Prologue Part 2.2
933 Words
•|• Author's POV •|•
Not wanting to believe something he has given up on years before Valerian stepped away from the throne slowly.
“No,” he said quietly. “I would have sensed it before now.”
“Not necessarily,” Xandros replied. “If the bond only recently awakened.”
Khaeloer suddenly burst out laughing.
“Oh this is beautiful,” he wheezed. “The terrifying King of Velmora reduced to mood swings because of a mate.”
Valerian shot him a murderous glare.
Khaeloer immediately coughed and looked away.
Calisto folded his arms.
“You need to calm the beast before you tear someone apart.”
Valerian’s jaw tightened.
“I am perfectly under control.”
The entire room looked unconvinced.
Xandros sighed.
“Go for a run.”
Valerian looked offended.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Shift,” Calisto said bluntly. “Hunt. Burn the excess energy out before you snap another elder in half.”
One elder paled visibly.
Valerian glared at them all.
But deep inside…
He knew they were right.
Something primal was clawing through him.
Restless.
Hungry.
Searching.
Without another word, Valerian turned sharply and stormed from the hall.
The moment he disappeared, the elders collectively exhaled.
Khaeloer grinned. “This should be entertaining.”
Xandros rubbed his temples. “Or catastrophic.”
•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•
Far beyond the borders of Velmora, the northern wilderness stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight.
Dark forests.
Frozen rivers.
Ancient ruins swallowed by snow.
And somewhere within them walked Malachi Bloodthorn.
The vampire warlord moved silently through the woods, black cloak brushing against dead leaves. Unlike the nobles of Velmora, Malachi preferred isolation.
Violence was simpler than politics.
Tonight, however, unease lingered beneath his skin.
He did not know why he had wandered so far from the border.
Only that something kept pulling him deeper into the forest.
Then he heard screaming.
Malachi stopped instantly.
The scent hit him next.
Blood.
Wolves.
Fear.
He moved soundlessly through the trees until the scene unfolded below him.
A woman ran through the snow.
White hair streamed behind her like silver fire beneath the moonlight. Her bright blue eyes glowed unnaturally against the darkness while torn black robes clung to her body.
Witch.
Behind her charged six rogues from the North.
Massive beasts.
Foaming mouths.
Golden eyes filled with madness.
Malachi remained hidden among the trees.
Watching.
The witch stumbled but caught herself quickly, breathing hard as she pressed one hand against her bleeding side.
One rogue lunged.
The woman spun sharply.
And the air changed.
Power exploded outward.
The ground trembled beneath Malachi’s boots.
The witch lifted her hand toward the sky, blue eyes blazing brighter than the moon itself.
Then she spoke in an ancient tongue.
The forest screamed.
A monstrous roar erupted from nowhere.
The shadows behind her split apart—
—and something massive emerged.
Malachi’s eyes narrowed.
The creature towered over the trees.
Silver fur.
Glowing white eyes.
Antlers made of bone and moonlight.
The Moon Beast.
Even the rogues froze.
The creature roared once more before tearing into them with horrifying speed.
Blood painted the snow instantly.
Bones cracked.
Screams echoed through the woods.
Within seconds the rogues were dead.
The witch stood trembling while the Moon Beast loomed protectively behind her.
Malachi stared carefully.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Witches capable of summoning ancient lunar entities were nearly extinct.
But there was something else.
Something wrong.
The power surrounding her felt old.
Older than kingdoms.
Older than Velmora itself.
The witch suddenly turned.
Her bright blue eyes locked directly onto Malachi’s hidden position.
Silence swallowed the forest.
The Moon Beast growled softly.
Malachi did not move.
Neither did she.
Then the witch whispered something under her breath.
The creature behind her slowly dissolved into silver mist.
Interesting.
She had sensed him immediately.
Malachi stepped back slightly, deciding he had seen enough.
This was not his problem.
Yet just before he vanished into the darkness—
the wind shifted.
And a voice echoed softly through the trees.
“The moon born has awakened"
Malachi stopped.
His crimson eyes narrowed.
The witch remained motionless beneath the moonlight.
Then she spoke again.
“She will either unite them…”
A cold chill slid down Malachi’s spine.
“…or burn it all.”
Silence.
The prophecy lingered between them like a curse.
Malachi stared at her for several long seconds.
Then he disappeared into the forest without another word.
But for the first time in centuries…
Unease settled deep within his dead heart.
—
Miles away, deep within Velmora’s territory, something massive tore through the forest at terrifying speed.
Valerian.
Half shifted.
Claws extended.
Silver-black fur spreading across parts of his body while crimson eyes burned through the darkness.
Trees shook as he ran.
His heartbeat thundered violently in his ears.
Mate.
The word echoed endlessly inside his mind.
Impossible.
Yet every instinct screamed otherwise.
Then suddenly—
He stopped.
The forest fell silent around him.
Valerian inhaled sharply.
A scent.
Faint.
But unmistakable.
Moonlight.
Winter.
Magic.
His entire body went rigid.
The beast inside him surged violently.
Somewhere far away…
His mate existed.
And for the first time in centuries, the terrifying king of Velmora smiled.
It was not a comforting smile.
It was the smile of a predator who had finally caught the scent of something that belonged to him.
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