THE WOLF AND THE WITCH

Chapter 03

The moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a silvery glow across the lavishly decorated room. Alysa, disguised as Cresent, stood by the bed, her fingers toying with the delicate lace of her gown. Fang, who had been seated at the edge of the room near the large window, looked out into the night, his expression distant.

Her heart raced, not from the excitement of a new marriage, but from the weight of the mission she had carried with her. Alysa wasn’t here for love—this union was her chance to continue the royal bloodline of the witches, to secure the future that had been stolen from her people.

She moved toward him, each step deliberate, her breath shallow as she neared his muscular frame. He didn’t look at her as she approached, only continued to stare out the window, his broad shoulders tense. The silence between them was thick, heavy with unsaid words and hidden intentions.

Alysa placed a hand gently on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. "It’s our wedding night, Fang," she whispered, her voice soft, a plea hidden within.

Fang’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t turn. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, as though the weight of the kingdom lay in the darkness beyond. "I know," he replied, his voice low, almost regretful.

Her fingers trailed from his arm to his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat, steady and strong. She pressed herself closer, her breath hot against his neck. "Then why do you hesitate?"

Finally, Fang turned to face her, his amber eyes meeting hers, though there was something different in his gaze—something unreadable. His hand lifted, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, but his touch was cold, distant.

"I have duties to the kingdom, Cresent," he said, using the name that wasn’t hers. "Responsibilities that go beyond this night. We’re bound by more than just desire."

Alysa swallowed the growing frustration. She couldn’t afford to fail. Her kingdom—what little remained of it—depended on this. She was the last. If she couldn’t conceive a child with Fang, the bloodline of the witches would end with her.

She slid her arms around his neck, drawing him down toward her, her lips grazing his ear. "We are bound by more than duty tonight," she murmured. "We’re bound by fate."

But Fang stiffened, his hand coming up to grip her wrists gently, yet firmly, pulling her away from him. He stepped back, creating a space between them that felt insurmountable. His eyes softened, but there was a hard edge to his voice. "I won’t betray my duty, even for fate."

The words hit her like a blow, and Alysa’s heart sank. Her body trembled with the mixture of anger and fear that rose inside her, but she forced herself to remain composed, the facade of Cresent still firmly in place. She smiled—a tight, hollow smile—and nodded as if she understood, but inside, her mind was racing.

"I see," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she turned away, slipping out of her gown and into the bed, the silken sheets cool against her skin. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to Fang’s quiet movements as he extinguished the candles and settled into a chair across the room. The space between them felt endless, and Alysa’s heart ached with disappointment, but she swallowed it down, forcing herself to remain still.

Soon, sleep took her, but it was not a peaceful slumber. Her dreams were filled with fire and screams, flashes of a memory that had haunted her since childhood.

The flames danced high in the night sky, the thick scent of smoke filling the air. Alysa, no older than five, crouched low in the bushes, her tiny body trembling as she watched the horror unfold before her. Wolves—dozens of them—stormed through the town, their eyes glowing with malice, their claws dripping with blood.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs as she watched her village burn. The witches—her people—were being slaughtered, their powers no match for the sheer brutality of the wolves. Her heart pounded in her chest, every fiber of her being screaming at her to run, to flee before they found her too.

But she couldn’t move. Her legs felt like lead, her eyes glued to the sight of her parents standing in the center of the chaos. Her mother, powerful and regal, stood tall, her magic swirling around her like a protective shield. Her father stood beside her, his sword drawn, a fierce determination in his eyes.

Alysa wanted to cry out to them, to run to their side, but she knew she couldn’t. She had to stay hidden. Her mother had told her to hide, to stay silent no matter what happened. So she bit her lip until she tasted blood, her small body shaking with fear.

Then it happened.

A wolf, larger than the others, lunged at her mother, teeth bared. Her mother’s magic flared, but it wasn’t enough. The wolf’s claws ripped through the barrier, and before Alysa could blink, her mother crumpled to the ground, blood staining the dirt beneath her.

A scream ripped from Alysa’s throat, but it was swallowed by the roar of the fire. Her father turned, horror etched on his face as he watched his wife fall. But before he could react, another wolf attacked, his sword clattering to the ground as he too was overpowered.

Alysa’s heart shattered as she watched her parents die before her eyes, their blood mingling with the earth. She pressed herself deeper into the bushes, her small hands clutching the leaves as if they could protect her from the nightmare unfolding around her.

The wolves continued their rampage, but they never found her. Somehow, by some miracle, she survived. She was one of the few who escaped that night, but the memory of it—the sight of her parents’ lifeless bodies—was burned into her mind forever.

Alysa woke with a start, her body drenched in sweat, her heart hammering in her chest. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The memories of the past had felt so real, so vivid, that she half-expected to find herself back in that burning village, the scent of blood and smoke filling the air.

But instead, she found herself in the quiet, luxurious room of the castle, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains. Fang lay beside her, his face peaceful in sleep, his hand resting gently on her arm.

Alysa’s breath caught in her throat, her body going rigid at his touch. The memory of the wolves—the same creatures who had slaughtered her people—clashed with the reality of the man lying next to her. Fang wasn’t like the wolves from her past, but that didn’t matter. He was still one of them. And as much as she hated to admit it, part of her would always see him as the enemy.

She pulled away from him, slipping out of bed as quietly as she could. Her body trembled as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

But it was too much. The memories, the fear, the anger—it all came crashing down on her, and she sank to the floor, her hands clutching her head as she rocked back and forth.

Fang stirred behind her, his voice thick with sleep as he called her name—Cresent’s name. "Cresent?" His hand reached out toward her, but Alysa flinched away, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Don’t," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Don’t touch me."

Fang’s eyes widened in confusion, but he pulled his hand back, respecting her space. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle, but Alysa couldn’t hear it without feeling the weight of the past.

"I can’t..." Her voice broke as she scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t stay here, not with him. Not with a wolf. Her hand shot out, pushing him toward the door, her strength fueled by the fear and fury surging within her. "Get out."

Fang stumbled, clearly startled by the sudden outburst, but he didn’t resist. He stepped back, his brows furrowed in concern, but Alysa didn’t give him a chance to speak. She slammed the door shut behind him, her chest heaving as she pressed her back against it, tears streaming down her face.

She slid to the floor, burying her face in her hands as the memories of that terrible night washed over her. The fire, the blood, the screams—it all came rushing back, and she was that terrified little girl again, hiding in the bushes, watching everything she loved burn.

And now she was here, in the heart of the wolf kingdom, married to one of the creatures who had destroyed her life. Her mission had been clear from the beginning: seduce Fang, secure the future of her people. But how could she, when the mere sight of him stirred the rage she had spent her whole life trying to bury?

Alysa curled into herself, her sobs wracking her body as she cried for the family she had lost, for the future that seemed impossible, and for the hatred that still burned so fiercely in her heart.