06: THE HANMOK CITY
1660 Words
Smoke lingered in the air long before the gates of Hanmok City came into view.
Ahrem slowed at the ridge overlooking the valley, his boots sinking into damp earth as dawn bled pale gold across the horizon. Below him stood the outer borders of Hanmok City, fortified walls rising like a challenge to the sky. Watchtowers cut through the morning mist. Banners marked with the sigil of a silver wolf snapped in the wind. Even from this distance, he could smell it. Iron. Sweat. Burned timber.
And something else... it is the place of his enemy.
His wolf stirred beneath his skin, restless and alert. The silver and black within him shifted uneasily, as if trying to separate two instincts at once. One urged caution. The other leaned forward with dangerous curiosity.
He exhaled slowly.
“I know,” he murmured to himself.
Hanmok warriors patrolled the border in rotating pairs. Their movements were disciplined, precise. Unlike rogues who relied on instinct, Hanmok trained like an army. Spears strapped across backs. Swords sheathed at hips. Wolves hidden but ready beneath flesh.
Ahrem stepped forward deliberately, boots crunching gravel. But within the seconds, heads snapped in his direction.
Three warriors blocked the narrow pass leading into the lower district. Their eyes sharpened as they inhaled his scent. Not one of them missed the mountain in it. Not one of them missed the strength.
“State your name,” the tallest man demanded. His voice carried the clipped authority of someone used to obedience.
Ahrem stopped several paces away. Close enough to show he did not fear them. Far enough to avoid immediate bloodshed.
“Ahrem,” he replied evenly.
The warriors exchanged glances. “Pack?”
“I have none.”
The tension thickened instantly. If you have no pack, it means it's a Rogue.The word did not need to be spoken. It hung between them, heavy and accusing.
The tallest warrior stepped closer, nostrils flaring as he circled slightly. Testing. Measuring.
“You cross into Hanmok territory without allegiance and expect to walk freely?”
“I expect nothing,” Ahrem said calmly. “I came to speak.”
The warrior’s lip curled faintly. “Rogues do not speak. They steal. They spy. They kill.”
A low rumble vibrated through Ahrem’s chest before he could stop it. He is fully aware that this might be going to happen, but he is not afraid, instead he thought that it was a warning.
The other two warriors shifted subtly, hands lowering toward their weapons.
Ahrem raised his chin slightly. “If I came to kill, you would not have smelled me.”
The insult was deliberate.
For a split second, pride flashed in the warrior’s eyes. Then irritation followed.
“Bold,” he muttered. “Or stupid.”
Ahrem did not respond. Because that was when it happened.
The wind shifted. A new scent threaded through smoke and iron. But the difference is.. it is soft and has a floral scent. Jasmine scent layered over the rain.
Ahrem breath hitched. His wolf surged forward violently, claws scraping against bone as if desperate to break free.
"Mate.."
The word slammed into his skull so hard he staggered a half step. The warriors noticed.
“What is it?” one demanded sharply.
Ahrem barely heard him. The scent grew stronger.. and closer. It wrapped around him like silk and fire all at once. His pulse pounded in his ears. His vision sharpened unnaturally, focusing beyond the guards, beyond the stone archway leading into the training grounds just inside the gates.
And then he saw her...
She stood in the center of the courtyard beyond the entry wall, wooden practice sword in hand, dark hair braided tightly down her back. Sweat glistened along her temple. Her stance was wide and grounded, every movement precise as she sparred with a larger male warrior.
She moved like a flame...sharp, controlled and Lethal.
And when her wooden blade cracked against her opponent’s shoulder, dropping him to one knee, a fierce satisfaction curved her lips.
The scent intensified... It was the Jasmine scent and the rain.
Ahrem wolf roared inside him. "Mate."
Ahrem’s hand pressed unconsciously against the stone wall beside him to steady himself. "Impossible.?" He even questioned himself.
He had crossed into enemy territory prepared for negotiation or combat. Not this. Not the violent snap of something sacred tying his soul to the daughter of the city he had come to confront. Because he knew who she was even before one of the guards muttered her name.
“Princess Lyara.”
The word Princess rang through him like a bell. Daughter of Hanmok’s Alpha. Future ruler of this war driven city. His mate?
As if sensing the weight of his stare, she turned. Her eyes were amber lit by the rising sun. They collided with him.
The world stopped. The training ground faded. The guards vanished and the wind fell silent. There was only the bond.
Princess Lyara froze mid breath. Her wooden sword slipped from her fingers, hitting the stone with a hollow clatter. The scent of her shock spiked sharply, mixing with something electric.
“No,” she whispered, though he was too far to hear it clearly.
But he felt it. The snap of the invisible thread locking into place. Her wolf answered him.
"Mate."
The guards swore under their breath.
One grabbed Ahrem’s arm roughly. “What did you do?”
Ahrem did not resist. He could not look away.
Princess Lyara’s expression shifted from shock to fury in seconds. She strode toward the gate, boots striking stone hard enough to echo. Warriors stepped aside for her without question. Authority radiated from her like a heat. By the time she reached the archway, the guards had drawn their weapons at Ahrem’s throat.
Her gaze raked over him. She realized.. he has a mountain scent. Rogue leathers. Silver eyes burning with something she understood far too well. Her nostrils flared.
Ahrem watched the exact moment she confirmed it.
Princess Lyara's spine stiffened.
“Lower your blades,” she ordered.
The guards hesitated. “My lady,” the tallest warned. “He is rogue.”
Her eyes never left Ahrem’s. “I know exactly what he is.”
Silence fell again. Slowly, the blades lowered.
Ahrem inclined his head slightly, not in submission, but acknowledgment.
Princess Lyara stopped a few feet from him. Up close, the bond felt unbearable. Like standing too near a blazing fire. It demanded proximity.. demanded for a touch and to smell a warmed breath. Her jaw tightened as if she fought the same urge.
“You crossed into my city,” she said coldly.
“Yes.”
“Without permission?” Princess Lyara clarified.
“Yes.”
Princess Lyara walked in front of him. “Do you have a death wish?”
“No.”
A flicker of reluctant amusement crossed her eyes before she crushed it. “Then explain yourself.” she added.
The guards stepped back, but did not retreat fully. They formed a loose half circle around them.
Ahrem inhaled slowly, steadying the chaos inside him.
“I came to speak with your Alpha.”
“You will refer to him as my father,” she corrected sharply.
“Very well. Your father.” Ahrem said.
Princess Lyara's eyes narrowed at his composure. “You are either incredibly brave,” she said softly, “or incredibly foolish.”
“Perhaps both.” Ahrem said with confidence.
The corner of her mouth twitched again before she forced it still. It's because the bond pulsed between them. Princess Lyara took a slow step closer. Close enough now that he could see the faint scar along her collarbone. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin.
“You smell of mountains,” she said quietly.“You smell like rain before a storm.”
Her breath hitched.
For a fraction of a second, something vulnerable flickered in her gaze.Then the gates behind her creaked open wider. Followed by heavy footsteps, approaching their direction.
The authority entered the courtyard like a storm. Princess Lyara straightened instantly.
Ahrem felt it before he saw him. His power. the old man.. It is dominant.
The Alpha of Hanmok emerged through the archway, broad shoulders wrapped in fur lined armor, eyes sharp as drawn steel. His gaze measurably landed on Ahrem.
The air grew heavier.
“You carry a rogue scent,” the Alpha said evenly. “And something else.”
Ahrem met his stare without flinching. “Yes.”
The Alpha's gaze darted momentarily to his daughter, and a look of understanding washed over him. His expression grew somber, and the tension in the courtyard thickened, as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for a single command.
Princess Lyara’s fingers twitched at her sides. The bond flared again, it was urgent and undeniable. She is smart enough not to remember about their territory, their bloodline, and his father... the Alpha. And yet the Goddess had woven something sacred between them.
Ahrem felt the weight of it pressing against his ribs. The scent of an enemy had never been so intoxicating.. or so dangerous.
The Alpha stepped forward. “You will explain why my daughter smells claimed,” he said quietly.
Every warrior in the courtyard reached for their weapon.
Princess Lyara did not move.
But Ahrem did not bow. Instead, he spoke the truth that would either unite kingdoms or burn them to ash.
“She is my mate.”
Gasps rippled outward. The word echoed against stone walls.
Princess Lyara’s heart pounded loud enough he could hear it.
The Alpha’s eyes flashed with fury.
In that single heartbeat, Ahrem understood something critical. This was no longer just about war.This was about pride. And pride, he knew, killed faster than claws.
The scent of an enemy had become the scent of destiny. And destiny had just walked through Hanmok’s gates.
- Writer
