The Half-blood crown

THE ROGUE HOWL

They rode through the night. The moon was a thin crescent, barely lighting the road. Sera's legs ached. Her eyes burned. But she did not slow. The child's face haunted her—wide eyes, blood on her hands, a mother dead in the rubble.

They caught up with the rogues at dawn.

The pack had stopped at a river crossing, half a day's ride from the capital. Fifty wolves, maybe more. They were not organized like a proper pack. They were ragged, feral, wild-eyed. Some walked on two legs. Some on four. All of them reeked of blood and madness.

Sera dismounted and signaled her force to spread out. They had sixty wolves. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

"We can't take them head-on," Kael said quietly. "Not without losses."

"Then we don't take them head-on." Sera studied the terrain. The river was wide and fast. The rogues had camped on the far bank. There was a narrow bridge half a mile upstream. "We split them. Draw half across the bridge, ambush them on this side. Then hit the rest before they can regroup."

Kael nodded slowly. "It could work. But someone has to lead the ambush."

"I will."

"No. You're too important. Let me."

Sera looked at him. "I'm the one they want. If they see me, they'll charge. That's the point."

Kael held her gaze. Then he nodded. "Fine. But you don't fight alone. I'll be beside you."

"Deal."

They moved into position. Sera took twenty wolves to the bridge. Kael took the rest and hid in the trees along the near bank. The sun rose higher. The rogues stirred. One of them—a huge grey wolf with a torn ear—lifted his head and sniffed the air.

He saw her.

Sera stepped onto the bridge. She did not shift. Not yet. She drew her sword and waited.

The grey wolf howled. The pack answered. Half of them surged toward the bridge, teeth bared, eyes burning.

Sera held her ground. The first rogue reached her—she sidestepped, drove her sword through its chest, and kicked it into the river. The second came. She cut it down. The third. The fourth.

Her wolves joined the fight. Steel clashed. Snarls filled the air. Blood spilled on the stones.

Then Kael struck.

He burst from the trees with forty wolves, hitting the rogues on the near bank from behind. The pack panicked. They had not expected an ambush. They turned to fight, but Kael's force was organized, disciplined, deadly. In minutes, the near bank was clear.

The rogues on the far bank howled in fury. The grey wolf—their leader—stared across the river at Sera. His eyes were red. His jaws dripped with foam.

He did not retreat. He charged the bridge.

Sera met him halfway.

He was bigger than her, heavier, mad with rage. His claws raked her arm. She felt the sting, the warmth of blood. She ignored it. She dropped her sword—it was useless against a wolf this size—and let the shift take her.

It came faster this time. Less pain. More power.

She exploded into her wolf form—silver and black, gold eyes, a crown of moonlight. She was smaller than the grey wolf, but faster. She dodged his lunge, sank her teeth into his flank, and threw him against the bridge railing. The wood cracked. The grey wolf tumbled into the river.

He did not surface.

The remaining rogues hesitated. Their leader was gone. They looked at Sera—a wolf unlike any they had seen—and they broke. Some fled into the forest. Some dropped to their bellies in surrender.

Sera shifted back. She stood on the bridge, naked and bloody, but unashamed. She looked at the surviving rogues.

"Who sent you?" she demanded.

One of them—a thin, shaking wolf—shifted back to human form. He was young. Barely more than a boy. "We don't know his name. He wore a mask. He paid us in silver and promised us land. He said the half-blood princess would be easy to kill."

Sera's blood ran cold. "Where did you meet him?"

"The old mill. South of the capital. He said he would send more orders after the first attack."

Sera turned to Kael. "Voss."

Kael nodded. "Or someone close to him. We need to get back to the capital before the rest of the rogues arrive."

"There are more?"

The boy nodded. "A hundred. Maybe more. He said they would attack the capital when the blood moon rises."

Sera looked at the sky. The moon was still thin, still dark. But it was growing. They had maybe two weeks.

"Bind the prisoners," she said. "We ride for the capital. Now."

---

They reached the city gates at midday. The guards let them through without question—Sera's reputation had spread. The half-blood princess who fought like a demon. The heir who buried her enemies.

She went straight to the throne room. The council was already in session. Voss sat at the center, calm and composed. Darius stood beside him. They looked up when she entered, blood-stained and exhausted.

"Princess," Voss said. "You've returned. We heard there was a battle."

"There was." Sera walked to the center of the hall. "The rogues were hired. Paid in silver. Told to attack the capital on the blood moon."

Murmurs rippled through the council. Voss's expression did not change.

"Who would do such a thing?" he asked.

"I don't know yet." Sera met his eyes. "But I will find out. And when I do, I will hang them from the castle walls."

Voss's smile was thin. "Bold words, Princess. But you are still unwed. The council has not recognized your full claim."

"The council can recognize my claim or answer to the people." Sera turned to the gathered nobles. "I fought for you. I bled for you. I buried a child's mother because of a war I did not start. And I will not stand here and be lectured by men who hid behind these walls while my people burned."

The hall was silent.

Then—slowly—one of the nobles stood. An old lord, grey and bent. "The princess speaks the truth. She fought. She led. She is our heir."

Another stood. Then another. Then another.

Voss's face went white.

Sera did not smile. She did not gloat. She simply nodded.

"Send word to every pack," she said. "The capital will be attacked on the blood moon. We have two weeks to prepare. And I will not let it fall."

She turned and walked from the hall. Kael followed.

Behind them, Voss sat frozen, his hands trembling on the arms of his chair.

The war had begun.......