A hush had fallen over the Shadowvale banquet hall, as if the night itself held its breath. The torches crackled on the towering stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper secrets from a bygone age. Aldric stood at the head of the great table, his white-gold hair shimmering under the flame's restless light, the wolf within him restless. The scents of roasted venison, honeyed fruits, and dark red mead blended in the air, but he tasted only unease.
His gaze swept the gathering of lords, ladies, and fierce warrior-alphas who had gathered to pay respects to the One True Alpha. He saw the tension in their shoulders, the hunger for power in their eyes. Even after besting so many, Aldric knew there were still daggers aimed at his back. Envy was a poison that never died.
Rowena, seated beside him, looked radiant in her silver-blue gown, hair tumbling like a river of moonlight. She leaned closer, voice low.
"You feel it, don't you?" she murmured, a glint of worry in her sea-glass eyes.
Aldric nodded slightly, the soft leather of his gloves creaking as he clenched his fist. "Someone is planning something. Too many eyes, too many secrets."
As the feast reached its height, with songs and laughter echoing against the vaulted ceiling, a servant approached with a goblet of wine, bowing with mechanical politeness. Aldric's wolf senses flared — the man's scent was wrong, tinged with sharp fear and a bitter trace of poison. Before he could speak, Rowena's hand shot out, seizing the servant by the wrist.
The goblet fell to the stone with a shattering ring. Silence sliced through the hall like a sword.
"Poison," Rowena declared, her voice clear as crystal.
Gasps rose from the gathered wolves. The would-be assassin crumbled to his knees, tears flooding down his cheeks, terror overwhelming him. Aldric stepped down from the dais with slow, measured steps, his pale eyes glowing the color of a storm.
"Who sent you?"
The man broke, sobbing. "Please—please, they forced me—"
But before he could finish, a crossbow bolt zipped through the air. Its steel tip struck the servant in the heart, cutting off his confession. Aldric spun toward the balcony above, catching a fleeting glimpse of a black-cloaked figure vanishing into the night.
The hall was a tempest of confusion, wolves howling, warriors drawing weapons.
"Enough!" Aldric's voice thundered through the stone. "Whoever hides in the shadows, know this — you will not break me. You will not take my kingdom."
Even the flames seemed to bow in that moment. The One True Alpha had spoken.
Hours later, after the shaken guests departed and the corpse had been taken away, Aldric stood at the war map chamber, lantern-light glinting on lines of ink tracing all the wolf territories. Rowena entered, cloak trailing behind her, and placed a hand gently on his arm.
"It was not your fault," she whispered.
He didn't look at her at first. His eyes traced the borders, the lines of alliances and betrayals like a net tightening around him. "Every threat is my fault, Rowena. As Alpha, I carry every death."
She stepped closer, tilting his chin toward her. "Not every death. Not every pain." Her fingers trembled, and he saw something new in her expression — a crack, like a mirror shattered long ago.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
Rowena closed her eyes. "If we are to be honest with one another, you should know. Before you came back to claim your power, I... I was not simply waiting."
His wolf bristled, a defensive instinct rising, but he forced himself to stay calm.
"Speak."
She took a breath that seemed to weigh a thousand years. "After my parents died, I was forced into a rival Alpha's house. He wanted me as his prize, a political tool. I pretended to submit to him, even while I plotted to run. He... he tried to break me."
Aldric's jaw tightened, the wolf within him howling for blood.
"I escaped," she continued, tears catching in her lashes, "but I will never forget the humiliation. I will never forgive it."
Slowly, Aldric pulled her into his arms, burying his nose in her silver hair. "No one will ever lay hands on you again. I swear it."
"And I swear to stand by you," she whispered back, "even if your world burns."
Two days later, the great Frostfang wolves, known for their frozen kingdom beyond the Silver Mountains, sent their invitation. They would recognize Aldric as the One True Alpha, if he came in person to negotiate a mutual defense pact.
Rowena insisted on coming along, and they departed with an escort of shadow-clad knights and warriors. The journey to Frostfang was a masterpiece of winter's cruelty — endless fields of ice, forests sheathed in diamond frost, the howling of unseen spirits in the wind.
As they approached the towering walls of Frostfang's capital, Aldric's breath misted in the air, his senses on high alert. Warriors in silver-plated wolf helms watched from the parapets, their spears gleaming with hoarfrost.
Lord Kjeld, the Frostfang Alpha, descended the steps to greet him. A giant of a man, with braids of white hair and a cloak of polar-bear fur, he radiated raw power.
"Aldric Aldmoonbane," he boomed, "the Lone Lycan King. You honor my house."
Aldric nodded with regal calm. "Your loyalty honors me in return, Lord Kjeld."
Inside the hall, warmed by enchanted blue flames, they began the tense negotiations. Kjeld demanded guarantees that Aldric would support them if the rogue Kingdom of Emberhowl attacked from the south. Aldric, in turn, demanded warriors pledged under his banner, to root out the conspirators behind his parents' murder.
Kjeld drank deeply from his iron goblet, studying Aldric with eyes the color of a glacier.
"I will stand with you," he finally growled, "for I have seen the Moon Goddess's sign. You are the Alpha who will unite us all."
In that moment, something shifted — as if the whole world tilted toward destiny.
That night, Aldric wandered the ramparts alone, unable to sleep. Memories of the poison plot, Rowena's pain, and the ever-looming threat of betrayal tangled through his mind like briar thorns. The wind tugged at his cloak, carrying scents of ice and iron.
Suddenly, a soft presence approached. Rowena joined him, wrapping her cloak tighter against the chill.
"Are you doubting yourself again?" she asked.
He exhaled a white plume of air. "Always. If I fail, they all die."
She touched his cheek. "Then do not fail."
He laughed, a low, rough sound. "That is the sort of thing I would say."
"Because I learned from the best."
They stood there, two wolves beneath the endless stars, their bond woven tighter than any crown could command. Rowena leaned her head against his shoulder, and for a moment, the burden seemed lighter.
"Aldric," she whispered, "if the world should rise against us again... if your past should return to devour you, remember I will stand between you and the darkness."
His heart clenched, raw and fierce. "And I would tear the heavens apart for you."
Far below, unseen in the shadows of Frostfang, a cloaked figure watched the couple. The assassin had returned — the same man who had fired the crossbow in Shadowvale, now paid thrice over by those who once betrayed Aldric's parents. His orders were clear: destroy the Lone Lycan King before he united the wolves, before he became unstoppable.
His poison vials clinked softly against the dagger at his belt, and he slipped deeper into the night, determined to fulfill his deadly mission.