The first rays of dawn had barely touched the sky when Tolu stood at the edge of the Palam Pack's settlement, facing Idris. The weight of the previous night's revelations pressed heavily on him. He was no longer just an ordinary Seeker, no longer simply an heir to a fallen pack.
He was something more—something ancient. A Lost King.
Tolu clenched his fists. The very idea felt unreal, but deep inside, something stirred. It wasn't just the excitement of learning about his potential. It was recognition. As if a dormant part of him had been waiting for this truth all along.
Ajala and the elders of the Palam Pack stood behind him, their expressions unreadable. Some were wary, others intrigued, but none dismissed Idris's words outright. If what he said was true, then Tolu's mere existence could change everything.
The silence was broken by Idris's calm voice.
"You feel it, don't you?" he asked, stepping closer. "The power within you isn't just about strength or dominance. It's about authority. The kind that cannot be challenged, not even by the strongest of alphas."
Tolu met his gaze. "Then show me how to use it."
A slow smile spread across Idris's lips. "Good. Then let's begin."
---
A King's Power
The training was unlike anything Tolu had ever experienced. Idris didn't teach him how to fight—he already knew how to do that. Instead, he forced Tolu to understand his power.
They started with his roar.
"The roar of a True King isn't just sound," Idris explained as they stood in an open clearing, away from the settlement. "It is command made manifest. A king's roar can bend lesser wolves to their will. And yours?" He smirked. "Yours destroyed Shades—creatures bound by magic. That means your roar carries more than just authority. It carries judgment."
Tolu swallowed. He remembered the way his roar had shattered the Shades, dispersing their very essence as if they had no right to exist in his presence.
"Try again," Idris instructed. "But this time, don't just shout. Command."
Tolu took a deep breath and focused. He could feel it inside him—something vast and ancient, waiting to be called forth. He opened his mouth and let the power rise.
A deep, rumbling growl built in his chest before exploding outward.
The air trembled. The ground vibrated beneath his feet.
Ajala and the others, who had been observing from a distance, widened their eyes as the force of Tolu's roar pushed them back. Birds scattered from the trees. The very wind seemed to obey his voice.
Idris grinned. "Good. Very good."
But Tolu wasn't satisfied. He could feel that this was just the beginning.
---
The Weight of a Crown
As days passed, Tolu's training intensified.
Idris pushed him to control his presence, to learn the difference between raw power and true dominance. It wasn't about who was the strongest—it was about who ruled the battlefield by sheer will.
One evening, Idris led him into the forest. They stopped in a small clearing where a lone rogue werewolf prowled, its eyes filled with madness.
"This wolf is beyond reason," Idris said. "A failure of control. But you… you will not fight him."
Tolu frowned. "Then what?"
Idris's silver eyes gleamed. "You will command him."
Tolu hesitated. The rogue wolf was snarling, its claws digging into the ground, ready to attack. The old Tolu would have fought it instantly.
But he was no longer the old Tolu.
Stepping forward, he locked eyes with the rogue and let his presence unfurl.
The air shifted. The energy in the clearing grew dense, heavy.
The rogue wolf froze mid-step, its ears flattening. Its snarl turned into a whimper.
Tolu didn't need to fight.
His mere presence made the rogue submit.
Ajala and the other warriors, who had followed to watch, exchanged glances. This was something none of them had ever seen before.
Even Alphas had to fight for dominance.
But Tolu? He only had to exist.
Idris chuckled. "Now you understand."
Tolu released the wolf, and it fled into the woods, tail tucked between its legs.
He exhaled slowly. He finally understood what Idris had meant.
This was why Olumide and the warlock feared him.
Because he wasn't just another challenger.
He was a threat to their entire rule.
---
The Gathering Storm
That night, as Tolu rested after his training, Ajala approached him.
"You realize what this means, don't you?" the older alpha asked.
Tolu nodded. "It means they'll come for me."
Ajala's golden eyes held a hint of something rare—concern. "Not just you. Us. The Palam Pack has taken you in. That makes us a target."
Tolu looked down at his hands. The truth was undeniable now. His mere existence was enough to start a war.
And Olumide wouldn't wait long.
Ajala sighed. "We need to prepare. The warlock was only the beginning. Soon, they'll send more. Stronger ones."
Tolu's mind flashed back to the warlock's words.
"You have power… but you don't even know what you are yet."
He wasn't sure if he had the strength to fight what was coming. But he knew one thing.
He wouldn't run.
He wouldn't hide.
If Olumide and the warlock wanted a war…
He would give them one.
---
The First Attack
The first sign of trouble came three nights later.
Tolu was standing outside his tent when he heard it—a distant howl, but not from the Palam Pack.
Then, the scent hit him.
Smoke.
Burning flesh.
His heart slammed against his ribs as warriors ran from their tents, weapons drawn.
A scout sprinted into the camp, panting. "They're here!"
Ajala's eyes darkened. "Who?"
The scout's face was pale. "Not Olumide's pack. Hunters."
A cold chill swept through Tolu's body.
Werewolf hunters.
Armed with silver. Wolfsbane. Magic.
They weren't here for a battle.
They were here for a slaughter.
Ajala turned to Tolu. "Stay behind. This isn't your fight."
Tolu's fists clenched. No.
This wasn't just an attack. It was a message.
They had come for him.
And he was done running.
Stepping forward, he let his presence rise like a tide. The air shimmered around him, thick with power.
The warriors closest to him shivered as the weight of his aura settled over the camp.
He turned to Ajala, his voice calm, steady.
"This is my fight."
Then, without waiting for permission, he shifted.
His wolf form was larger than before, the moonlight catching on his thick, obsidian fur. His golden eyes burned like fire as he howled—
A sound that shook the trees, the earth, the very air itself.
Somewhere in the darkness, the hunters hesitated.
Because in that moment, they knew.
They weren't hunting an ordinary werewolf.
They had awakened a King.
And he was coming for them.