สิ้นสายใยรัก ตัดขาดสัมพันธ์สวาท

The War of a Hundred Years

Three hundred years ago…

before the realm fractured…

before the Moon fell silent…

There was a war of wars.

Not the kind whispered about in pack halls.

Not the kind fought over land, power, or pride.

This war was of internal rot.

It started quietly, like something festering beneath the skin.

At first, they called it wolf madness.

A snapped temper by a Luna.

A brutal punishment by the head warrior. An Alpha tearing into his own warriors for no reason at all. Alpha intentionally torchering slaves with rage and debauchery.

But madness didn’t spread like this.

Madness didn’t whisper.

Because this was not just a realm of werewolves.

This was a kingdom.

A kingdom of Lycans and werewolves.

And both…

were falling.

The portals between realms had been weakening for years.

From the human realm…

to the dragon realm…

across the fairy lands...

to the vampire kingdom...

even the elven kingdom was under attack...

And through those fractures, they came.

Demons.

Not mindless creatures.

Not beasts.

But something far worse.

They were patient.

They were calculating.

And they did not invade a land in a typical fashion, no…

they infiltrated through the souls of each creature.

They seeped into the minds of wolves.

Into pups dreams.

Into grief of those who lost a loved one.

Into ambition of those who want more power.

A whisper in the dark.

A promise of power.

A voice that sounded like your own…

telling you to take more.

to become more.

To rule their people.

Mates began turning on each other.

Not with just normal arguments. Not family misunderstandings, but by slaughter, that was brutal, sudden, and merciless.

Packs collapsed from within before any enemy even reached their borders.

Because the enemy was already inside.

And some…

didn’t fight it.

Some welcomed it.

Alphas who hungered for power beyond their bloodline. Warriors who craved strength without earning it. Even Lycans, royal born, believed they were owed more than destiny had given them.

They listened to the demonic whispers.

They obeyed the taunts.

They betrayed the rules of the Moon Goddess.

They opened gates that should have never been touched.

They led demons straight into their own homes.

And when the blood began to spill, they stood in it.

Smiling.

By the time the truth reached the royal palace…

it was already too late.

The kingdom burned.

Smoke choked the sky as screams echoed through stone halls that had stood for centuries.

King Alaric stood at the center of it all bloodied, breath heavy, his blade slick with blackened blood.

His eyes scanned the chaos.

“Where are the pups?” he demanded, voice raw.

Across the hall, Queen Tabitha emerged from the shadows, her gown torn, her hands glowing faintly with magic.

“Alaric…” Her voice shook, but her gaze did not. “The lower halls are gone. They’re inside.”

A roar shook the entire palace.

Not a wolf.

Not a lycan.

Something unnatural was taking over.

Alaric’s chest tightened.

“We’re losing.”

Not in fear, but it was the truth.

“Take the pups and go,” he said, grabbing her arms. “You can hide them. You’re stronger than this chaos, get them out.”

Tabitha shook her head immediately.

“No.”

“Tabitha... ”

“No!” Her voice cracked, grief tearing through her. “My parents are dead. My sister is dead. Your brothers, most of your bloodline, they’re gone, Alaric!”

Her breath hitched.

“All we have left… is who's here right now.”

The flames. The blood. The last of their people fighting to death.

“And I will not run.”

The shadow demons gathered.

Not cast by fire.

Not cast by light.

But moving… on their own.

The royals were surrounded.

Twelve shadow demons.

Their forms flickered between solid and smoke, their eyes glowing like dying embers.

Alaric stepped in front of his Queen.

“Go,” he said one last time.

She didn’t budge.

The attack came fast. Too damn fast.

Blades forged from shadow figures which sliced through flesh as if it were nothing.

Alaric watched as his youngest brother Kurt was gutted where he stood and his mate falling beside him before she could scream.

Something inside him snapped.

A roar tore from his chest as he lunged forward, his wolf surging to the surface.

“TABITHA, GO!”

She ran.

Not away, but deeper into the castle.

To move the pups.

The hidden corridors twisted beneath the palace.

They were ancient, protected, and secret.

Or so they thought.

Tabitha gathered her children, pulling them close as her magic flared violently.

“Stay behind me,” she whispered.

Her voice trembled.

Not from fear.

But from knowing the unknown.

They weren’t alone.

The shadows found them.

They always did.

They closed in, secretly moving in silence, and it was suffocating.

Tabitha drew from the depths of her power and screamed a soul trapping screech.

The sound ripped through the corridor, and it was raw, magical, and devastating.

Demons staggered.

Their forms began to become destabilized, then one by one they exploded into ash.

But not all of them.

Never all of them.

The air shifted and it became heavy, wrong, and other worldly ancient.

Then he appeared like smoke folding into shape.

The Demon Shadow King.

His red eyes burned into me.

His smile was slow and cruel.

“Well…” he murmured, voice scraping against reality itself, “the Queen.”

Tabitha stood taller, placing herself between him and her children.

“Touch them,” she said, her voice trembling with power, “and I will rip this realm apart to take you with me."

He chuckled.

Then moved.

Too fast. As she felt the pain of Alaric being torn apart she stumbled.

The demons blade pierced her chest.

A broken sound left her lips as her magic flickered violently.

“Mother!”

Her children ran.

They didn’t understand.

They couldn’t.

One by one they were cut down.

Tabitha watched.

Helpless.

Dying.

Shattering.

Tears streamed down her face.

“Please…” she whispered.

Not to him.

Never to him.

To her. The Moon Goddess.

Her eyes lifted.

Glowing white.

Burning with the last of her soul.

“This is your last stand.”

Her power erupted.

Light tore through darkness.

The ground split.

The air screamed.

Demons disintegrated into nothing.

Even the Shadow King faltered his form unraveling as the force pushed him back into the abyss.

And then it was silence.

Too late.

The realm had already fallen.

The royal line…

was gone.

High above, bound by laws even she could not break, the Moon Goddess watched.

And for the first time she fell to her knees.

“I am sorry,” she whispered to the souls rising before her.

Her children.

Her wolves.

Her Lycans.

“I could not stop it… but I will not let this be the end.”

Her power surged across the realm, forcing the remaining demons back into the underworld.

But the cost…

was everything.

Because this was not just a war of monsters.

This was a war of choice.

Of loyalty… and betrayal.

Of wolves who stood for their realm

and wolves who sold it for power.

Still…

not everything was lost.

Far from the bloodshed, hidden deep within a cave…

a boy trembled.

Alone.

Crying.

The last of the royal wolves as sixty percent of the werewolves and seventy-five percent of the lycans have been decimated.

She appeared before him in soft, silver light.

Not as a goddess.

But as something gentle.

Something reassuring.

“Tiberius…”

He looked up, shaking.

“You are the last of the royal line,” she said softly.

His breath caught.

“But the world cannot know.”

She knelt before him, placing her hand over his head.

Light poured into him.

Sealing his power.

Hiding his royal marks.

Protecting his lineage.

“I will hide your marks. Your power. Your truth. You will live as one of them… a normal Alpha wolf and not a royal lycan, until the time comes.”

“When?” he whispered.

She smiled—sad, knowing.

“When the Moon chooses again.”

Her voice echoed across time itself.

“When corruption poisons the throne…

and the realm forgets the will of the Moon…

I shall choose two.

Two sacred bonds born beneath the same sky.

Their unity will awaken the forgotten crown.

Their blood will protect the child of the Moon.

And through them…

the royal line will rise again.”

The light faded.

Tiberius stood alone.

But not powerless.

And somewhere in the future…

fate had already begun to move.