When fate and worlds collide

01 | Worlds Apart

Daegon.

The forest tore past in a blur of shadow and frost as wolves ran swiftly through the brush. Branches shattered beneath the Alpha’s stride, the earth itself seeming to recoil as his pack surged forward behind him—an unstoppable tide of muscle, claws, and lethal intent. The night rang with snarls and the thunder of paws, every wolf locked onto the same singular presence burning ahead of them like a taunt.

Daegon felt her before he saw her.

Power rippled through the trees, dark and electric, the unmistakable signature of the Dark Aura flaring as she broke cover. She vaulted across a ravine with inhuman grace, landing without sound, cloak of shadows snapping around her like living smoke.

‘Fan out,’ Daegon commanded through the link, his voice iron. ‘Cut her off.’ The pack responded instantly. Wolves peeled away, flanking wide, funneling her toward the kill zone he’d already calculated. This was his forest. His hunt. She would not escape again.

She turned—just long enough for him to see her face, the smile curved her lips. Mocking. Deliberate.

Rage detonated in his chest.

Daegon lunged, closing the distance in a heartbeat, claws raking where her throat had been an instant before. She twisted, power exploding outward in a violent pulse that sent two of his wolves skidding back through the underbrush.

‘Coward,’ he snarled, slamming into her shield with bone-jarring force. She laughed, the sound was low, thrilled—pleased. Dark energy lashed out, slamming into Daegon’s chest, and for a fraction of a second the world tilted. He hit the ground hard, fur rippling further as his Lycan form surged forward, fury tearing free of restraint. He rose onto his back to legs with a roar that shook the canopy.

Around them, the forest burned with power—his pack attacking from all sides, the Dark Aura spinning and striking with brutal precision and unnaturally fluidity. Wolves fell back, wounded but alive, her control frighteningly exact, anger dawning on Daegon when he realized she wasn’t slaughtering them. She was playing. Ducking past a strike, Daegon slammed her into a tree, bark exploding outward as his claws pinned her cloak. Green eyes met hers, blazing blood red with murder.

“I will end you,” he promised, voice low and absolute. Her gaze flicked past him—to the edge of the clearing. To something only she could see.

“Not today, mutt,” she sneered, letting out a low cackle.

The ground split a moment later. Darkness erupted beneath her feet, swallowing her body in a violent spiral of power. Daegon reached for her, claws closing on smoke as the forest screamed around them.

Nothing.

The clearing fell silent but for heavy breathing and the crackle of broken branches. She was gone. Daegon stood rigid, chest heaving, claws still extended where she had been. The pack regrouped around him, bloodied, furious, waiting. No one spoke. No one dared. His jaw clenched.

Again.

She had escaped again.

But this time… she had let him get close. She had tested his strength, measured his pack, revealed just enough to make one thing painfully clear. The war was escalating. Daegon slowly curled his claws into his palms, eyes burning as he lifted his head and sent his will through the link.

‘She runs,’ he told them coldly. ‘Which means she fears the outcome.’

The forest seemed to listen. And somewhere beyond it, the Dark Aura would feel his promise like a blade at her spine.

Next time, she wouldn’t escape.

~*~

Pale morning light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the map on the table in gold. But it did nothing to soften the storm in Daegon’s green eyes. The map beneath his fingers might as well have been a battlefield etched in blood. His gaze traced every border between his territory and the neighboring pack, every weak point, every line of defense he had built over years of conquest was memorized, calculated, ready to be exploited.

The Dark Aura had slipped through his patrols again. Every trap, every ambush, a failure. She moved like shadow and fire, leaving a trail of defiance and destruction in her wake. Anger coiled in Daegon’s chest, hot, tight and lethal. He clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, knuckles whitening. She had been at war with him for years, and yet—still—she danced just out of reach, still she slipped through his grasp, taunting him with every shadowed step.

A soft knock at the door barely registered before it opened.

“Alpha?” Treyton’s voice was cautious, tentative, as if one wrong word might ignite the storm radiating from the room. His Beta’s posture was rigid, every inch of him taut with fear. Daegon didn’t look up.

“What?” The word was a growl. A warning. He had told them not to disturb him while he worked on a new plan trap the witch. Rage and strategy had become a single, combustible thing over the last thirty-six hours, watching the sun set and rise while fuelled by nothing but spite and bitter coffee. He was dangerously close to eruption. Treyton’s nostrils flared, betraying the fear he tried to hide. The news could not wait.

“The Dark Aura has been spotted on the borders of the Blue Moon pack,” Treyton informed, voice barely steady. “Alpha Sean is willing to cooperate. He offers his assistance in capturing her.”

Daegon’s head lifted. His face remained a mask—cold, unreadable—but his jaw clenched so tight it was a marvel it didn’t snap. Alpha Sean’s aid wasn’t generosity; it was survival. Rejection of him meant annihilation, and Alpha Sean—or anyone—knew better than to defy the Lycan King.

He let his gaze sweep over the map again, slow and deliberate, tasting the tang of blood in his imagination. Daegon’s reputation was legend: Ruthless, unrelenting, merciless, a force of nature with the cunning to match. By thirteen he had surpassed his father in Aura power. By seventeen, he had claimed the crown and Lycan pack. In the twelve years since, six of the eight neighboring packs had fallen beneath his control. Only two remained, halted not by weakness, but by her rise—the Dark Aura.

She was his equal in power, her cruelty mirrored in his own. Every village she touched, every pack she terrorized, spoke of a force that would not yield. She was fire and shadow, fury and cunning, the only challenge he had ever faced that promised to burn as brightly as he could.

And yet… he would break her. One way or another, she would bow—or she would burn.

Daegon’s eyes narrowed, green flint against gold light. The storm within him was ready to spill.

“Where?” Daegon didn’t raise his voice. The single word cut through the room like a blade.

Treyton straightened instinctively. “North. She was sighted in the Blue Moon Pack’s mountains. Apparently she attempted to harvest the forming stones within.” Daegon’s eyes narrowed.

Those stones were not myths or ceremonial trinkets—they were volatile concentrations of ancient Aura, rare and dangerous even in skilled hands. When wielded correctly, they could double—sometimes triple—a wielder’s power for a short time before burning out. When mishandled, they destroyed the bearer just as easily. The Blue Moon Pack had guarded them for centuries, their territory sanctified by tradition and blood. The annual mating bond ceremony was not merely symbolic; it coincided with the blue moon, when the stones reached their peak resonance.

If the witch was after them, it meant only one thing. She was escalating. And having her sights set on those stones did not bode well for his kind.

“Did she succeed?” Daegon asked. Treyton shifted, unease rolling off him in waves.

“She claimed two of the larger stones. Over half of the remaining formations were destabilized beyond recovery.” The low growl in Daegon’s chest preceded the impact. His fist struck the table, wood cracking under the force as maps and reports scattered to the floor.

Two stones. That much power in her hands was unacceptable.

“Send word to Alpha Sean,” Daegon ordered, already turning back to the map. “I will arrive in two days to assess the damage and the pack’s security. He’ll want my presence before panic spreads.”

“Yes, Alpha.” The door had barely closed when another knock followed.