Frostfang Castle had never felt so suffocating. The keep had grown restless after the sabotage at the watchtower — soldiers stood tighter on the ramparts, their polished armor catching moonlight like sharp-edged mirrors. Inside, the halls seemed haunted by the hush of fear, servants scurrying with lowered eyes as if the walls themselves might accuse them of treachery.
In his private chambers, Aldric leaned against a high-arched window, letting the biting night air lash his face. The wind carried a thousand scents — the dying fires of the city, pine needles crushed beneath guard boots, horse sweat, human terror. It made Luceris, the wolf inside him, prowl at the edges of his mind with restless, fanged energy.
They are afraid of you, Luceris growled. Let them fear.
They should, Aldric agreed grimly, his golden eyes narrowed as he scanned the city he'd reclaimed. Frostfang might have bowed to him, but he could feel rebellion simmering like a kettle about to boil.
He clenched the cold stone of the window ledge until his knuckles cracked.
His thoughts tangled with memories of his mother's lullabies, prophecies sung over his cradle. The Lone Lycan King, born to be feared yet chained by love.
A prophecy he had half-wished would never come true — until every word began bleeding into his waking life.
---
The door opened quietly. A hint of familiar lilac and leather drifted in before Rowena stepped through. Her silver hair was tightly braided for battle, half-burnished by torchlight, half-shadowed, like the memory of a goddess in wolf's shape.
He felt a calm wash through him at her presence, though he would never admit it aloud.
"You're supposed to be sleeping," he said roughly.
Rowena gave him a flat look. "You're the one pacing the castle like a wolf who's lost his mate."
The words stung. Somewhere deep inside, he would always grieve the woman who had betrayed him, a scar never fully healed. But Rowena's loyalty, fierce as a winter gale, had become a balm against that wound.
"I cannot sleep while enemies gather," he confessed, lowering his voice.
She moved closer until the chill of the night wind gave way to her subtle warmth. "Then let us gather our friends before they gather theirs."
Aldric met her gaze, measuring the steady resolve there. Sometimes he forgot she was more than a warrior — she was a future queen, the wolf who refused to be broken.
---
They descended through the castle together, their footfalls echoing across marble steps that still bore ancient scars — chips and gouges from battles fought long before Aldric was born. Past the silent courtyards and guarded gates, they came at last to the crypts.
A cold, musky draft curled up from below, laced with the scent of old iron and holy wax. The crypt lanterns guttered as they stepped into that ancient chamber, as though even flame feared what had been brought here.
Captain Rehn was already waiting, armor gleaming faintly in the lantern light. "My king," he said, bowing, though his eyes flickered warily to their prisoner.
Aldric followed his line of sight.
There she was — the witch in silver chains. Lyssara. Her raven-black hair spilled over her shoulders in tangled waves, and a thin rune of nightshade ink curled around her throat, marking her as an oracle of the Crescent Moon Temple.
She looked both unbreakable and heartbreakingly exhausted, like someone carved from prophecy itself.
"You will tell me everything," Aldric said, voice iron.
Lyssara's lips curved in a sly, dangerous smile. "I will tell you what I know. That is all any oracle can promise."
He stepped closer, the night air whispering through the cracks of the crypt, carrying the distant howl of wolves beyond the walls.
"Speak," Aldric commanded.
Lyssara lifted her head, gold-flecked eyes gleaming with unnatural light. Her voice carried like the tolling of a funeral bell:
> "The red moon shall rise before the final snow,
and the Lone Wolf shall lose his name.
A chain unseen shall bind his heart,
until love and hate become as one.
The Hunter shall be hunted,
and the betrayer crowned in blood."
The crypt fell so silent it seemed the stones themselves held their breath.
Rowena's hand instinctively went to her sword hilt. "What does it mean?"
Lyssara shook her head slowly, rattling her chains. "Prophecy is water in a cracked bowl. You cannot hold it forever."
Aldric's face was carved from ice, unreadable. "Who is the betrayer crowned in blood?"
The oracle lowered her eyes. "I do not see their face. Only their shadow."
Aldric stepped forward, so close he could see the thin pulse beating at Lyssara's temple. "Then you will stay here, fed and guarded, until you see more."
A faint laugh escaped her, low and bitter. "There is no prison worse than knowing the future, my king. But do as you will."
---
Outside the crypts, the air felt fresher, though no less heavy. Aldric strode through the echoing corridors, Rowena struggling to match his pace.
"You think she's lying?" Rowena asked.
Aldric shook his head. "No. She is terrified. That makes her useful — for now."
They turned down a torch-lit hall where night guards saluted stiffly. A servant scurried past with a basket of bloodied bandages — the wounded still trickled in from the tower battle.
Aldric's rage churned at the sight. The people he was sworn to protect bled and died while conspirators hid in the shadows.
He would root them out. One by one.
---
Later that night, sleep eluded him again.
In the quiet, he lay on a stone bench beside his hearth, unable to return to the bed that felt too grand, too cold.
He stared into the banked coals, letting their dull red light dance across the ceiling like ghostly wolves.
Memories of his mother singing him to sleep clawed through his heart, a bittersweet poison.
Heir of the Wolves, Alpha of the World, she had whispered.
He had wanted nothing more than to be free of the prophecy, free to love without chains. But the gods seemed to have other plans.
Luceris stirred, a restless echo of his soul.
You cannot outrun what you are, the wolf spirit warned.
I will not become my father, Aldric vowed.
No, Luceris answered, but you will become the legend.
---
At dawn, he forced himself to rise.
Frost clung to the parapets, shimmering like a coat of diamonds. Soldiers drilled in the yard below, their blades flashing in the weak sunrise, shouts punctuating the air with raw determination.
Aldric drew in a breath of iron-cold air, centering himself.
Rowena approached, new armor shining, and handed him a parchment. "The first kingdom has sent another emissary."
Aldric's mouth twisted. "They grow bolder."
"They think your crown is still loose on your head," she agreed.
He crushed the letter without even reading it. "Then we shall remind them."
Rowena's eyes lit with the same predatory spark. "Together."
He nodded, the smallest of smiles crossing his lips. "Always."
---
By noon, the council chamber was thick with tension.
Advisors, generals, clan elders — all crowded the long table, maps and ledgers spread like a war altar.
Aldric stood at the head, feeling their eyes crawl over him, measuring, doubting.
One of the elders, a narrow-eyed man in wolf-bone beads, spoke first. "My king, the Oracle's words are dangerous. She could destroy the unity we have built."
Aldric's voice was as sharp as drawn steel. "Unity built on fear is no unity at all. I will find the truth."
The elder opened his mouth to protest, but Aldric slammed a hand down on the table, rattling every cup and inkpot. "I have had enough of half-truths and poison whispers. From now on, I will hear every voice — even the ones you wish to silence."
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
Rowena stood a step behind him, unshaken, eyes sweeping the room with quiet defiance.
Another advisor leaned forward, voice oily. "Forgive me, Your Majesty, but if the Oracle is right, and you are to lose your name—"
Aldric cut him off with a glare that would have frozen flame. "If I lose my name, it will be on my terms."
---
The afternoon bled away into a storm of messages, strategy meetings, and scout reports. By nightfall, Aldric's shoulders ached, but his mind burned hotter than ever.
Rowena found him again on the balcony, the wind now full of ice and night sounds — distant wolves howling from the peaks.
She approached carefully, as if one wrong word might shatter him.
He turned before she spoke. "You think I'm losing myself," he rasped.
She did not deny it. "You are changing. And so am I. We all are."
A bitter chuckle escaped him. "That is what power does."
She reached out, taking his hand, grounding him in the present. "Then let us change together. You and me, Aldric. Whatever happens next, I stand with you."
Her fierce loyalty cracked through his armor more deeply than any sword.
For a moment, the warrior vanished, leaving only the man.
He pulled her into a rough embrace, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of steel and lilac and courage.
They stood there, two wolves in human skins, defying the gods themselves to tear them apart.
---
And far away, hidden beyond the veil of night,
a shadowed figure in blood-red robes watched from a lonely hill,
smiling as the moon rose over Frostfang, as if everything was happening exactly as planned…