THE LYCAN KING'S COLD AWAKENING

Winter fell in Equinox like little mermaid tears… The city was cold as ice, fear lurking in the dark while debauchery shined bright like moonlight. Snow drifted from the heavens as if the moon wept for the forgotten. The wind whispered through the pinewoods, cold enough to slice through bone, carrying with it the scent of iron, frost, and something lonelier than death. The world was quiet but in that silence, pain had a voice. And its name was Faye. The Memerios Pack slept beneath the frozen glow of the full moon but Faye was awake, crouched beside the kennels behind the packhouse, scrubbing blood from the wooden floorboards. Her fingers were raw and cracked, the skin beneath her nails tinged red. The cold didn’t bother her anymore, nothing did, not since her wolf had failed to awaken. A wolfless omega was a tragedy. A wolfless omega with silver eyes was a bad omen. “Faye!” Leyla’s voice cut through the night, sharp and mocking. The Luna stood on the porch, her robe a river of white fur, her lips red as cruelty itself. “You missed a spot or perhaps you want the Alpha to come inspect your half work?” Faye lowered her head quickly. “No, Luna. I’ll finish it right away.” “Do that,” Leyla sneared. “The Alpha’s in a fine mood tonight. Don’t tempt his temper with those cursed eyes of yours.” She turned and disappeared back inside, leaving the scent of an expensive perfume behind; roses, vanilla and dominance. Faye exhaled shakily and scrubbed harder, her breath forming little clouds in the air. She used to wonder what she’d done wrong to deserve this life. But when everyone around you believes you’re cursed, it’s easier to believe it too. She could still remember the night her parents died. Flames devoured their cottage. She was Six. Ethan, now Alpha of Memerios had told everyone that her father, the Pack’s Beta had betrayed the pack and that her mother had tried to summon the Moon Goddess to curse him. When the smoke cleared, only Faye survived. Her eyes had turned silver that night and the whispers began. The cursed child of the moon. The girl whose gaze brings ruin. Faye never argued. Words never saved anyone here. So she learned to survive in silence. By dawn, her hands were numb, her back screaming with pain. When she finally stood, she caught sight of her reflection in the frost-covered window. Pale skin. Hollow cheeks. And those eyes, liquid mercury under the fading moonlight. She hated them. They weren’t beautiful; they were a reminder of everything she’d lost. The pack began to stir soon after. Faye stayed out of their way, slipping into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The scent of bread and herbs filled the air but so did the usual murmurs. “Did you hear?” one of the younger omegas whispered. “The Alpha says her eyes glow brighter every full moon.” “Maybe it’s the curse awakening,” another replied, voice trembling. “The elders think she’ll bring death again.” They didn’t notice Faye standing just behind them until she dropped a pan. The clang silenced the room. When they saw her eyes, they flinched, every single one. Faye knelt to pick up the pan, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to…” “Don’t touch it!” one of them hissed, backing away. “You’ll spread it.” Faye froze, the sting behind her eyes burning hotter than the fire beneath the stove. She left the pan where it fell and turned away, pressing her trembling hands against her apron. By afternoon, Ethan summoned her. The Alpha’s office was dim, lit only by the fire in the hearth. His eyes were sharp and golden, his smile colder than snow. “Faye,” he said, swirling wine in a glass, “do you know why the pack keeps you alive?” Her heart thudded. “Because…Because, I serve the pack.” Ethan chuckled softly. “No. It’s because I allowed it. Your father betrayed me and yet I let his daughter live. That’s mercy, isn’t it?” Faye kept her gaze on the floor. “Yes, Alpha and I’m most grateful.” He rose and came around the desk, tilting her chin up with a single finger. She tried not to meet his gaze but he forced her eyes to his. “Those eyes,” he murmured. “Just like your mother’s before she cursed this pack. Do you ever wonder why the goddess gave you silver eyes instead of gold?” Faye swallowed hard. “No, Alpha.” “Because she wanted everyone to remember,” he whispered. “Every time someone looks at you, they remember your parents’ sin. That’s your purpose here, to remind them of what happens to traitors.” He released her, almost gently, then turned back toward the fire. “You may go.” Faye fled before he changed his mind. Outside, the cold bit at her skin but she welcomed it with great peace. It numbed everything. She wandered to the edge of the woods, where the river curved like a serpent through the snow. The sound of running water always soothed her, even if it was the only sound that made. Sometimes she imagined she could hear her mother’s voice in it. Other times… she heard someone else. That night, when the pack slept and the moon climbed high, she lay awake in her small bed behind the kitchen. The dreams had returned, the ones where she stood in a field of ash and snow, a man’s shadow watching her from the dark. He never spoke clearly. Only fragments. Run… Save yourself… Only you can save him. Faye always woke before she could see his face. But tonight, the dream was different. The snow beneath her feet glowed silver. The air shimmered with whispers, thousands of them, calling her name like a prayer. And then those eyes. One red and the other silver. Piercing, alive, filled with something ancient and broken. They looked at her the way no one ever had, not with fear, not with pity but with recognition. “Run,” the voice said again, deep and dark as thunder. Faye gasped awake, heart pounding so loud it filled the room. Her sheets clung to her skin, damp with sweat. She stared at the moon through the small window, her breath fogging the glass. Outside, the forest was still. But somewhere beyond it somewhere in the unseen, she felt those eyes watching. She rose slowly, bare feet meeting the cold stone floor, and crossed to the door. The air outside was colder than death. Her breath turned to mist as she stepped into the yard. Snowflakes drifted down lazily, landing on her lashes. She walked until she reached the same puddle near the kennels, the one that always caught the moon’s reflection. She looked down and froze. Her reflection blinked. Not once. Not twice. But slow. Deliberate. And the voice came again, so faint it could have been the wind. “Run, little wolf.” Faye stumbled back, gasping, staring at the rippling puddle. The snow fell harder, the world suddenly quieter as if the moon itself was holding its breath. She looked up at the forest in the distance, shadows stretching long and dark. And though she didn’t understand why her heart whispered the same word back. Run.