Rise of the hybrid king

Chapter 5

The heavy doors of the Crimson Moon throne hall opened with a resonant thud.
King Dennis, ruler of Crimson Moon and father of Prince Zane, strode inside with the authority of a man who commanded armies with a single word. His broad shoulders carried scars of battles past, and his deep voice filled the chamber even before he reached the steps of the dais.
Zane stood from where he had been reviewing patrol reports and bowed his head respectfully.
King Dennis stopped before him, a proud yet stern look in his eyes.
“I bring great news,” the King declared, his voice echoing across the marble hall. “All the Lords of the Great Elite Packs will be arriving soon. They will gather here at Crimson Moon for the Full Moon Festival.”
Zane’s brows lifted slightly. The Elite Packs? That meant alphas from the strongest bloodlines — wolves known for their pride, politics, and ambition.
King Dennis’s tone sharpened.
“Make sure not even a leaf is out of place when they arrive. Every hall, every guard formation, every ceremony — perfect.”
Zane straightened fully.
“Of course, Father. I’ll oversee the preparations personally.”
King Dennis nodded with approval, but his eyes narrowed slightly.
“And Zane — remember.”
He placed a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder.
“During the Full Moon Festival… many eyes will be on you.”
A silent message was hidden in those words.
Choose wisely. Present yourself as the future King. Perhaps even choose a mate… publicly.
But Zane’s jaw tightened.









Ashborn Castle roared to life with drums and cheers as Prince Vorus returned from the northern border.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and commanding, Vorus wore his armor like a second skin — the scent of steel and frost still clinging to him. He bowed respectfully to the crowd of warriors who saluted him, but his hard gaze softened the moment he spotted his mother and sister.
Queen Selene stood proudly by the long dining table, her expression rarely soft — but today, her eyes shone with unmistakable joy.
Vorus approached first to his mother, bowing his head. She allowed a brief touch to his cheek — her own silent blessing.
Then he turned to Sable.
Before she could speak, he leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead.
“It’s good to see you, little wolf,” he said with rare affection, hand settling protectively on her shoulder.
Sable smiled, relief warming her chest. “Welcome home, Vorus.”
They took their seats at the head of the table — Vorus on King Aloha’s right, Sable on his left. The feast began with roasted stag, spiced roots, and golden mead flowing freely.
Vorus’s nature mirrored his mother’s — stern, controlled, not easily swayed — but beneath that discipline pulsed the undeniable fire of their father’s warrior blood. He was Alpha through and through, his wolf awakened long ago, settled and powerful.
Unlike Sable.
She carried the blood of their mother’s Lycan lineage. And her father lineage too , 1 wolf and 1 lycan within her . 
A beast far more ancient, far more feared — and far less predictable.
A beast that still slept within her.
As laughter filled the hall, Vorus leaned closer, voice low enough only for her to hear.
“I heard what happened near Crimson Moon.”
Sable stiffened.
“Lexa told you?”
A faint smirk. “Lexa tells me everything.”
She rolled her eyes, but before she could respond —
He asked quietly,
“Did anyone hurt you?”
Her expression softened.
“No.”
He studied her carefully — like he sensed more beneath her words.
But he said nothing further.
The great hall of Ashborn fell into a comfortable rhythm of chatter, clinking goblets, and laughter — until Prince Vorus rose from his seat.
His presence alone was enough to silence the room.
He set his goblet down with calm authority.
“Father. Mother.”
King Aloha lifted a brow, intrigued.
“I bring news from the Northern Border.
Vorus’s gaze swept confidently across the warlords and nobles seated below before he spoke.
“I have successfully formed an alliance with the witches.”
The room stirred sharply — startled murmurs rising like sparks.
Witches. The very beings wolves had hunted and cornered for decades. Mistrusted
“Wolves have crushed them for too long. They have grown desperate and cautious — which made negotiation… convenient.”
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his lips.
“They agreed to stand with Ashborn in the coming war.”
King Aloha threw his head back with a booming laugh, pride radiating from him.
Queen Selene’s stern expression softened, pride glimmering in her usually unreadable eyes.
“Well done, Vorus.” Her voice held rare warmth.
Applause erupted.
Sable forced a smile, but her stomach tightened.
An alliance with witches meant dangerous magic on their side. Power that could awaken things best left undisturbed…
Especially within her.



 Sable’s eyes flashed cold. She didn’t like being kept out of plans that might drag Ashborn into war — and she hated being lied to.
“What else did he tell you?” she asked again, voice low.
Lexa’s shoulders tensed. “What, what? He just brought three witches with him — they’re staying at the castle.”
Sable’s jaw tightened. “Lead the way.”
Lexa’s face went white. “Are you crazy? Guards are everywhere, Sable. I don’t want to get caught this time.”
Sable stepped closer, the moonlight catching the hard set of her mouth. “If you don’t, I’ll tell Mother about your secret meeting with Vorus.”
Lexa’s eyes widened. “You’re cruel.”
Sable’s smile was ice. “And I’m tired of being kept in the dark.”
Lexa hesitated — then, with a muttered curse, nodded. She had secrets to hide, and her throat was not ready for another scandal.
They moved at once.
Lexa led them through a series of narrow service corridors and past a pair of sentries by the stables — a route only those who’d grown up in the castle would know. 
They skirted around the eastern herb garden where the moonlight pooled silver on the leaves. At the base of the old watchtower, Lexa paused and pressed her ear to a patch of ivy. She mouthed a direction — a small latch hidden beneath the stone, a stair spiraling down into the earth.
Sable slid the latch and the stones betrayed a faint scent: smoke tempered with clove and something else — a sweet rot that made her throat tighten. Witches’ scent. Old magic.
The stair narrowed until it opened into a vaulted cellar lit by amber lanterns. Three women sat around a low table. Their hair and dress were different — one braided with bone, another wrapped in crimson silk, the third cloaked in moss-green — but their eyes were all sharp, bright, and very much awake.
They looked up as the girls stepped in.
“Ah,” the bone-braided witch said, voice like dry leaves. “Visitors at this hour.”
Vorus’s sister.”
The witches nodded as if that explained everything. The braided witch rose, stepped close, and peered at Sable as if seeing the lines of her bones.
Then she said, quietly, almost to herself, “He is asleep.”
Sable flinched. “Who?”
The braid-witch’s gaze slid up to meet hers. “Your beast.” The words fell like a stone. “It sleeps deep. That is why you came.”
Sable’s breath caught in her throat. She forced herself to steady her voice. “Yes. I— I discovered my mate not long ago. Nyra suffers. She is restless and pained, I want you bind her make her sleep till war ends “
A hush. The three women exchanged looks that were almost hungry.
Then all three grinned at once—slow, thin smiles that did not reach their eyes.
“Ah.” The crimson-cloaked witch’s smile was a cut of moonlight. “You would have us bind her.”
Sable’s hands curled until her nails bit into her palms. “Bind her. Make her rest. For the good of Ashborn.”
If we bind her… it could wake you, beast-lycan,” the braid witch warned softly.
Sable lifted her chin. “Yes. I know. I’m ready. My family is in need.”
The three witches studied her in silence for a long moment — then all slowly nodded.
“Everything has a price, my dear princess,” one whispered.
“We have one too.”
Sable stepped forward without hesitation.
“Name it.”
The crimson-eyed witch smiled, slow and knowing.
Lexa stiffened beside her. “Seal? What do you mean—”
Sable cut her a sharp look. “It doesn’t matter. If it keeps Nyra asleep… I accept.”
The witches exchanged a satisfied glance.
“So be it.”
They drew the circle. Flame rose blue. Sable stepped into the center, eyes burning with fierce resolve.
Behind her, Lexa whispered in fear.
“Sable… do you even know what you just agreed to?”
Sable didn’t look back.
“I don’t care,” she breathed. “This is my choice.”
And as the chanting began, the witches smiled — not kindly.
For the seal had been named.