"You were mated with someone from Nyxoria, how possible is that?"
Triston Valtor stood with his hands placed on his hips, looking forward. He had his long white hair held in a ponytail, with some of it sweeping over his face. His stance was rigid and his muscles and abs was obvious through the thin white shirt he had on. His sweat had dampened the material and it glued on to his body. They had ran all the way to the middle of the forest from the Nyxorian castle, heading back to Elyria and they were now very close to the border. "It shouldn't have been possible," Triston replied to the man rather calmly, "But it did happen." "And it doesn't bother you?" he asked again, "You don't seem surprised by this..." he struggled for what word to describe it and finally settle on one, "...phenomenon." Triston chuckled, and so did the other two with them. Jaxon Korvus was the Redwood pack's Delta and was considered Alpha Prince Triston's best friend. He was much too sensitive, much too detailed and maybe much too into the rules for some, but he was the best man Triston could ask for. In human form, he was built just like Triston in stature and slightly taller, he had darker skin and short wavy hair. The big man was not one for big words and hearing that word "phenomenon" roll out of his mouth was just funny, but Triston reasoned what he had meant. Sure it had been surprising to him when it had happened. He was twenty five and had attented all the mating ceremonies held in Elyria ever since he had turned eighteen, but had failed to find his mate. Elyria's mating ceremony was set to happen tomorrow night, and he had hoped to find his mate this year, but nothing had prepared him for what had happened when he had unknowingly knocked that girl to the ground. "...mate..." the voice had dropped in his heart as soon as he had stretched his hand out to her, "Mate," he had said out loud almost immediately without thinking. "What would you have had him do, Jaxon?" Revin, one of the pack's Beta asked. Jaxon shrugged his shoulders, "Not acknowledge her maybe?" Revin shook his head, "Then she would acknowledge him..." "...and he would reject her," Jaxon interrupted him with a snarl, "Elyria's mating ceremony is tomorrow, how would it be explained that the Alpha Prince Triston Valtor of Elyria has found a mate in Nyxoria?" "Alpha Prince has waited more than five years to be mated, and you would have him reject the first mate he has?" Jaxon opened his mouth to speak, but looked at Triston who was not really paying them any attention but looking out into the forest. Jaxon let out a sigh and shut his mouth, then sat down on a tree stump. "Tomorrow it would be explained to the Alpha King of Elyria," Triston finally spoke, "If it would interfere with our plans then I would reject her." As he said those words, he felt a squeeze in his heart as his wolf fought him on the inside. Triston was known to have no romantic interest and he would delibrately keep himself from associating with any girl because such move could prove disasterous when your mate turned out to not be the girl you were in love with. This girl would be the first, for both him and his wolf, rejecting her surely would no come as easily as he had said it. "Are you sure about it Alpha?" Revin asked, "Chances of you finding another..." "It will be done as I have said, Revin," Triston said with a voice of finalty, he really did not want to dwell on this for any longer, "When Xaren is back, we will leave." "Speaking of Xaren," Jaxon spoke up, "Where did you send him off to?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, they heard a familiar howl and fast approaching steps. They all turned in the direction of the sound to see a wolf running towards them. The big animal leaped into the air when it was close to them and transformed, landing on two human feet, out of breath. Triston narrowed his eyes at the man. "What's wrong Xaren?" "The girl..." Xaren said, still trying to catch his breath, "...I don't think all is well, Alpha." Triston came closer to him and held him up by the shoulders, "What do you mean?" "Well, first she hid her sister and went into the house alone..." he paused before adding, "...I think she is being whipped and punished for something." "Take us there," Triston said and immediately transformed into a huge white wolf, "Take us there now!"* * * * * * *
Damaris let out a painful scream when the whip landed on her back. Her dress had been torn open by the lashes and she was bleeding. Her hands and feet had been tied with a rope and she laid on the floor of the living room. "Again mother!" Zina said to her mother excitedly as she fixed her eyes on Damaris whimpering on the floor, "Again!" Edged on by her daughter, Rhea lifted the whip again and brought it down hard on Damaris' back, drawing out another cry of pain from her, "Where is Ivone?! Where is that little demon sister of yours?!" "Mother told you both to remain in the house and not to show your faces at the mating ceremony!" Zina yelled out at Damaris, "You disobeyed! And Ivone ruined my moment with Prince Reyes! Where did you hide that little twerp!" Damaris whimpered and shook her head, if they were treating her this way for hiding Ivone, then she wondered how they would treat Ivone who had supposedly ruined Zina's moment with Prince Reyes. But then her sister being mated to Princess Maya had come as a shock, never had this happened in the history of Nyxoria, it was the strangest occurence and judging by the look Prince Reyes had given to her, she was sure that he would send people to search for Ivone. "The mating ceremony is for all Nyxorian that had come of age," Damaris dared to speak, "How could I and Ivone be made to stay out of it while Zina attends?" "You dare to compare!" Zina lashed out, feeling insulted. She seized the whip from her mother and lifted it up in the air, bringing it down on Damaris. Damaris shut her eyes tightly, anticipating the lick of the whip against her skin. She would endure this torture one last time, now that she was mated, she would finally be able to leave this house to live with her mate, and she sure as hell would take her sister along with her. She would have to convince her to break her mate bond with the princess, even though such action would have dier consequences for both girls, it would be better than being outcasted. Just before the whip came down on her the second time, there was a sudden and loud bang! and the front door crashed open, sending pieces of wood everywhere as a huge white wolf broke through, coming to lay protectively over Damaris and snapping his fangs at Zina and her mother, Rhea, who stumbled back in fright.Reyes finally turned his head to her, that smirk lingering. “And here I was, thinking you’d cry over me when you saw the bandages.”She raised a brow. “I doubt I would have cried even if you were brought back with much worse injuries. Or dead..”"Look at that! Did you hear her speak, Reyes?!" Zina scoffed, “She’s a traitor. A spy. And you’re letting her stand here and—”“Zina,” Reyes cut in sharply, his voice firm, “leave.”“What?”“I need to speak with Ivone.”Zina's mouth opened, her eyes widening in disbelief. “But I—”“Now.” He didn’t yell. He didn’t snarl. But the authority in his voice made even the guards at the door stiffen.Zina hesitated, shooting one last poisonous glare at Ivone, then turned on her heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind her. Silence fell. Reyes turned back to Ivone, his expression unreadable now. Only the faintest glint of something—relief? regret? longing?—touched his eyes."Zina claims you’re a spy—sent by Triston," He said, his voice measured, b
The castle gates thundered open as Reyes rode through, bloodied but unbowed. A dark stain had spread across his side where Triston's blade had met flesh. Despite the pain searing through his abdomen, his posture on the horse was rigid, unshaken, his jaw locked tight with fury.Dathan rode close beside him, shouting for the physicians as they dismounted. Servants scrambled through the courtyard, making way for the wounded Alpha. Reyes brushed off the helping hands that reached for him, striding forward with fire in his steps as he made his way to his chambers where the medics quickly set to work peeling off his armor and treating the knife wound at his side.He winced but said nothing, eyes burning—not from the pain, but from something far more dangerous.“Where is Ivone? Bring her to me,” he growled to the nearest guard. “Now.”The guard froze, hesitated and Reyes turned his head, slowly, his voice cutting sharper. “Did you not hear me?”The guard swallowed visibly and took a step for
Ivone sat in the corner of the cold dungeon, her back pressed to the damp stone wall, knees tucked to her chest. The torches lining the corridor outside flickered wearily, casting long, flickering shadows through the bars of her cell. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling or the distant shuffle of guards. But her mind wasn’t in the dungeon. It was in the library, lost in scrolls and ink and secrets far too heavy for parchment to bear. Annora Thorold, a princess of Elyria. The name lingered in her thoughts like smoke, but what had shaken her most was not the name itself, but the fact that it was written into Nyxorian history. Both kingdoms had always been fractured, tangled in blood and politics, their borders drawn more in war than peace. So why had an Elyrian royal been recorded in Nyxoria’s scrolls? And why had someone deliberately hidden the details of her death? She remembered the scroll’s edge, darkened by smudged ink. It had been
Triston stood rooted to the scorched ground, every muscle in his body taut with fury, yet perfectly controlled. His golden eyes, hard as tempered steel, never once left Reyes, locked onto him with the unblinking focus of a predator. The silence between them cracked with tension, the kind that tasted like blood before the first blow was even struck. His hatred wasn’t loud, it lived deep in his bones, forged from vengeance, and the cold truth of what had been taken from him. The wind swept through the battlefield, lifting strands of his hair, and for the briefest moment, he looked like the ghost of a war that had never ended. He turned slightly, the movement slow and deliberate, his voice was low, but it cut through the space between them with the precision of a blade honed over years of loss. "I came to end this.” He paused, letting the words hang between them like the prelude to judgment. Then, his eyes narrowed even further, his rage sharpening into pure resolve. “And I will.” T
Reyes’s teeth found his injured shoulder, the very spot where the poisoned arrow had once sunk deep. Triston let out a howl of pain as the bite tore into old wounds, his front leg buckling slightly. Blood bloomed fast and thick over his fur. The Nyxorian Alpha didn’t relent. He tore again, shaking his head like a predator trying to rip a limb from bone. Triston’s body slammed into the earth, a snarl of fury ripped from his throat. Reyes loomed, dominance momentarily flashing in his coal-black eyes. But he had underestimated the fire in his opponent. He stepped in for the final strike— And Triston surged. With a primal roar, the Elyrian Alpha twisted, hind legs digging into the dirt, and launched upward. His jaws closed around Reyes’s throat—not deep enough to kill, but enough to lift and slam him sideways. Reyes hit the ground hard. Triston followed, claws raking over his ribs, driving him back with a series of savage, precise bites. He was no longer fighting just to win. He was fig
The scorched remains of the second Nyxorian village still whispered with heat, blackened skeletal beams jutting from ashen rubble like charred bones. Smoke curled upward into the sky, thick with the stench of fire, iron, blood, and vengeance. Triston sat atop his black warhorse at the front lines, his figure carved in steel and wrath, He didn’t move, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, each breath a restraint, each exhale a promise. His eyes, narrowed and locked on the horizon, burned with purpose. The sunlight slanted across his bare forearms, his sleeves rolled up, revealing the faded bandages that still hugged his right shoulder. The wound left by the poisoned arrow had not yet fully healed and though the pain still haunted the joint where the poisoned arrow had once lodged, he held the reins without flinching, his fingers curled firmly around it, steady despite the occasional tremor he no longer acknowledged, his grip unwavering, showing no sign of weakness. His right