Chapter One: Captured For The Lord Alpha.

A Century Years Ago.....

From today onwards, Lucian.” I said the words softly. Tears blurring my vision as I watched the man in front of me. “I, Elena Snow reject you as my mate.”

For a moment, the cave reigned in silence. But

then he broke it with a long sinister laugh.

“And if I refuse?” He asked, brows raised with mocking grin.

“Then,” I said, my gaze fluttering. “I will have no choice than to kill you.”

He tilted his head, his grin widening as he said the next words in a cold final tone. “Then, Do it.”

I inhaled sharply, realizing that the time I dreaded most had finally come. The time I killed the mad king.

“You give me no choice, Lucian.” I said as I stepped forward and lifted my hands. A weave of light charging out of me, filling the cave, ready to strike when I locked my eyes with his.

My greatest mistake.

In seconds, he spunnef through the air, jumping at me as he shifted into his wolf form. His claws dragged my flesh, pain stinging my body as he tore and shredded it to pieces.

Soon, he finished and tossed my body aside. Looking at me with sickening pleasure as I choked on my blood.

And as I watched him, stand there, looking at me with a mocking grin as I breathed my last.

I realized he was no longer the man I loved.

He was now Draken, Son of the Dark.

Present Day.....

I woke up with a start, gasping for air as echoes of the screams faded in my memory. I staggered out of bed and rushed into the washroom, splashing my face with water.

The dreams never ended. They only waited in the darkness, lurking around for me to shut my eyes again.

I was not your typical heroine. I had no rich father, or a tragic tale of stolen wealth or hidden noble bloodline.

I was just Amara Terrin, the lowly daughter of a lowly Omega. A girl who lived in the filth of Falme.

A place where dreams died and wolves went to rot.

I grabbed a cloth, mopped my face dry, and made my way to the kitchen, scowling my face as the familiar smell of vegetable soup hit my nose.

"Vegetable soup again, Mother?" I asked, wrinkling my nose as I stepped in.

Mother looked up, her eyes red and watery from the smoke the old stove emitted."That's the only thing we have, dear."

I sighed, slapping my head with a palm, “The only thing we have or the only thing you keep insisting on cooking? Why do you do this mother?”

“Because,” she mused, “ Ever since you found out you can't wolf out like the others, you have been avoiding meat.”

I shifted uncomfortably,, “I—”

“You don’t have to be ashamed, Amara,” She said, cutting me off with a warm smile. “You will find a way. One way or another.”

I grunted, frustrated with how she acted like everything was fine. “You know that I will never wolf out, mother. I am… different. I don’t have skin and hair like you. My shade is darker and my hair isn’t soft or flowing like yours.”

She shook her head, looking at me with a mixture of pity and concern.

“Believe me, Amara,” she whispered, “There are people out there exactly like you. Beyond these plains.”

I scoffed, “You say that like you’ve seen them yourself. You have not even been to the borders of Falme.”

She only smiled and returned her gaze to the soup.

"Your visions." She asked." Do they still come?”

I shuddered as the memories flashed.

“Yes.”

“And you still see the man. The one you call Drakan?”

“Yes, Mother. Clear as day.”

She frowned, “I fear your visions are tied to the last great battle.”

I let out a short, bitter laugh. “Let me guess, it all connects to the Moon Goddess's Reborn, right?”

She hesitated, her expression unreadable. "Maybe. The goddess moves in ways we can’t understand.”

I turned away, grunting frustratedly. “If the Moon Goddess has any plan at all, I promise you. It has nothing to do with m—”

Bang!

My words cut short as the door burst open, heavy boots stomping in. Mother and I watch in panic as the mean looking soldiers barged in.

“On your knees!” One of them barked, pointing a blade at us.

My heart dropped as I and Mother fall on our knees immediately, eyes darting in fear as I gazed at the soldiers.

There were four of them, wearing black armor. Armors that bore the image of the red wolf and that meant one thing, they were men of the king.

Lord Alpha Tirion.

One stepped forward and pointed the blade closer to me, “Who among you is Amara Terrin?”

My heart rammed into my chest.

“I said—” the soldier snarled and grabbed my mother roughly forward, pressing the blade against her throat. “Tell us who you are girl, or your mother dies.”

“No,” I yelled, throwing myself forward. “Stop! I am Amara Terrin.”

The soldier paused, his gaze softening for a moment . But then, it vanished.

“On the name of the King,” he said in a cold, merciless tone, “We take what is his.”

In a swift sharp movement, he dragged the blade across her neck.

“No!” I screamed, rushing forward as he dropped her on the floor. Her blood gushed like a river, painting the ground red.

I cried and held on to her lifeless body. My world shattering to a thousand pieces when a soldier comes towards me and lunges the bottom of his sword against my head, sending everything into darkness.

******

Pain.

I woke up with a gasp, my head banging as my eyes adjusted to the strange environment.

The air was too clean. The sheets was too soft. The atmosphere was calm and serene. Where was I?

Then the memory hit me like a tidal wave.

Mother.

A scream built inside me, threatening to emerge but I held it back. She wouldn't want me to cry. She would want me to survive.

I looked at the surrounding once again, scanning through the mass of luxury. The place was a beautiful cage with lures waiting to trap me.

The door suddenly creaked open and a large, round woman with flaming red hair stepped inside. She held a scowl on her face and her eyes swept over me like I was dirt on her clean floor.

“You’re awake.” she said flatly. “Good.”

I blinked at her, confused.

“Name’s Maria." She continued, " I don’t do hugs, tears, or fairy tales. You’re in the palace now. Golden City. Best you start acting like you belong.”

I blinked again, Golden City?! The King’s palace?!

I felt a sudden urge to vomit.

“Why am I here?” I asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough." She snapped. "Till then, you better toughen up. This world doesn’t care about your sob story."

Her scrowl tightens, "And neither do I.”

“Now get up.” She clicked a finger. “The maids are waiting to clean you. You stink of Falme.”

Two maids appeared behind her, escorting me gently to a large bath, carved in stone and filled with steaming water.

And as they scrubbed me. I felt like they looked at me with disdain. Like I didn't belong here.

An hour glass later. I stood in front of a mirror, draped in an emerald green gown. I gasped at my reflection, the raggedly Falme girl I once knew disappearing in the mass of luxury.

Maria returned, her scowl still present.

“You’re being presented to the Mothers of the Palace,” she said. “Keep your mouth shut unless spoken to. And for moon’s sake, try to look less… confused.”

I only nodded.

We walked through the palace, navigating wide marble halls, past guards, past large dining halls, past golden banners.

Finally, we arrived at a grand chamber, where nine other girls stood. Girls that screamed of nobility and wealth.

They all paused, staring at me as I walked in.

"What is a girl from Falme doing here?" One of them murmured, pointing at me.

"Forget Falme," another one said ."what is wrong with her skin? And her hair? She looks…… darker.”

I coughed nervously and stood in line.

A tall woman entered and the murmuring seized. Her expression was soft and kind. Unlike the other that trailed behind her, who held a sharper and quiet judgmental gaze.

The kinder one smiled warmly at the girls, offering nods and praise. The sharper one followed behind, only smiling at a particular set of girls before she paused at me.

“And what is a girl from Falme doing here.” she asked, scanning me from head to toe. “Especially one with…..that skin?”

I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms when the other woman intervened.

“She’s here on the Elder’s bidding.” She said. “He insisted.”

“So?” The sharper woman scoffed. “Should we allow every filth and rot from Falme taint us?”

The other woman made to speak when a voice suddenly cut in,

“As a mother of the four kingdoms, Begritta.” The deep gruff voice suddenly said from behind. “You seem too cruel.”

Immediately, silence befall in the hall as we all turned, gasping at the sight before us.

Tall. Commanding. Clothed in power and mystery.

Lord Tirion stood, looking back at us with a cold menacing grin.

My breath stopped, a cold chill sweeping through my skin as I stared at his face.

Those eyes, They were familiar.

I had seen them before. They held the same cold and merciless gaze, like the man in my dreams.

Like the man I called,

"Drakan."