. Maybe because Caius was the only one who ever saw him as more than a crown.

The pub was alive firelight flickering, laughter echoing, music pulsing through the floorboards. Caius dove headfirst into it, whistling at the women, tossing coins, cracking jokes. Within minutes, a pretty brunette had dragged him onto the dance floor, their laughter ringing out.

Sebastian sat alone at the table, brooding.

“Whiskey. Strongest you’ve got,” Caius had ordered before vanishing. When the drinks arrived, Sebastian reached for his glass without hesitation.

The burn hit his throat like fire. But this wasn’t whiskey.

It was firebrandy.

A volatile liquor brewed with wolfroot. Dangerous. Addictive. Deadly to some, intoxicating to others.

Within moments, his body lit with heat. His chest tightened. His skin crawled. His vision blurred. The pub walls pressed in on him.

He staggered outside, gasping for air. The night wind did nothing. The heat inside him clawed and raged. His wolf surged, snarling, desperate for release.

And then

The scent.

It struck him like lightning. Sweet. Intoxicating. Irresistible. It wrapped around his senses, dragged him deeper into the forest like a chain. His wolf roared one word inside him, deafening.

Mate.

His body moved before thought. His vision tunneled until only her remained the girl. Her hair shimmered like spun silver beneath the moon, her body outlined by its glow. She looked so fragile, so unaware.

He stumbled closer, the haze consuming him. His chest burned. His wolf howled louder. The pull was unbearable.

And then he was on her.

Her cries shattered the night. Her hands clawed, her body resisted. But the haze drowned reason, drowned humanity. He was no longer Sebastian he was only wolf, only fire, only hunger.

By the time the fire lifted, it was too late.

The haze broke. Clarity returned.

And Sebastian saw.

Her face. Her terror. The mark searing into her skin. The purity ripped from her by his hands.

His wolf howled in anguish. His heart shattered.

And then he ran.

He ran as though death itself chased him.

Caius found him stumbling back into the pub, pale and shaking.

“Where the hell were you?” Caius demanded, frowning. “Do you have any idea what would happen if your parents knew”

“Home. Now.” Sebastian’s voice was ice, sharp enough to slice. His expression was unreadable, a mask of stone.

Caius froze. The command of a Crown Prince brooked no argument.

Sebastian never explained. He couldn’t.

He carried the curse in silence. The burn of the glowing crest a constant reminder. And somewhere, deep in Silverfang lands, the girl he had scarred wept beneath the same merciless moon.