The Night Before the Execution
1726 Words
The night before the execution, the corridors of the Wolf Palace felt colder than usual, as though even the ancient walls knew what would happen the following day.
Yura walked quickly, her cloak sweeping across the marble floor as she headed toward the throne room, where Maxim often spent his nights alone, standing before the enormous windows and staring out at the forest beneath the moonlight.
“Maxim.”
Her voice nearly broke as she spoke his name—the name she had once whispered with love, but now could only utter in desperate pleas.
“Call off the execution.”
Maxim did not turn around.
“Did you come here to beg, or to command the Alpha King?”
“I came as a mother.”
Yura stepped closer, stopping directly behind him.
“James is Robert’s son. He knows nothing about the hatred between the two of you. Why should he bear the sins of his father?”
“Because Robert’s blood runs through his veins.”
Maxim finally turned. His eyes gleamed a sharp, golden yellow in the darkness.
“And blood is the only language my enemies understand.”
“Then let Bryan go.”
Yura changed tactics, softening her voice until it was almost a whisper.
“He isn’t even part of this conflict. He’s just an ordinary young man who happened to—”
“No one ends up in my cells by accident, Yura.”
Maxim cut her off, his voice cold as iron.
“You’re hiding something about that boy. I can smell it every time you mention his name.”
For a moment, Yura was speechless.
She swallowed hard, forcing her expression to remain calm.
“I simply don’t want to watch an innocent child die for nothing.”
“Then pray that someone comes to save him.”
Maxim turned back toward the window, offering his back as his final answer.
“Because I will not change my decision.”
Yura remained standing there for a long moment, trembling as anger and fear twisted together inside her.
When words failed, she tried another way.
She closed her eyes and called upon the remnants of the dormant Luna power within her blood, attempting to break through the defenses surrounding the prison cells.
But the moment her energy touched the magical barrier surrounding the palace, she felt her body hurled backward as though she had struck an invisible wall.
Maxim’s power as the Alpha King was far beyond her own.
She fell to her knees on the cold floor, gasping for breath.
For the first time in years, Yura felt completely powerless.
Someone, please come before sunrise, she pleaded silently, staring toward the dark forest in the distance.
Anyone.
Please.
II. The Execution Arena
The morning sun bathed the royal arena in light that seemed far too bright for a day of execution.
Nobles from across the kingdom filled the stone stands, whispering among themselves with curiosity. Some had come expecting a spectacle. Others secretly felt horrified by what they were about to witness.
James and Bryan were dragged into the center of the arena, silver chains wrapped tightly around their wrists. The metal burned their skin whenever they moved.
James lifted his head, his eyes sweeping across the stands as he searched for the one face he hoped could still save him.
“My father will come,” he muttered, more to convince himself than Bryan.
“Robert won’t let me die here.”
Bryan glanced at him for a moment before giving him a faint smile—a strange expression for someone standing on the brink of death.
“If he doesn’t come, you still have me.”
“You don’t even know how to fight without transforming,” James replied, trying to joke despite the tremble in his voice.
“Then I’ll transform.”
Across the arena, Maxim ascended the stone podium, his cloak billowing behind him and his golden crown glittering beneath the sunlight.
He stood as both judge and executioner—a position he had held for years without ever once showing hesitation.
“Today,” his voice echoed throughout the arena, “this kingdom will witness that betrayal, no matter whose blood it comes from, will never be allowed to live.”
His gaze settled on James first.
“Robert’s son. You will be the first.”
“Wait—”
James took a step backward, but the chains around his wrists yanked him back.
Bryan moved quickly, stepping between James and Maxim despite his bound hands.
“If you want to kill someone, start with me.”
Maxim raised an eyebrow, slightly intrigued by the boy’s misplaced courage.
“You want to die first, Bryan?”
“I want you to know,” Bryan replied, his voice calm but firm, “that you’ll have to get through me first.”
For a fraction of a second, something flickered in Maxim’s eyes—not anger, but something far more subtle. Something even he did not understand.
But he quickly pushed it away.
“Very well.”
His voice turned cold as he raised one hand toward the executioner.
“Let us begin with the bravest one.”
III. The Girl from the Forest
Just as the executioner stepped forward, an axe gleaming in his hands, a commotion erupted at the arena gates.
The soldiers guarding the entrance were thrown backward as though struck by an invisible force.
The entire arena turned toward the disturbance.
From the morning mist lingering at the edge of the forest emerged a young girl.
Her long hair was wild and disheveled, completely unlike the carefully styled appearances of the nobles seated in the stands.
Her clothes were simple, made of leather and rough fabric—the attire of someone who had lived far from the luxury of the palace.
But it was her eyes that silenced the entire arena.
They were sharp, carrying the weight of old wounds that had never truly healed.
The soldiers attempted to stop her.
The girl tore through them without even fully transforming.
With a single sweep of her arm, three soldiers were sent crashing to the ground.
Maxim froze on his podium.
His jaw tightened.
“Lyra,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.
Yes.
The girl was Lyra—the daughter of the White Wolf Clan, whom Maxim himself had cast away years ago without ever looking back.
The atmosphere in the arena changed instantly.
The nobles who had been watching casually now exchanged anxious whispers.
Everyone knew the story of the Alpha King’s exiled daughter, even though no one dared speak of it openly.
IV. The Hatred She Had Buried
Lyra walked fearlessly toward the center of the arena, stopping directly before Maxim’s podium.
She lifted her head and stared at him with a gaze fierce enough to burn stone.
“Why did you abandon me?”
Her voice trembled—not with fear, but with the rage she had carried inside for more than a decade.
“Tell me, Maxim. I want to hear the reason, just once, directly from your mouth.”
“You have no place here, Lyra.”
Maxim’s voice remained controlled, though his jaw tightened.
“I asked you for a reason.”
Lyra’s voice grew sharper.
“Was it because I was the illegitimate child born from your relationship with Ellara? Because my existence embarrassed you in front of all these respectable nobles?”
She glanced around the stands with a bitter laugh.
“But your blood still runs through my veins, Father.”
Her eyes locked onto his.
“No matter how desperately you tried to erase it.”
Several nobles gasped at the word Father being spoken so openly.
Maxim stepped down from the podium and slowly approached her.
“I don’t remember inviting you back to this palace.”
“I didn’t come here to beg you.”
Lyra replied immediately.
“I stopped hoping you would accept me a long time ago.”
She clenched her fists.
“I spent years living in the forest with the White Wolf Clan. They deserve to be called my family far more than you ever did.”
Then she turned her gaze toward the arena.
Her eyes fell upon Bryan, who stood silently watching her.
Something changed in Lyra’s expression.
Her anger faded slightly, replaced by confusion.
Why does he feel so familiar?
“I came here,” she continued, her voice quieter this time, “because I heard there would be an execution today.”
She pointed toward Bryan.
“And I will not let that one die.”
V. The Battle Between Father and Daughter
“You have no business interfering with a royal prisoner,” Maxim said, his voice beginning to harden.
“I just made it my business.”
Lyra replied.
Without another warning, she attacked.
Her speed was extraordinary for a wild wolf raised far from the formal training of the palace.
Her claws nearly grazed Maxim’s face before the Alpha King managed to dodge.
The entire audience recoiled in shock.
No one had ever dared to attack the Alpha King directly—especially not in front of the entire nobility.
At first, Maxim merely defended himself, blocking every attack without striking back.
Whether it was because he was stunned or because of something deeper he refused to acknowledge, the truth remained the same:
Lyra was still his blood.
“Stop.”
His voice sounded more like a warning than an order.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You already hurt me!”
Lyra screamed, tears mixing with the fury in her eyes.
“Years ago, when you threw me into the forest like some broken thing!”
Her attacks became wilder.
More desperate.
Maxim finally began to strike back, revealing only a fraction of his true strength.
The difference was immediately obvious.
With a single blow, Lyra was sent crashing to the ground. She rolled several meters before finally coming to a stop.
Yet she rose again.
And again.
And again.
“You have no right to call yourself my father!”
Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she remained standing tall.
“A father does not abandon his own child!”
Every word struck Maxim harder than Lyra’s claws ever could.
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