Semua Bab REJECTED BY FATE, CLAIMED BY THE ALPHA KING : Bab 41 - Bab 50

The night sky burned with a crimson glow. The Blood Moon had risen, painting the forest in shades of scarlet. Its strange light shimmered on every branch and every ripple of water, filling the world with an eerie, otherworldly radiance.Aria stood on the cliffside, breath catching in her throat as she gazed at the moon. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her heart pounding in time with the steady hum of power thrumming through the air. The wolf inside her stirred with an intensity that made her skin prickle.It is time, her wolf whispered, the voice fierce yet reverent. The Blood Moon has chosen us.Aria swallowed hard. She had shifted before, painfully, awkwardly, still learning her balance. But this—this felt different. The air was alive with power, every gust of wind heavy with ancient magic. The moon itself seemed to be watching, demanding something of her.Behind her, Lorien approached quietly, his dark cloak blending into the shadows of the forest. “The Blood Moon,” he murmured, h

Kaelen stormed from his chamber into the night, the Blood Moon bleeding scarlet across the heavens. Its glow bathed the stone walls of the Silverfang fortress in crimson, making the world look as though it had been dipped in fire. His chest ached, each breath ragged, his heart hammering like a war drum.Magnus snarled in his head, restless, prowling. She rises. She glows. Do you feel it? Do you taste her scent in the wind?Kaelen clenched his fists, trying to steady himself. “It’s just the Blood Moon,” he muttered, though the words rang hollow.Liar, Magnus snapped. This is no trick of the sky. She is awake. Our mate is awake.Kaelen’s vision flickered with the image he couldn’t banish: a wolf of pure white, glowing under the crimson moonlight, eyes blazing silver like twin flames. He had never seen her before—yet somehow he knew. Every nerve, every bone in his body screamed it.Aria.The name tasted like regret and longing all at once.Behind him, footsteps clicked on the stone floor

The village had returned to uneasy quiet, though the air still smelled of blood and smoke. Ash clung to the rooftops where torches had been thrown, and the dirt streets bore the scars of battle. Yet beneath the exhaustion, a strange kind of hope shimmered. People moved slowly, whispering to each other, their voices carrying fragments of the same phrase again and again.The Blessed Wolf.The Blessed Luna.Sent by the Goddess herself.Aria sat beneath a great oak on the village outskirts, her body weak, her spirit drained. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her knees, trying to steady her breath. The faint glow that had poured from her during the fight had dimmed, but traces lingered in her veins, a hum that wouldn’t vanish.Lorien crouched a few feet away, sharpening his blade with steady strokes. His eyes flicked toward her now and then, but he said nothing, giving her the space to breathe.Children lingered nearby, peeking shyly from behind their mothers’ skirts. A little

The moon hung low, casting silver beams across the forest. The wind carried scents of pine, damp earth, and faintly… something more elusive. Something Kaelen couldn’t quite name but that twisted his insides every time it brushed his senses.He had taken to patrolling with his warriors more often, restless in a way that no council meeting or sparring session could soothe. Tonight was no different. His wolf paced under his skin, agitated, straining forward as if searching for something—or someone.Magnus growled low, his voice a snarl in Kaelen’s head. She is close. I can feel her.Kaelen gritted his teeth. “You keep saying that,” he muttered under his breath, careful not to let his men hear. “Yet every time, it slips away.”The warriors fanned out behind him, alert but unaware of the turmoil raging inside their Alpha King.Elsewhere in the forest, Aria crouched low beneath a tangle of roots. Her breath came quick, her chest tight. Her wolf’s voice urged her to stay still, to mask herse

The morning sun filtered weakly through the infirmary’s shutters, casting golden slants across the room. Warriors stirred on their cots, groaning but no longer on the verge of death. The air was lighter than the night before, though disbelief clung to every corner.One of the young soldiers sat up, his hand pressed to the place where his ribs had been broken clean through. His eyes darted around in confusion. “I… I shouldn’t be alive.”Another warrior, older, lifted his shirt to reveal smooth skin where wolfbane’s black rot had been eating him alive hours earlier. His voice trembled. “She touched me. And the pain—gone, just gone.”The younger one nodded fervently. “Her hands glowed. I saw it. Like the moon itself poured through her.”The men exchanged glances, their eyes wide, their breaths uneven. Then the whisper began, cautious but reverent:“The Blessed Wolf.”By midday, nearly every patient in the infirmary had joined in the hushed talk. Some were still too weak to rise, but they