The days after the ceremony passed in silence—a silence too deliberate, too heavy to be peace.
Lycanthra, for all its savagery, had its own kind of beauty. From the windows of her new chamber, Isabella watched the city breathe beneath the silver dawn: wolves in armor sparring in the courtyards, banners of black and silver rippling in the wind, rivers glinting like molten steel.Everything in Lycanthra moved with purpose. Discipline. Devotion. Obedience.
Everything, except her.
She was a queen in name, a prisoner in truth. Yet she refused to rot behind marble and moonlight.
That morning, she decided to explore.
The Walk of Shadows
Calen met her outside her chamber, his expression caught somewhere between duty and worry."The Alpha ordered you to remain within the Citadel, Your Highness," he reminded softly.
"And I am within it," Isabella replied, drawing her hood over her dark hair. "Unless, of course, the Alpha fears his queen might bite."
Calen sighed, but fell into step beside her.
They descended through winding corridors carved of black stone veined with silver—the kind that caught the light like trapped lightning. The Citadel was a fortress of paradoxes: brutal and exquisite, feral and civilized. Wolves bowed as she passed, though most did not meet her gaze. Some snarled under their breath. Others crossed their chests in silent defiance.
Let them, she thought.Fear was a kind of power, too.
At the end of the eastern wing, she found a grand archway leading into an open courtyard—the Walk of Shadows. Here, statues of past Alphas lined the path, their stone eyes glowing faintly under runes of protection. Between them, night-blooming flowers grew in clusters, their petals shimmering silver-blue beneath the morning mist.
"Do wolves honor their dead?" she asked quietly.
Calen hesitated. "We honor what they left behind—their strength, their victories. The dead themselves… they are the Moon's now."
"And what of those who fell unjustly?"
He looked at her then, surprised by the question. "Justice is a luxury in Lycanthra. Mercy, even more so."
She smiled faintly. "Then your Alpha rules well."
Calen's eyes flickered with something—pain, perhaps. But before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air.
The Alpha King
"Enjoying your stroll, Princess?"
Ryan stood at the far end of the courtyard, arms folded, golden eyes catching the sunlight like molten metal. His tone was mild—too mild.The kind of calm that preceded storms.
"Merely acquainting myself with my… home," she said, her voice a measured silk. "Unless that, too, requires your permission."
He stepped closer, boots whispering against the stone. "You test limits you barely understand."
"And you fear a woman who walks through your halls," she countered.
A shadow of a smile curved his mouth. "Fear? No. But curiosity…" He let the word linger like smoke. "That, perhaps."
The air tightened. For a moment, neither spoke. The bond between them thrummed, faint but unmistakable—a low, steady pulse that felt like it came from beneath the skin.
Ryan's gaze dropped to her hand, where the faint scar of the blood vow still shimmered faintly. "The bond marks you now. You feel it too."
She held his gaze. "It feels like a chain."
"Or a leash," he said softly. "Depending on who's holding it."
The words landed between them like a blade.Calen cleared his throat quietly. "Your Majesty," he murmured to Ryan, "the council awaits your presence."
Ryan didn't look away from her. "Dismissed."
Calen hesitated, glancing at Isabella. She nodded once, allowing him to leave.
When they were alone, Ryan said, "You should tread carefully, Isabella. This place is not kind to outsiders."
"Then it will have to learn," she said, turning away from him. "I do not break easily."
His wolf stirred, amused.She doesn't know how close she stands to the edge.
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You mistake survival for strength. They are not the same."
She turned, eyes glinting crimson. "And you mistake cruelty for control."
For a long, taut moment, they stood in silence—two predators circling the invisible thread between them.
Then Ryan smirked, low and dangerous. "If you wish to play queen, Princess, learn the game first."
"And if you wish to rule me, Alpha," she replied, "learn my kind's patience. We always outlive our hunters."
The Library of Silver Ash
By evening, Isabella found herself wandering again—this time into a chamber tucked deep beneath the northern wing. The air here was cooler, scented faintly with parchment and old smoke.It was the Library of Silver Ash, a relic of the first kings, built before the wars between wolf and vampire. Rows of tomes lined the walls, some bound in leather, others in bark and bone.
As she ran her fingers across the spines, whispers stirred in her mind—the faint echo of forgotten magic.She paused before an old volume engraved with both vampire runes and Lycan script.Her heart quickened.
The Book of the Eclipse Pact.
She had heard of it—ancient, forbidden, said to hold the prophecy of a union between enemies that would either save or destroy the world.Her world.
"Curiosity again?" came Ryan's voice from the shadows.
She didn't turn. "Do you always stalk your wives, or am I a special case?"
He stepped into the dim light, half of his face in shadow. "Only the dangerous ones."
She traced the runes with one slender finger. "Tell me, Alpha. What does this book say about us?"
"That some bonds are meant to burn the world," he said.
She looked at him then, her expression unreadable. "And do you intend to start the fire—or end it?"
Ryan's eyes softened for a fraction of a second—barely visible, but enough. "I haven't decided yet."
The silence stretched between them again, heavy with everything unsaid.When she finally turned to leave, she felt his gaze follow her.
Neither of them noticed the faint shimmer that passed through the runes as she walked away—nor the single line of ancient text that glowed softly in her wake:
When blood and moon unite, the darkness shall remember its name.