Fated to Fall

Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Cracks in the Iron Wall

The battle at the western borders was supposed to be decisive. Draven had led his pack into the fray with his usual cold precision—no mercy, no hesitation. The insurgents, a rebellious faction that had threatened the Silver Claw pack for months, were to be crushed beneath the weight of his power.

But something had changed.

In the heat of battle, Draven’s movements had slowed. His reaction time faltered. His mind, usually razor-sharp, was clouded. His warriors, loyal and strong, had been forced to carry him, as if his usual strength had been stripped away in an instant.

Rynar, Draven’s loyal Beta, had noticed it first. The Sovereign had always been a force of nature—unrelenting, unstoppable—but now, as his enemies pushed forward with renewed vigor, Draven had faltered, stumbling on the battlefield. He had nearly been overwhelmed before his men rushed to protect him, dragging him away from the fighting.

“Sovereign,” Rynar had said with disbelief, his voice thick with confusion, “What’s happened to you?”

Draven’s cold silver eyes met his Beta’s, but there was something unfamiliar in them—something… weakened. “I’m fine,” he gritted out. “Continue the fight.”

But even his command was weaker than usual, and Rynar couldn’t ignore the shift in his leader’s presence. Draven had always been the embodiment of strength, a man who could tear through enemies with his own two hands. Now he was barely holding himself together.

Back at the fortress, whispers spread faster than wildfire. Draven’s weakness wasn’t just a concern among his closest allies—it became the subject of hushed conversations throughout the entire pack.

No one dared to voice it to his face, but the truth was clear: The Sovereign was no longer the unshakable ruler they had once followed. His energy was drained, and no one could understand why. Even his fiercest warriors, who had always worshipped him, began to question his authority.

Virella had heard the rumors.

She was in her chambers, staring out at the darkened skies when she overheard the pack’s whispers drifting through the halls.

“Have you heard? The Sovereign faltered today. He… He’s weaker than ever.”

“He can’t fight like he used to. Something is wrong with him.”

“He’s been strange lately, hasn’t he? Like he’s not the same man anymore.”

Virella’s heart skipped a beat. She couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of guilt. She knew Draven’s weakness wasn’t just physical. It was her. Their forced bond, their lack of real connection—it had weakened him.

Her chest tightened. What had she done? She had pushed him away, rejected everything he had tried to force on her, and now… now he was weakening because of it. The fact that he wasn’t being honest about it only made the situation worse.

This wasn’t the man she had imagined when she first arrived.

The pack, though loyal, couldn’t ignore the truth. Despite Draven’s ruthlessness, despite his iron grip on their lives, they couldn’t deny that his strength had always been their foundation. Without him at his full capacity, what would happen to their home, their wealth, and the peace Draven had preserved for so long?

Rynar, ever the loyal Beta, watched Draven carefully, his brow furrowed with concern.

“Sovereign,” Rynar began, his voice low, as the two stood alone in Draven’s chambers, “The pack is whispering. They can feel your weakness. They don’t see you as invincible anymore.”

Draven’s gaze was sharp, but the usual fire was dimmed. “Let them talk,” he said, his voice cold, but not with the same intensity it had once held. “I don’t care about their pity.”

Rynar didn’t look convinced. “The pack does, Sovereign. They need to see you strong again. If they think you’re weakening… other packs will smell blood in the water.”

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Draven’s eyes. “I won’t show them weakness,” he replied, his voice a growl. “No one will know what’s happening.”

But Draven’s words weren’t convincing, even to him.

Later that night, as Virella lay on her bed, staring at the flickering candlelight, something inside her began to stir—an unsettling curiosity. She had always believed that Draven’s ruthlessness was his only trait, his power unbreakable and cold. But now, she saw cracks—cracks that reflected his true vulnerability.

What had happened to him? What was making him weak?

She remembered the glimpses she had caught of his hidden fears, his silent moments of hesitation, and she began to wonder if there was something more to Draven than just the Sovereign—the man who ruled with a fist of iron.

That night, her resolve grew. She would find out what was happening. She would uncover the truth about Draven, the real reason for his power—because it was clear now: It was tied to something deeper, something that had nothing to do with the bond they shared.

Virella began to search the fortress, sneaking into old chambers she had never dared explore before. She dug through dusty tomes, searching for any clues about the Sovereign’s bloodline, his family, and the ancient prophecies that Draven had kept hidden.

What she uncovered was nothing short of shocking.

Draven’s wolf form wasn’t just unique. It was mutated—linked to an ancient prophecy that no one had dared to speak of. His bloodline had been marked by a rare and dangerous mutation, one that could either destroy him or grant him unimaginable power. This mutation, however, had a dark secret: It required a mate to stabilize it—and his bond to her had to be forged by love, not force.

Draven had forced the bond with her because he had no choice—it wasn’t just about power. He had been trying to survive.

The realization hit Virella hard. Draven was not just a dictator; he was a man fighting against a curse he couldn’t control.

By the time Draven realized the full extent of his weakness, it was too late. Word had already spread—other packs, sensing vulnerability, began to make plans to rise against the Silver Claw pack. They saw an opportunity, and soon, they began to test the borders, sending messengers, and even launching covert attacks.

Rynar and the other loyalists were quick to react, but the truth had spread far too quickly. Draven was weakening, and the packs could smell blood.

Even Draven’s strongest supporters were now questioning their loyalty, wondering if they had followed a ruler who had unknowingly set them all up for failure.

Could Draven recover? Or had his time passed?