Adrian ran fast, his feet pounding against the ground as images of his memories played before his eyes like an endless reel. Anger bubbled up inside him like a volcano on the verge of eruption. How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten that she was once his mate? How could he have allowed her blood to be spilled on the ground without retribution?
If he had been in the pack that day, she would have been by his side, living with him. They might have had children... But she was gone, and he hadn't been there to protect her. That thought alone was enough to fuel his rage.
Without thinking, he shifted into his wolf form, his paws moving faster and faster, the wind caressing his fur. He wanted to calm down, but the anger still burned within him. Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a silhouette darting ahead, running swiftly through the trees. His instincts kicked in—prey.
Adrian sprinted after it. As he drew closer, he realized it was a massive wild boar. Its sheer size meant catching it wouldn't be easy, but it would be fun... an interesting challenge to distract him from his thoughts.
Sensing danger, the boar bolted through the trees, but Adrian didn't give it a chance. Realizing escape was impossible, the boar quickly turned to face its pursuer. It was not easy prey; it was ready to fight until its last breath.
The boar stood a few meters away, staring at Adrian with fierce eyes, anticipating his attack. Adrian didn't move. He watched it silently, studying its movements, waiting for the right opportunity.
Then, the boar lunged, head lowered, sharp tusks gleaming. Adrian dodged at the last moment and raked his claws across the boar's hind leg, tearing through thick flesh.
The beast lost its balance and crashed to the ground, screaming in pain, but quickly scrambled up, blood trickling down its side, fury burning in its eyes.
Adrian smiled inwardly. Now the real challenge had begun.
The boar took off again, as if trying to flee, but Adrian wasn't fooled. He pounced once more, trying to wear it down. But this time, the boar surprised him with an unexpected counterattack. He barely managed to dodge, but a sharp pain flared above his eye—a deep wound where the beast's tusk had struck. Blood trickled down his face.
Adrian snarled, but instead of recklessly charging, he stepped back, more cautious now. He had learned his lesson—this was no ordinary prey.
In the next moment, he lunged with incredible speed, not giving the boar another chance to strike. His fangs sank deep into its throat, tearing it apart.
The boar collapsed, motionless, while Adrian sat beside it, panting as blood dripped from his wound. His rage began to subside—not entirely, but enough to allow him to think.
His father had been right… He was worried about him, trying to protect him. But Adrian couldn't move past her death. Not yet.
He rested his head on his front paw and closed his eyes, seeking a moment's respite. Tomorrow, when he woke, he would have to make a decision.
---
In the Western Kingdom
Deep in the dark depths of the palace, the Alpha sat on his throne, his piercing gaze sweeping over the assembled council. The crimson jewel atop his chair gleamed in the flickering lamplight, while his watchful, bloodstained eyes surveyed the room.
For years, a single thought had echoed in his mind: Everything is under my control. His dominion had expanded, his grip tightening like an unbreakable chain. The wars never ceased, yet his power never wavered.
With a flick of his hand, silence fell. His voice, calm yet sharp, sliced through the air:
"I want a report on the border. What happened to the wolves sent on the last mission?"
Khoury, the chief warrior, stepped forward and bowed slightly. His tone was steady, but a shadow of unease lurked in his words.
"We haven't heard from them in four days, Alpha."
A muscle twitched in the Alpha's jaw, though his expression remained unreadable. His cold, decisive gaze locked onto Khoury as he commanded, "Send a scouting party. Immediately. I want to know what happened to them."
Eamon, the Royal Beta, hesitated before speaking, his voice cautious. "It may not be an ordinary ambush. The mages have been silent for far too long... Silence can be deceiving."
The Alpha didn't respond immediately. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the map spread before him, its dark lines marking the extent of his territory.
"If they think we are weak, they will regret it. Things may have calmed between us, but that doesn't mean it's over."
Before he could say another word, the heavy doors swung open. A guard rushed in, breathless, his face pale with urgency.
"Alpha! We've found the bodies of some of the kingdom's soldiers!"
The Alpha rose slowly, his imposing form casting long shadows across the stone walls. The flickering flames made him seem otherworldly.
"Where?" His voice was low, dangerous.
"Near the border…" The guard swallowed hard before continuing. "No traces of blood. No visible wounds. They are… dead, but the cause is unknown."
A suffocating silence fell over the room. The Alpha stared at the soldier, his eyes narrowing with deadly intensity. Then, in a voice as sharp as a blade, he commanded:
"Take me there."
Without hesitation, he moved. His steps were quick, decisive. Behind him, Khoury, Eamon, and an elite group of warriors followed. They strode through the dim corridors, their shadows stretching long in the flickering torchlight before they emerged into the courtyard. Their horses stood ready.
The Alpha mounted his steed and urged it forward, his warriors falling into formation behind him. The wind howled as they disappeared into the night. Only the pale glow of the moon and the eerie gleam of their eyes pierced the darkness.
When they arrived, a chilling sight awaited them.
Seven bodies lay motionless, their faces frozen in silent horror, eyes wide as if staring into the abyss. No blood. No wounds. No signs of struggle. Just empty shells—drained of something far more vital than life.
Khoury knelt beside one of the dead, pressing a hand to the cold flesh. His jaw tightened. "This is strange... No injuries. No poison. This is something else."
Eamon studied the corpses, concern creeping into his voice. "They're not just dead... Their souls have been stolen."
A shiver ran down the Alpha's spine. He inhaled deeply, then caught it. Faint. Almost imperceptible. And yet unmistakable.
Magic.
His gaze snapped to Eamon and Khoury, his voice like steel. "Mobilize all forces. We could be on the brink of war."
But as silence settled around them, something deeper stirred. A whisper slithered through the darkness, wrapping around his thoughts like a ghost from a past he had fought to bury.
This wasn't just a war.
The past was clawing its way back.
"This isn't just an attack… It's a warning." The words slipped from his lips before he even realized it.
Eamon frowned. "A warning? From whom?"
The Alpha didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crouched beside one of the fallen warriors, fingers grazing the cold skin. A chill ran through him—not from fear, but from something far worse.
"No wounds. No weapons. Just... death."
Slowly, he lifted his gaze. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—an emotion neither Eamon nor Khoury had ever seen before.
Khoury hesitated. "Could the Wizarding Kingdom be behind this?"
But the Alpha shook his head, his voice dark, as if dredging up a secret long buried.
"No… Not them."
He exhaled slowly, then uttered his next words like a death sentence.
"It's someone else. Someone who should have been dead long ago."