The night reeked of blood.
The snow, once pristine, lay ruined beneath bodies—torn flesh, shattered bones, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. The storm howled through the trees, but its icy touch was nothing compared to the cold settling inside him.
His father's body lay at his feet. His twin brother—his own blood—was dead by his hands.
His mother's screams still echoed in his skull. He had fought to save her, fought to protect his pack. But his power… it had been too much. One misstep. One moment of blinding rage.
And now, they were gone.
A gust of wind carried the scent of something ancient, something beyond the mortal realm. Shadows stirred, and from them emerged beings of night and judgment—the Elders, the keepers of fate.
They surrounded him, their eyes gleaming like molten silver. The leader, a towering figure cloaked in darkness, spoke first.
"You have spilled the blood of your own kin."
His wolf whimpered, cowering under the weight of their power.
"For this crime, you shall suffer."
Pain, raw and unrelenting, seared through his veins. His body twisted, bones snapping, flesh burning under an unseen force. He fell to his knees, fangs bared in agony.
"You will walk this earth forever, never to know the bond of a mate. Love will elude you. Your heart will beat, but it will never belong. You are cursed."
He roared, a sound filled with grief and fury, but the night swallowed it whole.
Years turned to decades. Decades to centuries. The world changed, but the hollowness inside him remained. He ruled, he conquered, he destroyed. And yet, nothing filled the void.
Until her.
A girl with sorrow in her eyes and scars deeper than flesh.
Something in her called to him—something forbidden. Something impossible.
His wolf stirred, restless for the first time in five hundred years.
And with it came the whisper of something he had long since abandoned.
Hope.