The Shadow promise - Unbreakable Alpha

The sun rose over the bustling city of Eldorwyn, casting a golden glow on its sturdy walls and cobblestone streets. From the high tower of the Cathedral of the Moon, bells rang in harmony, signaling the start of another market day. Merchants with their carts filled the main square, their colorful awnings flapping gently in the morning breeze. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with that of blooming flowers, a testament to Eldorwyn's prosperity. For Lady Selene Darrow, however, the day began not with the market’s cheerful commotion but with the rustling of parchment in her hands. Seated by the window in the east wing of her family’s grand manor, she held the latest letter from her betrothed, Prince Amarylis. Selene’s gray eyes skimmed the elegant script, her lips curling into a soft smile as she read the familiar handwriting. These letters were her sanctuary, a lifeline to a man she had never met but who, through his words, had become more real to her than anyone in her court. "I dream of the day we meet, Selene," the letter read. "When the stars align and the moon bears witness to our union, I will prove to you that no distance nor silence can diminish what we have built. Your faith in me is a light in my darkest hours." Selene sighed, her fingers lightly brushing over the ink as though she could feel his presence through the parchment. Amarylis was a mystery, a prince cloaked in rumors and shadows. Known as the "Broken Wolf," many whispered of his tragic accident and the supposed loss of his inner wolf. Yet, to Selene, he was a figure of resilience and wit, a man whose strength was evident not in his physical prowess but in his words and mind. She didn't care at all about his condition. The bare fact that he live through all of this horrifying things, showed her how much of wortby man he was. A gentle knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Turning, she saw her maid, Anwen, a woman with warm brown eyes and an ever-present air of motherly concern. “My lady,” Anwen said softly, bowing her head, “your father requests your presence in the solar.” Althought it wasn't something weird that her father summoned her, Selene had a feeling that something was off. The lady nodded, tucking the letter into the folds of her gown. She followed Anwen down the wide corridors of the manor, her heels clicking against the polished stone floors. Tapestries depicting the history of her family adorned the walls, each one a reminder of the Darrow lineage's loyalty to the royal house. When Selene entered the solar, she found her father, Lord Alaric Darrow, standing by the hearth. His silver hair caught the firelight, and his weathered face was etched with concern. He turned to her as she entered, his stern expression softening. “Selene,” he began carefully, his voice low and measured, “there are troubling reports from the northern borders. Our scouts have seen movements—King Mordain’s forces may be on the march.” Selene’s heart sank. “Mordain?” she echoed, her voice trembling slightly. That bastard was the dkmain of the word "Bad Wolf". He was agressive, ruthless man who was hungry for power. “But why? Our lands are far from his typical reach.” Lord Alaric shook his head. “We cannot know his true intentions, but we must prepare. I’ve already sent word to Prince Amarylis, though it may be some time before his forces can reach us.” Selene’s hand instinctively went to the letter in her gown. “Do you believe he will attack Eldorwyn directly?” Alaric hesitated, his gaze flickering to the window. “I pray he does not, but we must be ready. You, my dear, must stay close to the manor. If anything happens, Anwen will take you to the cellars.” The weight of his words pressed heavily on her. She nodded, forcing a brave smile. “I understand, Father. I will not be a burden.” That evening, the city of Eldorwyn braced itself. The bustling market square grew quiet as news of the approaching threat spread. Soldiers patrolled the walls, their armor gleaming in the torchlight. Families gathered in their homes, whispering prayers to the gods for protection. Selene sat in her chamber, unable to sleep. She stared at the horizon from her window, the stars above twinkling serenely, oblivious to the tension below. Her thoughts drifted to Amarylis. What would he do if he were here? Would he lead the charge to defend Eldorwyn, or would he strategize from the shadows as his reputation suggest ed? Knowing his condition, the second option was most likely real. And what in the Moon Goddess was this Mad King doing so nesr to their Land? Has he already gone really Mad to go for prince bethored? Despite his disability Amarylis was still royal prince for heavens sake! The answer for her wondering came with the blast of a horn. Selene shot to her feet, her pulse racing. From her vantage point, she saw black banners adorned with the sigil of King Mordain appearing on the horizon. The enemy army moved like a dark tide, their torches flickering ominously in the night. The manor erupted into chaos. Guards scrambled to their posts, servants rushed to bar doors and windows, and Lord Alaric shouted orders. Selene’s heart pounded as she clutched the sides of her gown. "Selene!" Her father’s voice echoed through the corridors. "To the cellars, now!" But Selene hesitated. From her window, she saw the first wave of soldiers breach the city gates. The clang of steel on steel filled the air, mingling with the screams of terrified villagers. She turned her gaze to the horizon, where the enemy banners loomed closer. “Why now?” she whispered to herself. “Why would Mordain strike here?” Her question was answered all too quickly when the doors to the manor were shattered. Selene’s breath hitched as enemy soldiers flooded inside, their faces obscured by dark helmets. She heard Anwen’s screams in the distance and her father’s voice roaring in defiance. The she remembered what she promised to her father - to run to safety. Before she could act, rough hands grabbed her arms. Selene struggled, kicking and screaming, but her captors were relentless. They dragged her through the burning remnants of her home, past the bodies of fallen guards and servants. Her last sight of her father was of him standing at the gates, his sword clashing against an enemy blade. Then, the flames consumed her view. Selene was forced onto a waiting horse, her wrists bound with coarse rope. The ride to the enemy encampment was a blur of pain and terror. The cold night air bit at her skin, but her fury burned hotter than any fire. When they finally reached the camp, Selene was thrown to the ground before a figure draped in dark armor. King Mordain. His cold eyes appraised her, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “So,” he said, his voice a low growl, “this is the prized bride of the Broken Wolf. How ironic that the daughter of a loyal dog now kneels before me.” Selene glared up at him, defiance blazing in her gray eyes. “You’ll regret this,” she spat. “Prince Amarylis will come for me. And when he does, you’ll wish you had never set foot in Eldorwyn.” Mordain’s laughter echoed through the camp. “Let him come,” he sneered. “I’ll enjoy watching him crawl to save you.” They both knew that there was no possibikity for this scenario. Amarylis will not come for her aid. Selene’s heart raced, but she refused to show fear. As Mordain barked orders to his men, she made a silent vow: she would survive this. No matter what they planned, she would not break. The night grew colder, the only warmth coming from the fires consuming Eldorwyn in the distance. Selene’s thoughts turned to Amarylis. Would he know what had happened? Would he come for her? "Oh Selene" she ithought to herself "You know it is impossible for him to come"