Chapter 1 — The Stable Boy
1518 Words
The smell of wet hay and wolf fur clung to the air.
Dawn had not yet touched the valley, and frost still hugged the grass outside the wooden stables. Inside, Kael Draven shoveled manure into the old cart, each motion steady and silent.
The others were already outside — training under moonlight, their howls echoing through the pack grounds like thunder. Kael could hear them: the young wolves running drills, claws scraping against stone, their laughter carried by the wind.
He tightened his grip on the shovel. The sound always cut deep.
Once, he had stood among them. Once, he had dreamed of feeling his wolf stir beneath his skin — the surge of wild strength, the moment every wolf child waited for. But his night never came.
He was sixteen now, and the pack called him Hollow.
The boy without a wolf. The Alpha’s shame.
“Still hiding in here, stable rat?”
Kael didn’t need to turn. He knew the voice — Daren Voss, the Alpha’s favored warrior. The scent of arrogance reached before he did.
Kael kept shoveling. “Not hiding. Working.”
Daren laughed, a sharp, cruel sound. “Working? You mean cleaning up after real wolves?” He leaned against the stall post, crossing his arms. “Your father should’ve drowned you at birth. No wolf, no bond, no purpose. Just a useless human feeding beasts that pity him.”
Kael said nothing.
He’d learned long ago that silence hurt them more.
Daren’s smirk faltered. He stepped closer, grabbing Kael’s shoulder and shoving him hard. “Look at me when I speak to you, freak.”
Kael’s body hit the stall door. The horses stirred, restless. A low rumble filled Kael’s chest — not a growl, not quite. Just anger trapped in a cage.
“I said, look at me!” Daren raised a hand.
A sudden snarl cut through the air.
The horse in the nearest stall reared, hooves flashing. Daren cursed and stumbled back, barely avoiding a kick that could’ve crushed his skull. Kael caught the reins, whispering softly until the beast calmed.
Daren glared at him, humiliated. “Tch. Keep your freak animals in line, Hollow.”
He stormed out, his boots crunching over the frozen mud.
Kael watched him go, jaw tight. The anger inside him pulsed, unspent. But what good was anger to a boy who couldn’t shift?
When silence returned, Kael leaned his shovel against the wall and stepped outside. The sky was pale gray — dawn pushing back the last of the night. The training field stretched beyond the stables, wolves shifting in flashes of silver and brown fur, their howls synchronized under the fading moon.
At the center of them stood Alpha Roan Draven, his father.
The man was carved from pride and power, his aura commanding even when silent. Every movement radiated control — the kind of control Kael would never know. His father’s wolf, a massive black beast with eyes of molten gold, had once led ten packs into war. Now those same eyes looked past Kael as if he were invisible.
Kael didn’t stay to watch.
He turned toward the far fields where the forest began, where the fog still clung to the ground. That was his refuge — the place beyond the pack’s scent, beyond their judgment. He slipped through the trees, the air colder there, purer.
He sat on a fallen log, exhaling clouds of mist. His hands ached from work, but he didn’t mind. Pain was real. It kept him anchored.
From his pocket, he pulled out a small pendant — a broken moon carved from bone. His mother’s.
He closed his fist around it.
“Why me?” he whispered. “Why no wolf? Why did you leave me like this?”
Only the wind answered, carrying the faint echo of distant howls.
By mid-morning, the pack assembled near the stone arena. Kael stood in the shadows, unseen, as the Alpha addressed his warriors.
“Tonight marks the Blood Moon Cycle,” Roan’s deep voice carried across the field. “Each of you will prove your bond with your wolf. The strongest among you will lead the next generation into the northern territories.”
A cheer erupted. The pack loved these rituals — tests of strength, dominance, and unity.
Kael watched, heart tight. He remembered standing there as a child, trembling with hope. His Awakening had come and gone, but no wolf answered. The Moon Goddess had turned her face away.
He still remembered his father’s voice that night:
“A Draven without a wolf is no son of mine.”
Kael had been thirteen. Three winters later, he still wore those words like a chain.
When the meeting ended, the pack dispersed. Kael slipped back to the stables to finish his chores. The air smelled of rain now. Dark clouds gathered over the mountains, promising a storm.
He had just finished stacking hay when someone entered. The scent was unfamiliar — soft, wild, not of the pack. He turned.
A girl stood at the door. Cloaked in gray, hood low over her face, bare feet wet with mud. Her presence was quiet, but something about it made the air shift.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Kael said cautiously. “This is Draven territory.”
She didn’t answer. She stepped closer, lifting her gaze.
Her eyes stopped him cold.
Silver. Not gray, not pale — silver, like moonlight caught in water.
For a heartbeat, the world tilted. A sound whispered through the air — not words, not wind — something older. Kael felt it stir beneath his skin, deep where nothing had ever answered before.
He swallowed hard. “Who are you?”
The girl’s voice was soft. “Lost.”
Before he could ask more, a horn sounded outside — the pack’s warning call. The girl flinched, eyes flashing with fear.
“They found me,” she whispered.
Kael frowned. “Who—?”
Before she could answer, three figures burst through the doorway — pack hunters, armored, their eyes glowing faintly with Alpha fire.
“There she is!” one shouted. “Seize her!”
The girl stumbled back. Kael moved without thinking, grabbing her wrist. “This way!”
He led her through the rear gate, into the trees. The hunters shouted behind them, claws scraping against stone. Kael ran faster than he thought possible, the girl’s hand cold in his.
They broke through the forest edge, into the ravine where mist coiled like living smoke.
“Who are they?” Kael demanded, breathless.
“Not yours,” she said. “Not anymore.”
The ground trembled.
A howl rose — not human, not wolf — something twisted and wrong. From the fog, shadowed shapes emerged — wolves, but their fur crawled with dark veins, their eyes hollow white.
Kael froze. “Corrupted…”
The girl’s voice dropped. “Run.”
But Kael didn’t move. Something inside him broke open — the same pulse he had felt under the shattered moon in his dreams. The sigil on his chest burned, faint light flickering beneath his skin.
The nearest corrupted wolf lunged. Kael pushed the girl aside, raising his arm. For a moment, instinct took over — not thought, not fear.
The world slowed.
His heart roared like thunder.
And for the first time in his life, he heard it —
a distant, echoing howl that wasn’t his own, yet came from within.
The corrupted wolf hit him — and exploded into black ash.
Silence followed.
Kael dropped to his knees, panting, smoke curling from his arm where faint lines of silver still glowed. The girl knelt beside him, eyes wide.
“You heard it, didn’t you?” she whispered.
Kael looked at her, chest heaving. “Heard… what?”
“The call,” she said softly. “Your wolf… it’s waking.”
Lightning flashed above the forest, splitting the sky. For an instant, Kael saw it again — the same mark from his dreams glowing beneath his skin, a wolf made of shadow and starlight.
And from somewhere beyond the storm, a voice whispered in his mind:
“We meet again, Hollow One.”
Kael staggered, gripping his head. The girl caught his arm, steadying him.
Her touch was cold — yet comforting.
“What’s happening to me?” he breathed.
Her silver eyes met his. “The Realms are remembering you.”
Thunder cracked overhead. Rain poured down, washing the ash away.
Kael looked toward the mountains where his pack’s fires burned in the distance. The life he knew was gone, slipping away like smoke.
He didn’t know who this girl was, or what hunted her.
He didn’t even know what had awakened inside him.
But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t empty.
The silence in his soul was gone — replaced by a heartbeat that wasn’t human.
And somewhere in that storm, a wolf howled — calling his name.
That night, the stable boy died. And the Alpha of the Forgotten Realms began to stir.
- Writer
