ChapterThree
1828 Words
DRAVEN
Fate?
Destiny?
Fuck both of them.
Why does everyone bow to the idea of fate? Kiss it’s ass? Why do people let it dictate their lives as if some unseen force is holding their leash? What the hell even is fate? A name? A person? If it is, then f**k that guy, because I carve my own path. I write my own story. And being King means my word is law.
Nightbane City. Once, it belonged to the Silverfang Pack. Back then, they were locked in an endless struggle with four other packs, clawing and biting for dominance. So how did my pack take the throne? Simple—power.
Fifty years ago, my people lived in Royal City, the heart of the empire. That was before it all fell apart. Betrayal. Bloodshed. Exile. We were cast out like diseased dogs and thrown into this war-ridden wasteland, Nightbane. My father, newly elected to rule, had one mission—reclaim what was ours. He spent his life hunting revenge. Claiming it was His fate. His destiny. His only goal in this f*****g life.
But guess what? He f*****g failed.
His dream rotted away in the dirt, but not before he twisted me into a monster, forcing his ambitions onto my shoulders. Claiming it’s the path laid to us. But I am not my father.
Fuck him.
Fuck everyone.
I walk my own path.
Selene still looked stunned, her body tense, her eyes flickering with the faintest trace of hope—maybe this was a dream, maybe she could still wake up. But she would learn soon enough. She is mine now.
I clenched my jaw, my voice cutting through the silence. "Get her cleaned."
The servants waiting in perfect rows lowered their heads in submission.
"Prepare the master chamber for her. She stays there from now on."
A soft gasp escaped one of the maids, but none dared to question me. Selene belonged in my space. Close. Under my watch.
"Yes, my Lord," Jessicah, my head servant, responded smoothly before stepping forward. With a swift motion, she gestured for the others to take Selene away.
Our eyes met one last time. She didn't fight. She didn't scream. She was too composed. That amused me.
I smirked. Let’s see how long that lasts.
"Elly."
My voice was steady, but it carried weight. A presence.
Every Alpha is born with a Moonbind. A soul-bound servant chosen by the Elders, trained from birth to be our shadow, our keeper. They are not just assistants; they are an extension of us. Bound by loyalty, by duty—by force.
Elly stepped forward, dressed as he always was in a black tailored suit, his posture immaculate, his expression calm. He preferred the look of a refined butler, but I knew better. Beneath that crisp suit was a blade sharper than most warriors.
"Yes, Lord?"
I turned on my heel, walking toward the council chamber.
"Gather the Elders. We’re having a meeting."
Elly bowed slightly, the corners of his mouth barely twitching.
________________________________________________________________________
The great hall of Nightbane stood in absolute silence, save for the crackling torches that lined the stone walls, casting wavering shadows across the room. The long table was filled with Alphas and Elders, each representing the fifteen packs that had bowed before me. Fifteen packs. Fifteen conquered legacies.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers lazily tapping against the wooden armrest as their voices clashed in murmurs, hushed yet filled with discontent.
“What is that all about, my Lord?”
Alpha Jared’s deep voice broke through the noise. He was the kind to speak with restraint, but there was an edge of accusation in his tone. “You just awakened from your slumber, disappeared… and now you have a mate? One from there?”
A scoff.
“Yes, my Lord!” Elder Martin, one of the oldest remnants of the Silverfang Pack, stepped forward. The torches reflected off the silver streaks in his hair, the only softness about him. He was famous for his medical knowledge, respected for his wisdom. But even wisdom could be tainted with prejudice.
“There is a reason we do not align with those bastards from Royal City.”
“For f*****g generation we have been in war with them! We hate each other so it doesn’t make sense marking on from there as your mate,”
The murmurs turned into an uproar.
I exhaled slowly, scanning the room. Watching. Listening. Letting them talk.
Until I no longer felt like listening.
“So what?” My voice cut through the noise, calm yet commanding. “She is my mate. Does it matter where she came from?”
The room tensed.
“Seriously, my Lord?”
Elder Enzra, one of the more outspoken ones, leaned forward. His eyes glowed with aged scrutiny, a lifetime of battles and betrayals darkening his gaze. “I could smell her blood. She’s not just weak, not just powerless—but she carries their scent.”
I didn’t reply.
I simply observed.
Their fears. Their doubts. Their hesitation.
The silence stretched, pulling tight like a rope strangling the air itself.
Then Alpha Issac from Bluefeather spoke, his voice deep, unwavering. Unlike the others, his concern wasn’t about where she came from—but what it meant.
“What are you trying to do by marking her?” His eyes gleamed like a hunter’s under moonlight. “Are you declaring war against them?”
His words were straightforward. Bluefeather wolves were the easiest to control—they followed strength. They bowed only to the powerful. If there was ever a dispute among them, there was no need for debate—a fight settled everything. And I had beaten every single one of them into the ground.
Seven Alphas sat at my feet from Bluefeather alone. Their loyalty was unquestionable. They had seen my strength, and strength was their law.
Then came Grayfang. The cautious pack. The watchers. They feared me more than they followed me. I could sense their wariness, their unspoken questions. Would they obey out of true loyalty, or was it simply fear keeping them on their knees?
It didn’t matter.
I pushed myself up from my seat, slow, deliberate. The air in the hall thickened as I straightened to my full height, my fingers curling at my sides.
“You’re right, Issac.”
My voice was quiet—too quiet.
Then I took a step forward, my presence pressing against them like a growing storm.
“I never followed my father’s footsteps. I never gave a damn about his vendetta.” My words rolled off my tongue like a promise soaked in venom. “I lived the way I saw fit. I ruled the way I saw fit. I never wanted to be bound by old grudges.”
The flickering torches seemed to darken as the temperature in the room shifted.
“But one thing is certain.”
The shadows stretched.
The walls felt like they were closing in.
Then I let it loose.
Power.
Like an unseen wave, my presence exploded outward, slamming into them like a crushing tide. The weight of an Alpha—no, the weight of a King.
The Elders gasped, eyes widening as the air grew dense, suffocating. Alpha Jared stiffened, his claws unsheathing instinctively. A ripple of submission swept through the room, bodies tensing, throats tightening as my aura bled into their bones.
I let my lips curl into a slow, vicious smirk.
“Twenty-five years ago, it was them who struck first.”
My voice deepened, turning into something darker, something dangerous.
The memory clawed its way back. The screams. The burning. The scent of blood in the cold wind.
“They stole from us. They stripped us of our name, our home, our honor.”
A slow chuckle rumbled from my chest—low, lethal, unhinged.
“War is inevitable.”
The declaration settled over them like an inescapable truth.
“And I will have my revenge.”
Another wave of pressure surged forward. Some Elders gritted their teeth, fighting to keep their footing. Others bowed instinctively, heads lowering.
I watched them struggle.
“For what they did that day…”
I exhaled, voice dropping into something almost intimate.
“…I will drown them in their own f*****g blood.”
“Lord!” they cry in unison.
A growl rumbled from deep within my chest, a slow, guttural sound that sent vibrations through my ribs. The air felt thick, suffocating. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, its presence coiling around my mind like smoke, intoxicating and inescapable.
Then, like a black tide, darkness engulfed me.
I exhaled, stepping into his realm.
Unlike others, I had never simply "felt" my wolf or spoken to it through my mind. I walked into his domain.
A realm of endless night.
The ground beneath me wasn’t solid. It shifted like mist, swallowing my footprints as I moved. The sky above was a swirling abyss, devoid of stars, an endless void stretching beyond reason. A nightmare given form.
And there, standing amidst the black mist, was him.
My wolf.
A massive, hulking beast, its body shrouded in shadows that billowed like smoke. I had never seen his true form. His silhouette flickered between shapes—one moment, monstrous claws; the next, jagged wings. But always, always, those eyes.
Red and orange, burning like fire, watching me.
His voice slithered into my mind, deep and guttural, layered with something ancient, something monstrous.
I scoffed, crossing my arms.
"Ha! Ha! Let loose?" I mocked, tilting my head as I gazed at him. "You rushed all the way there just to mark her! Why didn’t you let loose back then?"
The shadows thickened, pulsing with his amusement.
A flicker. A memory.
The scent of something unfamiliar, something that shouldn’t have existed in this world.
Her scent.
I clenched my jaw. "Yeah, she has a different scent. I’ve never smelled anything like it before."
The beast rumbled in dark laughter.
Yet even back then, she had felt like ours.
The memories clawed at me—a glimpse of silver in the moonlight, wide eyes staring back at me, her tiny frame trembling… but not from fear.
I exhaled slowly.
"Yeah, you're right. She was made for us."
The words felt final, absolute.
"In this wretched world, maybe she will be more entertaining."
The beast shifted, the mist parting as his form flickered in and out of existence.
My smirk curled, wicked and possessive.
"Oh well," I mused, rolling my shoulders. "Didn’t we mark her with that in mind?"
The Grey Wolf. The Oblivion. The White Queen.
Whatever they call themselves. I don’t f*****g care.
No matter what fate tried to steal from me.
She belonged to me now.
My voice dropped to something raw, something primal.
"No one will ever take her from us again."
A slow, dark chuckle spilled from my lips. "Even if it means burning everything down."
- Writer
