STOLEN BY THE RUTHLESS ALPHA
The recognition hit so hard and so deep, I almost cried out.
It was my child.
Grown.
Not just grown, but radiant.
He stood tall, regal, and calm, wrapped in white fire that shimmered like an aura. His eyes were ancient and new all at once, full of galaxies I didn't have names for. On his head rested a crown, woven in silver branches and moonstone.
Behind him stood thousands.
Wolves. Witches. Humans. And beings I couldn't name, creatures of old magic, of prophecy, of something beyond even our most sacred stories.
Bab Populer