I was less than a ghost in the South Valley pack house.
Ghosts at least haunt.
They demand to be noticed.
Drag chains make the air grow cold.
I did none of that.
I existed in the cracks in the dark corners where the torch light didn’t reach.
Huddled against the cold that seemed to live permanently in my bones.
My name was Serena, but most called me only girl or thing, or simply snapped their fingers when they needed the floor scrubbed or the fireplace ashes collected.
I slept in a leanto attached to the stables, wrapped in horse blankets that smelled of moldy hay and animal sweat, and ate whatever the cook, on her days of rare mercy, left by the back door.
18 years of invisibility.
18 years learning that being an omega with no lineage, no family, and eyes of a strange violet color that everyone said was a sign of bad luck was a sentence of silence.
That night, the winter was particularly cruel.
The wind howled like a pack of wounded wolves, shaking the loose planks of my precarious shelter.
Snow had been falling for three straight days, burying the world in a white mortal silence.
I was trembling so hard my teeth were chattering a painful rhythm, trying to rub warmth into my thin arms through the worn fabric of my coat.
The firewood was gone.
If I didn’t want to freeze before dawn, I needed to go to the edge of the forest to gather fallen branches.
It was forbidden to go out after curfew, and the ancient forest was death territory, but the cold was a more immediate executioner than any pack rule.
I wrapped an old scarf around my face, covering my silver hair, which I kept perpetually smudged with soot to avoid drawing attention, and stepped out into the storm.
The snow hit my face like glass needles.
I walked with difficulty, the snow reaching my knees, the sound of my ragged breathing swallowed by the gale.
Just a few branches, I murmured to myself.
A prayer to no one, just enough to survive one more night.
That’s when I heard it.
It wasn’t the sound of the wind in the trees.
It wasn’t the howl of a distant wolf.
It was a sound that didn’t belong in that place of death and ice.
A cry, weak, choked, intermittent.
The sound of a tiny life fighting the immense void.
I stopped.
My heart pounding hard against my ribs.
Impossible.
I thought no one would leave something alive out here.
But the sound came again.
A sharp note of despair that cut through the noise of the storm and struck something deep within me.
Something I didn’t even know existed.
An instinct.
A cord being pulled.
I dropped the few branches I had managed to gather and ran.
Not toward the safety of the house, but into the trees.
Into the darkness of the forbidden forest.
My feet stumbled over hidden roots.
The snow poured into my leaky boots, burning my skin, but I couldn’t stop.
The cry was a beacon.
“Where?” I yelled, the wind stealing my voice.
“Where are you?” a whimper.
To the left, near a gnarled oak tree whose branches looked like black claws against the gray sky.
I forced my body through a snowbank and fell to my knees in a small clearing.
There, half buried by the relentless white, was a wicker basket, simple, rustic, almost invisible.
With trembling, numb hands, I brushed the snow away.
The wicker was frozen.
Inside, wrapped only in a blue wool blanket that was already stiff with ice, was a baby.
The shock paralyzed me for a second.
It was a girl.
Her face was modeled purple and blue.
Her delicate skin burned by the cold.
Her eyes were closed, long eyelashes covered in frost.
She had stopped crying.
The silence coming from that basket was worse than any scream.
It was the silence of surrender.
“No,” I whispered, horror tightening my throat.
“No, no, no.
You will not die out here.
” I ripped off my gloves, needing to feel her skin, needing to know if there was still warmth.
I touched her cheek, cold as marble.
“Please,” I begged a moon that never answered me.
“Please.
” I didn’t think of the consequences.
I didn’t think that if they found me with a dead baby, they would accuse me of murder.
I thought only that she couldn’t die alone in the snow.
I opened my coat, exposing my own chest to the biting wind, and lifted her from the basket.
She was light, too light.
I nestled the small frozen body against my skin, trying to transfer every ounce of warmth I had left to her, wrapping us both in my dirty coat.
I’ve got you, I murmured, swaying us in the snow.
I’ve got you.
Wake up.
Come on, little one.
Wake up.
And then it happened.
It wasn’t a gradual warming.
It was an explosion.
The moment her skin touched the skin of my chest above my heart, a searing pain tore through my left wrist.
I screamed, a sharp sound lost in the storm.
It felt like someone had pressed a branding iron, incandescent and cruel, directly into my flesh.
The smell of ozone and burnt magic filled the frozen air.
What? I tried to look at my arm, but the pain was blinding.
And then I felt it, a heartbeat against my chest, fast, strong.
I looked down.
The baby had opened her eyes, and they were not the eyes of an ordinary newborn.
Milky and vague.
They were golden liquid amber glowing with an internal intelligent powerful light that illuminated the forest darkness.
They were the eyes of a predator.
Alpha eyes, king eyes.
The purple color was draining from her face before my eyes, replaced by a healthy pink, as if the fire burning my wrist was fueling her life.
She looked at me deep into my soul and stopped trembling.
I looked at my wrist, where the pain was starting to subside into a constant warm throbbing.
I pushed back the ragged sleeve, on the pale skin of my inner wrist, where there had been nothing but blue veins and dirt.
There was now a mark, black and gold, perfect, a wolf howling at a crowned moon.
The air left my lungs.
I knew that symbol.
Everyone on the continent knew it.
It was the crest of the royal house of the north, the crest of King Dante Fletcher, the supreme alpha, the man they said had gone mad with rage and grief after his wife and daughter disappeared 3 months ago.
I looked at the baby at the golden eyes.
You are her, I whispered, terror and reverence mixed in my voice.
You are Princess Luna, the lost air.
She blinked slowly, and a tiny warm hand reached out from the blanket and grabbed my finger.
The touch sent another wave of heat through my body.
Not of pain, but of connection.
Pure, absolute, unbreakable.
I had to get out of there.
I had to take her to safety.
But where? If I went back to the leanto, she would freeze.
If I went to the village, someone might steal her for the bounty.
The only option was the pack house.
Alpha Phillip, who commanded this territory, was a greedy, cruel man.
But he feared King Dante more than anything.
He would know he couldn’t touch the air.
I stood up, my legs trembling under the weight of the revelation in the cold.
“Hold tight, Luna,” I told the baby, shielding her head with my hand.
“We’re going to find your father.
” The runback was a blur of adrenaline.
I no longer felt the cold.
The mark on my wrist radiated a warmth that kept my entire body heated, a magical furnace that propelled me forward.
I reached the gates of the pack house, breathless, pounding on the heavy wood with my free fist.
Open up for the moon’s sake.
Open up.
A window opened in the guard house.
A guard looked down, his face contorted with annoyance.
Who is yelling at this hour? Uh, it’s you, the stable rat.
Go away before I release the dogs.
I have something you need to see, I yelled, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
Stronger, more authoritative.
Call Alpha Phillip now.
The alpha is dining.
He doesn’t have time for your Just then, Luna moved inside my coat.
She didn’t cry.
She made a sound.
A growl.
Small, yes, coming from an infant throat, but carrying such primal authority that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
The guard above choked.
The guard dogs in the courtyard, which had started barking, instantly fell silent and began to whimper, lying flat on the ground in submission.
The gate opened, not because the guard wanted to, but because he was terrified.
I walked into the courtyard.
Alpha Phillip strode out of the main house, wiping his mouth with a napkin, his face red with wine and irritation.
What is the meaning of this? Who dares interrupt my He stopped when he saw me.
a dirty servant in the middle of the storm, holding something against her chest as if it were gold.
“Show me what you stole, girl,” he snarled, descending the steps.
“If it’s food, I’ll have your hand cut off.
I stole nothing,” I said, holding my ground.
“I found her in the forest.
She was dying.
” I opened my coat just enough to reveal Luna’s face.
The baby’s golden eyes fixed on Philillip.
The alpha, a 40-year-old man with battle experience, recoiled a step, turning pale.
Those eyes, he whispered.
It can’t be.
They said she was dead.
Greed replaced the shock on his face.
He saw the opportunity, the reward, the king’s favor, the princess, he said, his voice becoming oily.
Give her to me, girl.
Now, you are not worthy to hold such a precious thing.
He reached out his thick hands.
I will take care of her.
I backed away.
My instinct screamed.
Danger.
He didn’t want to care for her.
He wanted to use her.
No, I said she needs warmth, milk, not your hands.
You dare disobey me? Philip snarled, his face contorting in rage.
He lunged forward too fast.
I will take her and throw you to the wolves.
He grabbed my arm to pull me away, but he grabbed the left arm.
The moment his skin touched mine.
Over the mark, there was a flash of light.
Philip screamed and was thrown backward as if he’d received a high voltage electric shock.
He fell in the snow, clutching his burned hand.
I stood still, stunned.
My coat sleeve had ridden up in the struggle.
The royal mark was exposed, glowing, pulsating with a golden light that cut through the darkness of the courtyard.
The wolf and the crowned moon burning on my skin like a warning beacon.
Philip looked at the mark.
Pure terror flooded his eyes.
He knew what that meant.
Everyone knew the ancient legends, the bonding mark, the magic the king didn’t control, but which chose who would protect his lineage.
The king’s mark,” he stammered, scrambling backward in the snow.
“You, you have been marked.
” The guards around him lowered their weapons, looking from me to the fallen alpha.
“Don’t touch her.
” Philip screamed at his men, his voice hysterical.
“If you touch her, the king’s magic will kill us all.
She is bonded.
” I looked at the mark, then at Philillip.
I felt power rushing through my veins, a strange and wonderful heat coming from the baby in my arms and the mark on my wrist.
I was no longer invisible.
I was dangerous.
I want to send a message to King Dante, I said, my voice clear and cold in the night air.
Tell him his daughter is alive and that I am waiting.
Philip nodded frantically, still on the ground.
Immediately, immediately bring the best carriage.
Prepare messengers.
He stood up but kept his distance, looking at me as if I were a bomb about to explode.
Come inside, please.
We will we will accommodate you.
No one will hurt you.
I swear.
I walked into the pack house.
Not through the back door where I entered as a servant.
Through the front door.
With every step, I felt the weight of destiny settling on my shoulders.
I had saved the king’s daughter.
I carried his mark.
My old life had ended the moment I entered that forest.
What began now was something far more terrifying.
I looked at Luna, who had gone back to sleep, safe in the warmth the mark generated.
“What have we done, little one?” I whispered.
But deep down, I knew we had started a war, and the king was coming.
The journey north was a surreal experience, suspended between terror and luxury.
Philillip, terrified at the prospect of King Dante’s fury, spared no expense.
I was installed in an armored carriage lined with bare furs so thick I sank into them.
There were magical heaters under the seats, hot food in silver containers, and fresh milk for Luna at every stop.
But despite the comfort, I couldn’t relax.
[clears throat] With every jolt of the road, my arms tightened around the baby, my heart racing.
I knew what awaited us at the end of the road.
the wolf of the north.
The man they said had decimated entire armies with his bare hands, and I was carrying his heart.
Luna slept most of the time, as if recovering strength from her near death in the forest.
When she woke, her golden eyes followed me with disconcerting intelligence.
She didn’t cry, she observed.
Sometimes she reached out to touch the mark on my wrist.
And when she did, the throbbing pain turned into a soft warmth, almost like a purr.
“You know,” I whispered to her in the darkness of the carriage, “you know we are going to him.
” The journey lasted 2 days.
Two days of relentless snow beating against the reinforced windows.
Two days watching the landscape change from dense forests to mountains of pure ice.
sharp peaks tearing at the gray sky.
When we finally arrived, the ice castle looked like a mirage born from a nightmare.
It was immense, built of black volcanic stone that contrasted violently with the eternal snow around it.
Pointed towers rose like giant fangs.
Walls so high that the top was lost in the mist.
But what struck me most was the silence.
There was no bustle of an active court.
There was a heavy, mournful silence.
Black and gold flags hung motionless, frozen at half mast.
It was a mausoleum for a queen and a princess everyone thought were dead.
The carriage stopped in the main courtyard.
The sound of the wheels on the ice was the only noise.
I looked out the window.
Hundreds of guards were lined up, motionless as statues, their black armor gleaming under the weak torch light.
And at the top of the main staircase, he waited.
King Dante Fletcher.
He wore no crown.
He didn’t need one.
Authority emanated from him like heat waves.
He was tall, broad, dressed in black furs and battle leather.
His face was hard, marked by scars and sleeplessness with stubble that obscured his jawline.
But it was the eyes that held me.
Amber, identical to Luna’s, burning with a mixture of desperate hope and murderous fury.
The carriage door was opened by a trembling guard.
The frozen north air hit me, but the mark on my wrist pulsed warm, protecting me.
I took a deep breath, adjusted Luna in my arms, and stepped down.
The moment my feet touched the stone ground, Dante moved.
It wasn’t a walk.
It was a charge.
He descended the stairs like an avalanche.
Too fast, too big.
The guards instinctively backed away.
I wanted to back away, too, but my legs were frozen.
He stopped 3 ft from me.
His scent enveloped me, intense and overwhelming.
Storm, deep forest, blood and steel.
It was the scent of an alpha predator at the height of his power.
He didn’t look at me.
His eyes were fixed on the bundle in my arms.
“Show me,” he growled.
The voice was raw, as if it hadn’t been used for speaking in a long time, only for shouting orders or howling in pain.
With trembling hands, I pulled back the fur blanket covering Luna’s face.
The baby blinked against the torch light.
She saw the gigantic man in front of her and smiled.
Dante let out a sound that wasn’t human.
It was a broken sob coming from the depths of his soul.
He fell to his knees in the dirty snow.
His large, lethal hands reached out, shaking violently.
“Luna,” he whispered.
“My moon, my life.
” He touched her face with one finger.
so gently it seemed impossible coming from a man that size.
Luna grasped his finger.
Dante collapsed.
He rested his forehead on his daughter’s shoulder.
Dry sobs shaking his massive body.
The king was crying and the entire courtyard held its breath, witnessing the breaking and rebuilding of their leader.
I stood there holding his world, feeling his tears wet the baby’s blanket.
I felt a wave of emotion so strong coming from him that it nearly knocked me down.
Relief, love, guilt.
Then he raised his head and looked at me.
For the first time, he truly saw me.
Saw the thin servant in worn clothes holding his air.
His eyes swept over my face, stopped at my violet eyes, moved down to my calloused hands, and stopped at my wrist.
My coat sleeve had risen when I held Luna up for him to see.
The mark was exposed, glowing against the darkness of the courtyard.
The wolf and the crowned moon.
Dante’s eyes widened, his pupils dilated until they swallowed the amber.
He inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, smelling my scent.
Milk, honey, and the magic that bound us.
You, he said.
The word came out like an accusation and a reverence.
He stood up, towering over me.
He grabbed my wrist.
His touch was electric fire, sending shocks up my arm to my heart.
He didn’t squeeze, only held it as if testing the reality of the mark.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice low, vibrating with the power of the alpha command.
“I am Serena,” I whispered, unable to look away.
“Just Serena.
There is no just in this,” he countered, tracing the line of the mark with his thumb.
“Royal magic doesn’t mark strangers.
It marks destiny.
He looked at his guards.
At the court gathered on the stairs, at the world still holding my wrist, still holding his daughter and the woman who saved her.
She comes with me, he announced, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
Prepare the queen’s chambers.
A murmur of shock ran through the crowd.
Your majesty.
An aged counselor stepped forward.
Queen Helena’s chambers are sealed.
No one enters there.
Open them, Dante ordered, cold as the ice around us.
Now, and summon the royal physician.
I want them both examined.
If there is a scratch on them, he left the threat hanging in the air, heavy and real.
And as for the girl, sire, the counselor insisted, looking at me with veiled disdain.
Where should she be lodged? With the servants? Dante snarled.
A low sound that made the horses shy away.
He pulled me closer, putting an arm around my shoulders, wrapping me in his cloak, his scent, his protection.
No one touches her, he said, his eyes sweeping the court like a challenge.
No one looks at her sideways.
No one breathes in her direction without my permission.
She carries my mark.
She saved my daughter.
He looked down at me, a possessive intensity burning in his gaze.
She is mine.
The word hung in the air.
Mine.
It could mean prisoner.
It could mean possession.
It could mean mate.
No one dared ask which.
Dante guided me inside the castle.
I didn’t wait to be led.
I walked beside him, Luna safe in my arms, the mark on my wrist blazing like a torch.
The interior of the castle was as imposing as the exterior.
Vast stone corridors, high ceilings lost in shadow, ancient tapestries depicting battles and coronations.
But it was cold, empty, lifeless.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice echoing in the silent hall.
“Where you will both be safe?” Dante replied without slowing his pace.
“Where I can watch over you.
” We reached a pair of double doors made of white oak guarded by two gigantic soldiers.
Dante nodded and they opened the doors.
The queen’s chambers.
They were magnificent, but sad.
furniture covered in white sheets, dust dancing in the rays of light filtering through the high windows.
The air smelled of dried flowers and stopped time.
Clean this.
Dante ordered the servants who followed us.
Light the fires.
Bring food, clothes, everything.
He walked into the room, leading me to the enormous canopy bed.
Put her here.
I laid Luna down in the center of the soft bed.
She looked tiny in that vast space.
Dante stood looking at her, his face softening, the king mask falling away for a moment to reveal the terrified father.
I thought I had lost her forever, he murmured.
I thought my world had ended.
He turned to me.
We were close.
Too close.
I could feel the heat of his body.
Thank you, he said.
There is no gold in the world that can pay for what you did.
I don’t want gold, I replied.
I just wanted her to live.
He studied me, his amber eyes piercing my defenses.
Why the mark? Why you? I don’t know.
I touched her and it happened.
You are an omega, he said, analyzing.
No family, no clan scent.
How did the royal magic choose you? Perhaps the magic doesn’t care about clans, I suggested.
A sudden boldness taking hold of me.
Perhaps it cares about who was there to hold her when no one else was.
Dante fell silent.
He reached out and touched a strand of my silver hair that had escaped my cap.
Moon hair, he observed.
Amethyst eyes.
You are no ordinary servant, Serena.
We will find out what you are.
A knock interrupted the moment.
The royal physician entered carrying a leather case.
Your majesty, he bowed.
I have come to examine the princess.
And her, Dante pointed to me.
Examine the mark.
Examine her blood.
I want to know everything.
The physician nodded, approaching.
Dante retreated to the wall, arms crossed, watching like a hawk.
He did not leave.
He did not look away.
While the doctor listened to Luna’s heart and then took my wrist to examine the mark, I felt Dante’s eyes on me.
Heavy, intense.
I was in the wolf’s den.
And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like running.
I felt like staying to find out if that fire in his gaze would warm me or burn me alive.
Either way, I was no longer invisible, and that in itself was a revolution.
[clears throat] The first days in the ice castle were a strange mix of fairy tale and luxury prison.
The queen’s chambers were transformed.
Dusty sheets gave way to fresh silk.
The windows were clean to let in the pale northern light, and the fire in the hearth never went out.
I had dresses that didn’t scratch my skin, hot food at any hour, and strangest of all, servants who called me my lady.
But beneath the velvet and courtesy, the tension was palpable.
I couldn’t leave.
Guards were posted at my door day and night.
And Dante, Dante was always there.
He practically moved into the chambers.
There was a connecting door to his room, and he left it open.
At night, I heard him pacing.
The sound of heavy boots on the stone floor, a constant vigil.
During the day, he tried to be a father.
It was painful and endearing to watch.
The warrior who could decapitate an enemy with a single stroke was paralyzed with terror by a dirty diaper.
“She’s going to break,” he whispered one afternoon, holding Luna as if she were blown glass, his massive hands trembling slightly.
“Look at her.
She is so small.
and my hands,” he looked at his own hands, marked by scars and calluses.
“They are made to destroy.
They are made to protect,” I corrected, approaching.
“And she won’t break.
Babies are tougher than they look.
Here, let me show you.
” I guided his hands, positioning them correctly to support Luna’s head.
The contact of my skin with his sent sparks up my arm, the mark on my wrist warming in response.
Dante inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away.
He adjusted his grip, relaxing his tense shoulders.
Luna sighed contentedly and grabbed his finger.
See? I smiled.
She trusts you.
He looked at me, his amber eyes intense and vulnerable.
And you? Do you trust me? The question caught me off guard.
Trust was a luxury I had never had.
I trust that you will protect her with your life.
I answered honestly.
As for me, I’m waiting to see if I’m a guest or a prisoner.
You are.
He started but stopped frustrated.
You are needed and I don’t know how to handle that.
He moved away placing Luna in the crib with exaggerated care.
The physician has your blood test results.
My stomach tightened and and he wants to speak to us now.
Royal physician Dr.
Aris was a small dry man with glasses that magnified his critical eyes.
He entered the room, bowed minimally to Dante, and ignored my presence until forced to speak.
“Your Majesty, the results are conclusive and disturbing.
Speak,” Dante ordered, leaning against the fireplace.
“The girl,” Aerys pointed to me without looking, “is not an ordinary omega.
In fact, genetically, she should not exist.
” “What do you mean? She possesses blood markers from a lineage extinct 200 years ago.
The house of the silver moon.
Dante pushed off the wall.
Silver Moon.
The warrior priests.
The spiritual guardians of the north.
Exactly.
They were known for their affinity with moonlight and abilities of healing and protection.
They were decimated in the great war.
No one was left.
Or so we thought.
Aris finally looked at me with a mix of fear and scientific fascination.
She is a direct descendant.
Pure blood, which explains the mark.
The royal magic recognized the ancient blood.
It recognized an equal.
I was stunned.
I am royalty.
You are a historical ghost, Aerys corrected coldly.
And a dangerous anomaly.
If the other packs know a silver moon lives, there will be war.
Some will want to worship her.
Others dissect her.
No one will dissect her.
Dante growled, his voice vibrating with menace.
She is under my protection.
Protection may not be enough, your majesty.
Her existence challenges the established order.
She is an omega with spiritual alpha blood.
It is a contradiction.
Get out, Dante said.
And if a word of this leaks, doctor, your tongue will be the first thing removed.
Iris pald and hurried out.
We stood in silence.
I looked at my hands, calloused from scrubbing floors.
Hands of a queen.
It seemed like a cruel joke.
Silver moon, Dante murmured, looking at me with new eyes.
That explains the hair, the eyes, the light.
He walked up to me.
You knew? How would I know? I was left in a laundry basket.
I grew up eating scraps.
I felt a surge of anger.
This doesn’t change who I am.
I’m still the girl from the leanto.
It changes everything, he said, taking my chin and lifting my face.
It means you aren’t just a casualty.
You are destiny.
The magic didn’t make a mistake.
He traced my lower lip with his thumb.
You are powerful, Serena.
You just don’t know it yet.
The moment was interrupted by a distant boom, then screams.
The castle, always silent, awoken alarm.
Stay here, Dante ordered, pulling a sword from the wall.
Lock the door.
Don’t open it for anyone unless you hear my voice.
He left.
I locked the door, my heart pounding in my throat.
I ran to Luna’s crib.
She was awake, her golden eyes fixed on the balcony door, the balcony door that I had locked.
The handle turned slowly.
I backed away, picking up an iron poker from the fireplace.
Who’s there? The door exploded inward.
Glass and wood flew.
A figure entered along with the cold wind, dressed in black from head to toe, face covered, only the eyes visible.
Empty, soulless eyes.
A shadow assassin.
He didn’t speak.
He moved like smoke too fast.
He didn’t come for me.
He went for the crib.
“No!” I screamed, fear turning into white fury.
I threw myself between him and Luna.
I swung the poker.
He stopped it with a gloved hand, twisting my wrist.
The pain was blinding.
I dropped the weapon.
He shoved me against the wall, his hand on my neck, squeezing.
My feet left the ground.
Vision darkening.
The air dies.
He hissed, a snake’s voice.
The lineage ends.
He raised a curved dagger, glittering with green poison.
He aimed for Luna, who began to cry.
The sound of her cry tore through my mind.
No, not my little girl.
Not after everything.
Something broke inside me.
A dam I didn’t know existed.
I felt the mark on my wrist burn.
Not with pain, but with power.
I felt the silver moon blood boil.
Get away from her.
I didn’t scream with my voice.
I screamed with light.
A silver explosion erupted from my body.
Pure blinding, solid as a physical wall.
The assassin was thrown backward as if hit by a battering ram.
He slammed into the opposite wall with a sound of breaking bones.
The dagger flew away.
He screamed, covering his eyes, smoke rising from his clothes where the light touched them.
I fell to the floor, panting, the light diminishing to a soft glow around my skin.
The bedroom door was kicked in.
Dante entered, sword drawn, covered in battle blood.
He saw the recovering assassin.
He saw me on the floor glowing.
He saw Luna crying.
He asked no questions.
He became death.
In one fluid motion, he crossed the room and decapitated the assassin.
The head rolled, the body fell.
Dante turned to me, chest heaving, eyes wild.
He dropped the sword and fell to his knees beside me, pulling me into his arms.
“Serena, Serena, are you hurt?” He He was going to take her.
I sobbed, trembling uncontrollably.
I I did something with the light.
I saw the glow from the corridor, he said, squeezing me tight.
You used the magic, the silver moon defense, he looked at the dead body.
They got in here into the heart of my power.
How? Treason, he snarled, the scent of ozone and fury rolling off him.
[clears throat] Someone opened the wards.
Someone from the inside.
He stood up, lifting me with him without letting go.
He went to the crib, picking up Luna with his other arm.
The three of us stood there, embraced in the middle of the destruction.
“Who?” I asked.
“I will find out,” he promised.
And the temperature of the room dropped 10° with the coldness of his voice.
“And when I do, I will make them wish they were never born.
” “He looked at me, touching my face, where the light still pulsed faintly beneath the skin.
You are not just a servant, Serena.
You are a weapon.
And now they know you exist.
The danger hadn’t ended.
It had only begun.
The enemy was inside the walls.
And I had just declared myself their biggest threat.
But looking at Dante, at the protective ferocity in his eyes, I knew one thing.
I would not fight alone.
And whoever came after my daughter would have to go through an alpha king and an awakened silver queen.
And good luck to them.
The days following the attack transformed the castle into a besieged fortress.
Dante doubled the personal guard, tripled the patrols, and personally interrogated every servant, guard, and noble who had access to the east wing.
It turned out that one of the new maids, a timid girl, had been bribed to deactivate the protection rune on the balcony.
She was found dead in the sewers before she could speak, throat slit.
A clean job, professional.
The enemy was cleaning up their tracks, but the stench of treason permeated every stone of the castle.
I didn’t sleep.
I couldn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the dagger descending toward Luna.
But on the third night, exhaustion won.
I fell into a deep, feverish sleep.
And with it came the dreams.
They weren’t ordinary nightmares.
They were visions, sharp, colored with scent and sound.
I was flying, a bodyless spirit, over a forest of dead pines.
I descended toward a cave on the slope of a skull-shaped mountain, I entered.
The smell of sulfur and old blood sickened me.
Inside, illuminated by torches of green flame.
She was there.
Alphodoris.
I knew her only by name and reputation.
the fanatic leader of the pure blood faction who preached that mixing lineages weakened the race.
She was tall, severe, with gray hair cut short like a steel helmet.
She stood before a stone altar on it a map of the ice castle and wax dolls.
One represented Dante, another Luna, and a third me.
She took a dagger and plunged it into the doll representing me.
The impure servant will bleed on the new moon, she said to the hooded figures around her.
The silver moon blood will open the shadow portal, and with the power of the corrupted ancestors, we will take the throne.
I woke up screaming, sitting up in bed, cold sweat running down my back.
The mark on my wrist burned as if it had been branded again.
Dante was there in a second, emerging from the shadows where he watched.
“What is it? Another attack?” No, I gasped, grabbing his arm.
I saw I saw Doris.
I know where she is.
I told him everything.
The cave of lamentations, the ritual, the new moon, which was in two days.
Dante listened in silence, his expression hardening with every word.
The cave of lamentations, he said, his voice grim.
It’s 10 mi north in neutral territory, a cursed place.
He stood up, pacing, nervous energy radiating from him.
If she’s there, we attack.
I’ll take the elite legion and bury her in that mountain.
[clears throat] No, I said, the certainty of the vision guiding my words.
They expect a frontal attack.
I saw the traps at the entrance.
Magical explosives.
If you march in, you will kill your men and warn her we are coming.
She will escape through the back tunnels.
Then what do you suggest? that I knock on the door and ask politely.
No, we give her what she wants.
He stopped, looked at me.
You, she wants my blood for the ritual.
She needs me alive until the right moment.
She thinks I’m just a lucky servant.
She doesn’t know I’ve awakened.
I stood up, walking toward him.
We give her bait.
You are not going to be bait.
Dante snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously.
Over my dead body.
I have no choice, Dante.
If we don’t go to her on our terms, she will keep sending assassins, and one day, one of them will be lucky, or we’ll use magic we can’t block.
Luna isn’t safe while Doris lives.
He clenched his fists, fighting the cold logic of my words.
It’s too dangerous.
It’s the only chance to catch her off guard.
The plan is simple.
We announce an outing.
The king’s favorite and the princess will go to the Moon Temple to give thanks for the healing.
a known route.
Security seemingly light, seemingly, he repeated, skeptical.
My best men disguised as servants, and I disguised as the coachmen.
Exactly.
When they attack to take me, we’ll be ready, but not on the road.
We let them capture me.
Take me to the cave.
You want to walk into the enemy’s lair alone? I won’t be alone.
I’ll have you tracking me by the mark.
I raised my wrist.
And I’ll have the light.
She doesn’t know I can use it.
She expects a helpless victim.
She will get a warrior.
Dante looked at me.
Fear, respect, and protective fury wrestled on his face.
He touched my face, his thumb tracing my cheek.
If they hurt you, if they touch a single strand of your hair.
They won’t, I promised with a confidence I didn’t entirely feel.
Because you’ll be right there.
The day of the trap dawned gray and cold.
They dressed me in white furs and silks, concealing light chain mail, and a silver dagger in my boot.
Luna stayed in the castle, in the safest subterranean vault, protected by a battalion.
In the basket I carried, there was a doll enchanted by a court witch to have the princess’s weight and scent.
Dante helped me into the carriage.
He was unrecognizable under a heavy cloak and a hat that covered his face, but I knew those hands.
He squeezed mine before closing the door.
I will be in your shadow always.
The journey was a slow torture.
Every tree shadow seemed like an archer.
Every sound of the wind seemed like an attack cry.
And then in the snow valley it happened.
Explosions shook the road.
Trees fell blocking the way.
Cries of for the pure blood filled the air.
The carriage overturned.
I was thrown against the wall, stunned.
Rough hands ripped me from the wreckage.
I was dragged into the snow.
“We got her!” someone shouted.
I saw Doris.
She was mounted on a giant gray wolf, looking at me with sadistic triumph.
And the child, a minion, brought the basket from the wreckage.
“Here, Alpha.
Take them both,” she ordered.
quickly before the king sends reinforcements.
I was tied up, thrown over a horse’s saddle, fingy estar in concent, but kept my mind focused on the mark, sending a constant silent beacon to Dante.
I’m here.
I’m going.
Follow me.
The ride was short and brutal.
I was dragged inside the cave.
The smell of sulfur was suffocating.
They took the sack off my head.
Doris stood before the green bonfire, smiling.
the little servant who wanted to be queen.
She sneered, caressing the blade of a ceremonial sword.
You will serve a greater purpose today.
Your blood will open the way for the true order.
She gestured toward the basket.
Bring the bastard.
The minion opened the basket and screamed as the doll dissolved into a cloud of black crows that flew cawing through the cave.
Doris roared in rage.
A trick.
Where is the real one? I stood up, the ropes binding my hands falling away.
I had cut them with a shard of glass I hid in my sleeve.
I dropped the fur cloak, revealing the armor and the fighting stance that Dante had obsessively taught me over the last two days.
Safe, I said, my voice echoing off the stone walls.
Away from traitors like you.
Doris laughed, a dry, humorless sound.
It doesn’t matter.
The child was a bonus.
Your blood is the key.
She pointed the sword at me.
Kill her, but save the blood.
Five guards advanced.
Now, I screamed mentally.
The entrance to the cave exploded into fragments.
Dante entered, not as a man, as a wolf.
A black furred monster the size of an bear, eyes of liquid fire.
And behind him, the elite of the royal guard.
Chaos erupted.
Swords against claws.
Dante ripped the first guard in two before he could scream.
I kicked the second one’s knee, using the dagger from my boot to slice his tendon.
Doris retreated to the altar, pulling a lever on the wall.
An iron great fell, separating me from Dante and his men.
I was trapped inside with her and her personal elite guard.
You think you’ve won? She hissed at Dante through the bars.
You’ll just watch her die.
Dante threw himself against the iron, snarling, sparks flying.
But the great was reinforced with magic.
He couldn’t get through.
Doris turned to me.
Just the two of us now, little girl.
She was a trained alpha.
I was a servant with two days of training.
The odds were impossible.
But she hadn’t counted on one thing.
She was fighting a girl.
I was fighting like a mother.
I closed my eyes for a second, searching for the light inside me.
The mark on my wrist burned so hot that the sleeve of my dress started to smoke.
When I opened my eyes, the entire cave turned silver.
It wasn’t daylight.
It was moonlight.
Pure, cold, absolute.
It exploded from me in concentric waves.
The guards were thrown back, blinded, dropping their weapons.
Doris shielded her eyes, backing away.
What is this? The judgment, I said.
My voice echoed.
Multiple.
I advanced.
I was no longer walking.
I floated in the light.
Doris tried to strike me, but her sword melted upon touching my aura.
she screamed, dropping the incandescent hilt.
She ran to the back of the cave to the shadows where she kept her secrets.
“Bring them,” she screamed, her voice hysterical.
From hidden niches in the wall, doors opened and my heart stopped.
Children, 10, maybe 12, small children from the pack who had disappeared in recent weeks, dirty, crying, tied to each other.
Doris grabbed a boy by the hair, dragging him forward.
a new dagger in her hand.
“Stop!” she screamed.
“One step further and I cut his throat.
” The light around me wavered.
The power retreated before the fear for the children.
Dante stopped pounding the great, frozen by horror.
Coward, I whispered.
“Victor,” she corrected, panting.
“Open the great, Alpha.
Surrender or the future of your pack dies here.
” Dante looked at me, looked at the children.
I saw the defeat in his eyes.
He would do it.
He would surrender to save them.
He would die.
And then she would kill us all anyway.
No, I wouldn’t allow it.
Dante, don’t.
I shouted.
Stay where you are.
Serena, he pleaded, his voice broken.
I turned to Doris.
You want to trade me for the children.
Your life is not worth 12.
She sneered.
My life is that of a silver moon queen, I said, raising my chin.
My blood is worth an army.
You know it.
That’s why you want me.
Her eyes gleamed with greed.
True.
Untie them, and I surrender.
No fight, no light.
Serena, don’t do this.
Dante roared, striking the great again.
Trust me, I whispered mentally to him through our bond.
Doris shoved the boy away.
Come, [clears throat] kneel.
I walked toward her.
The silver light faded.
It was just me, small, hurt, human.
I knelt before the altar.
Doris smiled, raising the dagger.
Finally, the end of impurity.
She brought her arm down, and I transformed, not into a wolf of flesh and blood, but into spirit.
In the final second, my physical body dissolved into silver mist.
Doris’s dagger sliced through the empty air, clanging against the stone.
And then the mist solidified.
Behind her, a giant wolf made of starlight.
Translucent, ethereal, but with teeth that could bite the soul.
I bit, not her flesh.
Her magic.
My light teeth sank into Doris’s shoulder, where the dark magic she used was anchored.
I sucked the corrupted power out, burning it with my own purity.
Doris screamed, not from physical pain, but from loss.
She aged before our eyes.
The stolen strength abandoned her.
Her hair turned white and sparse.
Her skin wrinkled.
She fell to the floor, a fragile, empty old woman.
The iron great, sustained by her magic, crumbled into rust.
Dante entered.
He didn’t go to Doris.
He went to the children.
With a gentleness that belied his monstrous size, he cut their ropes, freeing them.
I returned to human form, falling to my knees, exhausted.
The spiritual transformation had drained everything I had.
Doris tried to crawl away.
Winter always returns, she mumbled.
Delirious.
Dante stopped in front of her.
He shifted back to human form, naked from the waist up, covered in sweat and blood.
He looked at her without hatred, only pity.
And spring always wins, he said.
Take her.
Public trial.
The guards took her away.
Dante turned to me.
He walked slowly as if afraid I would disappear.
He knelt, taking my face in his trembling hands.
You, he started, but his voice failed.
You are insane.
I am a mother.
I smiled weakly.
It amounts to the same thing.
He laughed, a sobbing sound, and kissed me.
It was a kiss of blood and tears and triumph.
The children surrounded us crying, hugging Dante’s legs, touching my dress.
We were alive.
“Let’s go home,” Dante said, lifting me into his arms.
“Our daughter is waiting.
” We walked out of the cave into the daylight.
The sun reflected off the snow, blinding and beautiful.
And for the first time, the north did not feel cold.
It felt like a beginning.
The return home was a procession of triumph.
There were no organized bands or parades, but the news traveled faster than the wind.
In every village we passed, people came out, not to see the feared king, but to see the silver woman, [clears throat] the savior of the children.
They threw winter flowers onto the carriage path.
Mothers held up their babies for me to see.
For the first time in the history of the north, royalty was not feared.
It was loved.
We arrived at the ice castle at nightfall.
Luna was waiting in Philip’s arms, who held her as if she were an atomic bomb about to explode.
When she saw me descend from the carriage, the baby nearly jumped out of his grasp.
“Mama,” she cried, the word clear and perfect in the chilled air.
I took her, spinning her in the air, laughing as she buried her face in my neck.
Her scent, milk, and magic, healed the last aches in my body.
Dante watched, leaning against the carriage, a tired but genuine smile on his lips.
He didn’t need to say anything.
His look said it all.
My home.
The coronation took place 3 days later.
Not in the dark hall of the ancestors, but in the winter gardens under the open sky in the full moon.
There was no ceiling between us and the goddess who blessed us.
The entire pack was there.
Nobles beside servants, warriors beside farmers.
The children I saved formed the honor guard, dressed in white and silver.
I wore a dress that looked like it was made of liquid moonlight, woven by the kingdom’s finest seamstresses.
My hair was loose, a silver cascade that shone under the torches.
But it wasn’t the clothes that mattered.
It was Dante’s hand holding mine, firm, warm, eternal.
The high priest, an old man who wept when he saw the mark on my wrist on the first night, raised the crown.
It wasn’t the heavy iron crown of the ancient kings, made to intimidate.
It was a delicate tiara of silver and crystal forged with magic to be light yet unbreakable.
“Serena of the silver moon,” he ined, his voice echoing in the reverent silence.
“Magic chose you.
The king chose you.
The people chose you.
” He looked at the children, at the servants, at the warriors who bowed their heads.
Not by blood, but by spirit.
Not by strength, but by love.
He placed the crown on my head.
I felt a weight, yes, but not of burden.
Of responsibility, of belonging.
I crown you, Queen Serena, mother of all, guardian of the light.
Dante stepped forward.
He did not bow.
He looked me in the eye.
equal to equal.
My partner, he whispered loud enough only for the two of us.
My salvation, he kissed me, and the crowd erupted in howls of joy that shook the snow from the trees.
Years passed.
Winter still came to the north, fierce and beautiful, but we were no longer its prisoners.
The castle was full of life.
Luna, now five, ran through the gardens, her dark hair flying, leading a gang of children in games of Wolf of Light.
She had inherited her father’s strength and her mother’s magic, a combination that terrified her tutors and enchanted the kingdom.
And she wasn’t alone.
Her twin brothers, two noisy boys with my violet eyes, followed her everywhere.
Dante and I watched them from our bedroom balcony.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his strong embrace keeping me warm against the night wind.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of the heart that now beat for me.
“You’re thinking about that day,” he said, reading my mind as he always did.
“I’m thinking about how I got here,” I replied, looking at the castle lights.
“From a cold, dirty leanto to this.
” “Destiny is a strange weaver,” he murmured, kissing my neck.
It had to break my world so you could rebuild it better.
I looked at my wrist.
The mark was still there.
It no longer burned with the urgency of danger.
It only glowed softly, a steady golden pulse, a reminder that I would never be alone again.
They said the cold killed the flowers.
That winter was the end.
But I had discovered the truth.
Beneath the snow, the strongest roots wait.
The cold tried to take the king’s daughter, but it found the fire of a mother who refused to let her go.
And together, with the love of a wolf who learned to be a man again, we brought the spring.
Not the season that comes and goes, but the spring of the soul, the one that lasts forever.
Let’s go inside, Dante said, squeezing my arm.
The children need to sleep, and I need my queen.
I smiled, turning to him.
To my love, my king, my destiny, your queen is ready.
We walked in together, shutting the door against the cold, leaving only the warmth of our home.
And in the silence of the night, the moon smiled.
Thank you for being here and for joining me for another story.
I truly hope you enjoyed it.
If you want, leave your comment.
I love reading what you feel and think after each episode.
Thank you for the love and see you in the next story.
