Claimed by King

Chapter 10: Exile and Survival

(Juliana's POV)

The mountains stretched endlessly before me, their jagged peaks piercing the horizon like the teeth of a great beast. The air was thin and cold, biting at my skin through the tattered clothes that clung to my frame. Each step felt heavier than the last, my legs burning with exhaustion as I forced myself forward.

I had nothing to guide me but the faint whispers of my wolf, her voice like a flickering candle in the back of my mind.

"Keep moving," she urged softly, her tone both commanding and soothing.

I tightened my grip on the makeshift staff I had found along the way, using it to steady myself as I climbed higher. The ground beneath me was uneven, littered with loose rocks that threatened to send me tumbling down at every misstep.

The pain in my left arm was a constant reminder of what I'd endured. It throbbed with every heartbeat, the lingering aftershock of the dark energy I had unleashed at the east border. My body hadn't been prepared for such power.

"Will I ever be?" I whispered aloud, my breath visible in the cold air.

The sun was beginning to set when I stumbled upon a narrow ledge, barely wide enough for me to rest on without the fear of falling. I sank to the ground, my body trembling from exhaustion and hunger.

The contents of my small satchel were pitiful: a stale piece of bread, a half-empty flask of water, and a small knife. I stared at the bread, my stomach twisting in both hunger and disgust.

"You'll need your strength," my wolf said, her voice firmer now.

"I know," I muttered, taking a small bite and forcing myself to chew. The bread was dry, scraping against my throat as I swallowed.

I leaned back against the cold stone of the mountain, staring up at the darkening sky. The first stars were beginning to appear, their faint light shimmering like distant memories.

Memories I still couldn't fully piece together.

The wind picked up as night fell, howling through the mountains like a mournful wail. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep warm as the temperature dropped.

"You're stronger than this," my wolf said, her voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts.

"Am I?" I asked bitterly, my voice trembling. "Because I don't feel strong. I feel... lost."

Her silence was heavy, but I could feel her presence, steady and unwavering.

"You've been through worse," she said finally.

Her words stirred something inside me—memories of the battle, of the man who killed my parents, of the King's betrayal. The pain and anger that surged through me were like embers reigniting into a flame.

"You're right," I said quietly, my resolve hardening. "I can't let this break me."

The morning came too quickly, the weak sunlight doing little to chase away the cold. I forced myself to stand, my muscles stiff and sore from the night.

The terrain grew steeper as I climbed, the air growing thinner with every step. But I didn't stop. I couldn't.

By midday, I reached a small plateau, the first level ground I'd seen in hours. My breath caught as I looked around. Nestled against the side of the mountain was a small village, its rooftops barely visible through the dense trees that surrounded it.

"Do you see it?" I whispered to my wolf.

"Yes," she replied. "But be cautious. We don't know who lives there."

I nodded, gripping my staff tightly as I made my way toward the village.

The village was quiet, eerily so. The houses were simple, made of wood and stone, their windows dark and unwelcoming. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, the scent of burning wood hanging in the air.

As I stepped into the center of the village, I felt eyes on me. My wolf bristled, her presence sharpening in my mind.

"They're watching," she said.

Before I could respond, a man stepped out from one of the houses. He was tall and lean, with sharp features and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through me.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low and measured.

I hesitated, my grip tightening on my staff.

"Just... a traveler," I said cautiously.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to the mark on my shoulder.

"You're more than that," he said, stepping closer. "That mark... it means something."

I instinctively took a step back, my wolf growling softly in my mind.

"Leave," she urged.

But before I could decide, more villagers began to emerge, their faces etched with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

"She's one of them," a woman whispered, her voice tinged with fear.

"She has the mark," another man said.

The blue-eyed man raised a hand, silencing the growing murmurs.

"Come with me," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

I hesitated, my wolf snarling in protest.

"You're not safe here," he added, his voice lowering.

Something in his tone made me pause. There was no malice in his words, only urgency.

Against my better judgment, I nodded.

He led me to a small house at the edge of the village, its interior sparse but warm. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the walls.

"You're not just a traveler," he said, turning to face me.

I didn't respond, my body tense.

"You're running," he continued, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. "And if I'm right, they'll come for you soon enough."

"Who?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached for something on the table—a small, worn book.

"You're not the first to bear that mark," he said, holding the book out to me. "And you won't be the last."