The Cursed Alpha
They spoke of his strength, how he cut through a pack of rogues single-handedly, how even death seemed to follow wherever he went.
Elysia listened but said nothing.
She didn’t know what he looked like. Only the name. Alaric Varyn. The cursed Alpha. The man whose soldiers had burned her home to ash. The man whose family’s war had ended hers.
They said he was cursed, that his touch brought death. That no woman lived to tell of him. But Elysia didn’t care about curses. Curses were her mother’s craft, not hers. What she cared about was vengeance.