Chapter 1 – Blood Under Scarlet Moon
“Don't scream," Ilena whispered to herself, wrists burning beneath the silver-laced rope as the prison wagon jolted over a rock.
The soldier beside her snorted. “Talking to yourself now, little treaty? Heard the Alpha prefers quiet ones."
She didn't flinch. “Does he also prefer lies or just blood?"
The man laughed, then banged on the wood. “Still got teeth, boys! Maybe he'll marry her after all."
Laughter echoed from the riders. One murmured, “No, they say he eats hearts."
Ilena tuned them out. Every jolt, every hoofbeat, she counted in silence. She knew how long since the border wall—seven miles. How many guards—six, plus two wolf scouts running ahead. How many chances of escape?
None.
She stared out through the bars. A blood-red moon loomed, its edge glowing like a wound in the sky.
The driver spat over his shoulder. “That moon again. Third one this season. What kind of omen is that?"
“War," someone muttered.
Ilena clenched her hands. No. Not again. She was the peace they demanded. The offering they required. She was not going to let that be meaningless.
“Approaching Moonfang Pass!" the lead scout shouted.
The wagon slowed. Mist slithered over the snow-bitten stones. Torches flared on jagged walls, revealing a gate carved with teeth. Wolves waited beyond—hundreds in armor, steel gleaming beneath crimson moonlight. At their front stood a man, motionless as shadow, gold-ringed eyes glowing like coals.
“Alpha Brighton," someone whispered.
Ilena stood when the door clanged open. The ropes binding her were yanked as two guards hauled her out.
She stumbled, then righted herself. Head high. Chin level. If she was to die, she'd die with dignity.
“Present the offering," the commander said.
“Willing or screaming?" a soldier asked.
Ilena answered first. “I walk."
That earned a surprised chuckle. Even the wolves paused.
The Alpha raised a hand.
Silence.
He stepped forward, leather boots soundless on frost. The torches did not flicker near him.
His voice, when it came, was low. “Name."
“Ilena Selvia. Daughter of House Selvia. I come as agreed—blood-bound to cease hostilities."
His nostrils flared. “I smell lies."
She stepped closer. “Then sniff again, beast."
Gasps rippled. One wolf growled, unsheathing his blade.
Kael's hand twitched, and the wolf fell back.
“You smell of wolf-blood," Kael murmured.
“I don't know what I am anymore."
“Good," he said. “Uncertainty breeds honesty."
She blinked. “That supposed to be wisdom?"
“It's a warning. If you bleed tonight, the pact binds. If you die, war resumes. So, Ilena Selvia…" He produced a black stone etched with lunar runes. “Your blood or your life."
One of the envoys stepped forward. “We demand official procedure—"
Kael growled. “Silence. The pact is between blood, not parchment."
Ilena reached for a dagger. A soldier moved to stop her. Kael raised one brow, and the man froze mid-step.
Ilena sliced her palm. The pain shot clean through. One drop fell, landing on the obsidian.
The stone pulsed. A silver flare cut through the mist.
Wolves howled as one.
Kael stared at her, unreadable. Then stepped back.
“Take her to Ironhowl," he said.
The envoy frowned. “That wasn't—"
“Unless you'd prefer I break the pact and eat your lungs."
No one objected.
Ilena was shoved forward again. She kept her eyes on Kael. “You didn't ask if I came willing."
“I never ask prey for permission," he said.
She smiled coldly. “Then perhaps you've never met a wolf that bites back."
A flicker—maybe amusement?—crossed his face. Then nothing.
As the gates groaned open and the mountain swallowed her, Ilena whispered under her breath, “I'm not prey. I'm the prophecy you fear."
