The Midnight Prince

The Wolf Who Dreamed First Part 1

The Midnight Prince

Ashen

“What happened to the little cinder boy after he left the pack?” my son asked.

“He ran,” I said.

“For how long?”

“Long enough to learn that freedom does not always feel like flying.” I looked into the fire, watching the blue edges curl around the gold. “Sometimes freedom feels like hunger, cold feet, and not knowing which road will kill you slowest.”

My daughter frowned. “That does not sound like a nice fairy tale.”

“No,” I said softly. “But it was an honest one.”

“Did he miss the princess?”

I turned the old ring on my finger.

“He tried not to.”

My son scoffed. “That means yes.”

I smiled faintly.

“Yes,” I said. “It means yes.”

For two days, Ashen Drakewood and Nara walked the outer road beyond SilvaFrost territory.

They did not follow the main paths.

Main paths belonged to merchants, royal patrols, bounty hunters, and wolves eager to be paid for information. By then, word had spread through LunariaNova that Princess Moona PentNova had been taken by rogues.

And with her, an omega named Ashen Drakewood.

That was what the notices said.

Ashen had seen one nailed to a frozen post outside a border market while Nara bought dried fruit with the last of the coins hidden in her boot.

Princess Moona PentNova abducted.Omega Ashen Drakewood missing with her.Reward offered.Treason for anyone withholding information.

He had stared at the words until they blurred.

Nara had touched his sleeve. “Ash?”

He stepped back from the notice.

“I am right here,” he said.

But the kingdom was not looking for him.

Not truly.

It was looking for his name.

Someone else had stolen the shape of it.

Someone else was with the princess.

Someone else was in danger because of it.

Or worse—because of him.

They walked until Nara’s feet blistered.

Then they walked slower.

Veyra vanished and reappeared as she pleased, sometimes ahead of them, sometimes behind, sometimes in the branches eating apples she absolutely had not bought.

On the second night, they made camp beneath a twisted pine near the old northern road.

Nara divided the food carefully.

“Two pieces of dried meat each,” she said. “Half an apple. A bite of cheese.”

Veyra looked offended. “That is not dinner. That is a threat.”

“It has to last,” Nara said.

“I am a thousand years old. I refuse to be rationed by a child with practical skills.”

Nara hugged the food pack closer. “Then hunt.”

Veyra blinked.

Then looked at Ashen. “I like her.”

Ashen almost smiled.

Almost.

His face still hurt when he tried.

Nara noticed anyway.

“You should sleep,” she said.

“So should you.”

“I will if you do.”

“That is childish.”

“That is sibling law.”

He looked at her.

She lifted her chin.

He sighed and leaned back against the tree.

“Fine.”

It should have been impossible to sleep.

His body ached from the chains and Callan’s fists. His wrists were bandaged with strips torn from his shirt. His stomach twisted with hunger. Every sound in the forest made him think of guards.

But exhaustion was stronger than fear.

So he slept.

And dreamed of Moon.

She stood in a room lit by red fire.

Not palace fire.

Wrong fire.

Hotter. Darker. Hungry at the edges.

Her wrists were bound in silver-thread rope, but her chin was lifted, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. Even in a dream, even surrounded by smoke, she looked like a princess no one had successfully conquered.

Ashen tried to move toward her.

His feet would not obey.

Between them stood another boy.

Ash-blond hair.

Winter-blue eyes.

His face.

But not him.

Wrong.

The dream-boy was on his knees, blood at his mouth, shoulders shaking as a man with fire in his scent stood over him.

Dorian Calder.

Ashen did not know how he knew the name.

He simply did.

Dorian smiled and lifted a hand wreathed in flame.

Moon pulled against her bonds.

“Stop,” she said.

Dorian glanced at her. “Then tell me how he made you feel it.”

The fake Ashen coughed, head hanging.

“I don’t know,” he rasped.

Not Ashen’s voice.

Almost.

But not.

Ashen’s wolf stirred beneath his skin.

Chains rattled in the dark.

Moon turned her head suddenly, as if she sensed him watching from beyond the dream.

Her eyes found the shadows.

“Ashen?”

He woke with a gasp.

Snow drifted down through the branches overhead.

The fire had burned low.

Nara sat upright across from him, breathing hard, one hand pressed to her chest.

Veyra was no longer eating apples.

That alone was alarming.

“You saw her,” Nara whispered.

Ashen went still. “What?”

“The princess.” Nara’s voice trembled. “Smoke. Fire. A boy who looked like you but wasn’t you.”

Cold moved through him.

“You dreamed that?”

She nodded.

Then her eyes changed.

Not in color.

In depth.

Something silver-white moved behind them, luminous and ancient, and for the first time in her life, Nara did not look like a frightened girl trying to survive a pack that hated her.

She looked like a wolf waking under moonlight.

Veyra rose slowly.

“Well,” the fae whispered. “That happened earlier than I expected.”

Nara gripped her chest. “Ashen.”

He crawled toward her. “What is it?”

“It hurts.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Her back arched.

A silver glow broke around her shoulders, faint at first, then bright enough to turn the snow blue-white.

Ashen reached for her, but Veyra caught his wrist.

“Do not.”

“She is in pain.”

“She is breaking.”

“That is not better.”

“It is if what breaks is a chain.”

Nara cried out.

The sound tore through the forest.

Above them, the clouds parted.

Moonlight fell in a single beam across the clearing.

Nara’s shadow stretched behind her.

Then the shadow moved.

A wolf rose from it.

White.

Not pale gray.

Not snow-touched.

White like moonlight on untouched ice.

She was smaller than the massive wolf Ashen had always felt buried somewhere in himself, but no less striking. Her fur shimmered with faint silver markings, and her eyes glowed like stars seen through frozen glass.

Around her neck hung a chain of dark frost.

It cracked.

Once.

Twice.

Then shattered.

Nara collapsed forward into Ashen’s arms.

The white wolf stood behind her, free and breathing hard.

Ashen stared.

His sister’s wolf lifted her head.

Then, inside the clearing, a voice spoke.

Not aloud.

But through the heart.

Novett.

Nara’s lips parted. “Her name is Novett.”

Veyra bowed her head slightly.

Ashen saw it.

“You knew.”

“I knew she had one,” Veyra said. “I did not know when Novett would break through.”

Nara clutched Ashen’s coat, shaking. “She says she has been trying to reach me.”

Ashen held her closer. “Can she speak to you?”

Nara nodded.

“And…” Her eyes lifted toward the moon. “She can hear Her.”

Veyra’s expression became unreadable.

“The Moon Goddess?” Ashen asked quietly.

Nara swallowed. “Only pieces. Like whispers through water.”

His chest tightened.

Moon had said her wolf could hear the Goddess.

That's what Nara’s wolf said Moon could too.

Novett stepped closer, her silver eyes fixed on Ashen.

Then the world changed again.

Not a full dream.

Not sleep.

A vision.

The clearing blurred.

Moon appeared between the trees, not in body, but in light. Her face was pale. Her eyes were open but clouded, as if she fought through fog.

Behind her, fire burned.

Beside her, the wrong boy with Ashen’s face hung in chains.

Dorian held something up.

A ring.

Ashen’s mother’s ring.

Moon reached for it.

The vision snapped away.

Ashen lunged forward, but there was nothing to catch.

Only snow.

Only the dying fire.

Only his sister staring at him with tears in her eyes.

“She is alive,” Nara whispered.

Ashen closed his eyes.

The relief nearly took his knees.

Then came the guilt.

Alive.

But taken.

Alive.

But with Dorian.

Alive.

But believing perhaps that the boy beside her was him.

He stood.

Too fast.

His body protested. He ignored it.

“We go north,” he said. “To my mother’s uncle.”

Nara blinked. “What?”

“Mother told me once. Before she died. Her uncle’s pack is outside LunariaNova’s border, near the Frostveil road.