Albino Omega Listen a Sound and Opened Her Door — And the Alpha King’s Wolves Filled Her Yard

Have you ever heard a sound in the dead of night that forced you out of bed only to find your entire reality shattered?

For Gwendalin, a despised outcast, one knock changed everything. She opened her door to a blizzard, and the Alpha King’s massive wolves flooded her yard.

The winter of 1244 struck the isolated mountain village of Oak Haven with unprecedented ferocity.

Snow drifts piled high against the thatched roofs, and the relentless howling of the wind through the ethalgard mountains sounded like the whales of departed spirits.

On the absolute furthest edge of the settlement, pushed against the dark treeine of the whispering woods, sat a humble, weather-beaten cabin.

This was the home of Gwendalin Hayes.Wendalin Gwendalin was an anomaly, an outcast in a society built upon rigid hierarchies and strict adherence to pack conformity.

In the world of wolves, to be an omega, was to be relegated to the lowest rung of the social ladder, a caregiver, a submissive, someone meant to serve the greater good of the pack without question.

Butwendalin carried a secondary mark that made her an object of deep superstition and fear among the villagers.

She was an albino. Her hair fell in cascades of pure unblenmished white. Her skin was as pale as the snow piling up outside her window, and her eyes held a striking luminous shade of pale violet.

In the medieval minds of the Oak Haven pack, led by the deeply prejudiced Alderman Regis, anything so starkly different was considered an ill omen.

Her father, Arthur Hayes, had been a respected warrior in his time, which was the only reason Gwendalin had not been cast out into the wilderness upon her first transformation.

But Arthur had passed away three winters ago, succumbing to a severe chest fever. Since then, Gwendalyn lived a solitary existence, surviving on the meager rations she could trade for her exceptional skills in herbalism and weaving.

The villagers only approached her door when illness struck, and the local healer’s remedies failed, and even then they took the pisses with averted eyes and whispered prayers to the moon goddess to ward off her supposed curse.

On the night of the winter solstice, the storm outside reached a terrifying crescendo.Wendalyn sat by her stone hearth.

A heavy wool shawl wrapped tightly tightly around her slender shoulders. The fire was dying down to glowing embers casting long dancing shadows across the rough hune wooden walls of her home.

She was attempting to mend a torn tunic by the dim light of a single tallow candle, her nimble fingers working the bone needle through the coarse fabric.

The cold was seeping through the cracks in the mud chinkedked walls, promising a bitter freezing night.

Then she heard it. It was not the wind. It was not the snapping of a frozen branch in the nearby woods.

It was a sound that seemed to vibrate through the very earth beneath her floorboards.

A deep, resonant, rhythmic thud. Thump, thump, thump. It was the sound of heavy armored footfalls marching in absolute unison.

And underneath that heavy rhythm was a low, collective growl that made the hair on Gwendalyn’s arm stand straight up.

Her inner wolf, usually quiet and submissive, winded in sudden, uncharacteristic panic.Wendalyn Gwendalyn froze the needle slipping from her fingers to the floor.

The sound grew louder, closer, echoing ominously through the desolate silence of her isolated property.

Suddenly, a massive shadow fell across the frosted panes of her front window, blocking out the pale moonlight.

Then came a heavy authoritative knock on her thick oak door. The wood groaned under the force of the strike.

For a long moment, Gwendalin could not breathe. Bandits. No bandits did not march with such disciplined precision.

Rogue wolves. Rogues were chaotic wild creatures driven by madness, incapable of this synchronized, terrifying approach.

The knock came again harder this time. Dust fell from the rafters. Swallowing her terror, Gwendalin stood.

She picked up the heavy iron poker from beside the hearth, a pitiful weapon against a fully grown werewolf, but the only defense she possessed.

Her bare feet made no sound against the wooden floorboards as she approached the door, her hand trembled violently as she reached for the heavy iron latch.

She hesitated, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. But in the world of wolves, ignoring a summons at your door was a sign of weakness that often invited violence.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Gwendalin lifted the latch and pulled the heavy oak door inward.

The gust of freezing wind that rushed into the cabin nearly knocked her backward, extinguishing her single candle instantly.

But it was not the cold that made Gwendalin drop the iron poker with a clatter.

It was the sight that greeted her in the darkness. Her front yard, usually an empty expanse of snow leading up to the forest edge, was completely filled.

Hundreds of massive dire wolves, stood shoulderto-shoulder in the blizzard. These were not the common brown and gray wolves of Oakhaven.

These beasts were colossal, their coats, a uniform, intimidating black. Even more shocking, they were outfitted in customforged ironplating chest pieces and spiked collars that gleamed dullly in the moonlight.

And emlazed upon the armor of the largest wolves. Standing at the front was a crest Gwendalin had only ever seen in faded history books a roaring wolf’s head crowned with three jagged peaks.

The royal crest.Wendalyn’s breath hitched in her throat. Her knees threatened to give way. Standing in her humble snow-covered yard were the elite royal guards of the alpha king.

The stories said they only rode out for war or to execute those guilty of the highest treason.

As the massive wolves stared at her with glowing amber eyes, an oppressive silence settled over the yard, broken only by the howling wind and the heavy synchronized breathing of the beasts.

Gwendalin stood paralyzed in her doorway, a solitary white figure against the dark, terrifying might of the royal army.

The sea of monstrous black wolves parted with eerie, disciplined silence. Down the center of the path they created walked a man who seemed to command the very storm around him.

[clears throat] He did not wear the heavy pelts or shivering cloaks common to the mountain folk.

Instead, he was clad in dark tailored leather and chain mail that fit his broad muscular frame perfectly.

A thick furlined cape billowed behind him, untouched by the swirling snow. This was King Kalin Croft.

Gwendalin had heard whispers of the Alpha King from traveling merchants. They spoke of a ruler whose authority was absolute, whose physical strength was unmatched across the five territories, and whose temper was as volatile as a summer thunderstorm.

As he stepped into the light spilling from her doorway, Gwendalin finally saw his face.

He possessed sharp aristocratic features, a strong jaw heavily shadowed with dark stubble, and eyes the color of a tempestuous bruised sky.

His gaze locked onto Gwendalin, and the sheer intensity of his dominant aura forced her to lower her eyes and expose her neck, a purely instinctual omega reaction to a king.Wendalin Hayes.

King Kalin’s voice resonated through the clearing. It was a deep grally baritone that cut effortlessly through the howling wind.

It was not a question. It was a statement of absolute certainty. Before Gwendelyn could force her voice to work, the crunch of hasty footsteps echoed from the path leading back to the village center.

A chaotic jumble of torches pierced the darkness. Alderman Regis, breathless and red-faced, arrived with a dozen village guards trailing nervously behind him.

The local guards looked utterly pathetic next to the imposing royal army. My king, Alderman Regis gasped, dropping to one knee in the snow.

We We did not know you were gracing our humble oak haven with your presence.

Had we known a proper feast would have been prepared. Regis shot a venomous glare toward Gwendalin.

I apologize profoundly that your royal procession had to stop at this this cursed dwelling.

The girl is an omega and an albino anomaly. She is a blight upon our pack.

Please allow us to escort you to the village hall where it is warm and clean.

Gwendalin shrank back against the doorframe, humiliated and terrified. Regis was trying to offer her up to distance the village from her in case the king had come looking for someone to punish.

King Kalin did not even look at the alderman. His storm gray eyes remained fixed on Gwendelyn’s trembling form.

Silence, Regis, Kalin commanded. The words were spoken softly, yet they carried a terrifying weight that made the alderman snap his jaw shut instantly.

Kalin stepped closer to the porch, bridging the gap until he was mere feet from Gwendalyn.

She could feel the immense heat radiating from his large frame, pushing back the winter chill.

I have not come for a feast, Kalin said, his gaze tracing the pure white strands of hair that blew across her pale face.

And I haven’t come to your village hall. I have come exactly where I intended.

Regis, unable to completely stifle his prejudice, spoke up again, his voice trembling. But Sia, she is worthless.

She carries the white curse. If there is treason or deceit you investigate, she is surely to blame.

We can detain her for you. Faster thanwendalin’s eyes could track. King Kalin pivoted. The sudden release of his alpha pherommones was so overpowering that several of the village guards collapsed to their knees in the snow, gasping for air.

Even Raises whimpered, pressing his face into the freezing dirt. You speak of things you do not comprehend.

Alderman Kalin’s voice dropped to a lethal growl. You look at this female and see a curse because your minds are small and trapped in the mud of ancient ignorance.

You see an anomaly. Kalin turned back to Gwendalin, the harshness in his expression softening by a fraction.

I see a lunar guide. Gwendalyn gasped, her violet eyes widening in shock. A what?

She whispered. A lunar guide? Kalin repeated, stepping onto the wooden planks of her porch.

Generations ago before the territories were unified, the royal sears were not chosen. They were born.

They carried the mark of the moon. Goddess hair as white as winter eyes, like the twilight to sky.

They possessed the unique ability to see the true nature of a wolf’s soul, to track the invisible strings of magic that bind our kind to the earth.

The line was thought extinct. Gwendalyn shook her head frantically, pressing her back against the door.

No, my king, you are mistaken. I am just Gwendalin. My father was Arthur Hayes, a simple warrior.

My mother died when I was born. I have no magic. I weave baskets and mix herbs for coughs.

Your father hid you well, Kalin stated, glancing around the dilapidated cabin. He knew that if the rival factions discovered a true Luna guide existed, you would be hunted down and used as a weapon.

He sacrificed his place in the capital to live in this frozen wasteland to keep you safe.

The revelation hit Gwendalin with the force of a physical blow. Her entire life, the isolation, the whispered insults, the deep loneliness had all been a carefully constructed shield forged by her father’s love.

“Why? Why are you here now?” Gwendalin asked, her voice trembling. Kalin’s expression hardened a shadow of profound exhaustion, briefly crossing his regal features.

Because the realm is fracturing, a [clears throat] rogue faction led by a warlord named Gareth has stolen the Sunstone relic from the royal vaults.

Gareth masks his scent and his tracks with dark ancient sorcery. My finest trackers are blind to him.

He was last seen fleeing through the jagged passes of the Ethgard Mountains. Kalin reached out his large, calloused hand, gently hovering near Gwendelyn’s cheek before dropping back to his side.

The Royal Archives speak of one way to pierce Gareth’s magical veil. I need a lunar guide.

I need you, Gwendelyn. Before she could process the magnitude of his request, Kalin turned to face the trembling alderman and the terrified villagers.

“Hear me, Oak Haven!” King Kalin’s voice boomed. “This yard, this cabin is now under the direct protection of the crown.

I am commandeering this territory as my temporary command post. Any wolf who speaks an ill word against Gwendalyn Hayes, any wolf who looks upon her with disrespect will answer directly to my claws.

He turned back to Gwendalin, stepping past her through the doorway and into the freezing, dimly lit cabin.

Close the door, Gwendelyn, the alpha king commanded, softly looking at the dying embers in her hearth.

We have much to discuss and a long hunt ahead of us. Gwendalyn pushed the heavy oak door shut against the howling tempest, the iron latch dropping into place with a definitive clank.

The sudden quiet inside the cabin was startling, broken only by the whistling drafts and the heavy measured breathing of the alpha king.

Kalin Croft seemed to take up the entirety of her small living space. His broad shoulders brushed against the hanging bundles of dried lavender and rosemary, and his commanding presence made the familiar walls feel incredibly small.

He moved toward the hearth, pulling off his thick leather gauntlets. With practiced efficiency, he tossed a few fresh logs onto the dying embers and stoked them until a warm golden fire crackled to life.

Gwendalyn stood near the door, her arms wrapped defensively around her torso. She was still struggling to process the impossible words he had spoken on her porch.

A lunar guide. It sounded like something out of a minstrel’s fireside tale, not a reality for an omega who spent her days mending torn tunics and avoiding the cruel glares of the village women.

“Sit”Wendelin,” Kalin instructed, gently, gesturing to the worn wooden chair beside the fire. “It was not a harsh command, but it carried an undeniable authority.”

She moved cautiously, taking a seat, while Kalin remained standing his back to the flames.

The fire light danced across his rugged features, highlighting a jagged old scar that ran along his jawline, a testament to battles fought to secure his crown.

You must think I am mad or perhaps crually gesting with you.” Kalin began his tempestuous gray eyes softening as he looked down at her.

But I assure you, everything I have said is the absolute truth. Your father Arthur was not merely a warrior.

He was Lord Arthur Pendleton, the commander of the royal vanguard under my father’s reign.

Gwendalyn gasped her hands flying to her mouth. Pendleton. But that is a noble house, a house of the high court.

Why would he abandon such a life to raise me in this frozen squalor? Because of what you are, Kalin answered his voice, dropping an octave carrying a heavy note of sorrow.

When you were born, the royal midwives saw the signs immediately. The pure white hair, the violet eyes.

You were the first lunar guide born in over three centuries. In an era of peace, you would have been revered.

But the realm was deeply unstable. Rival factions greedy for power would have stopped at nothing to claim you.

A lunar guide can see the hidden pathways of the Earth track ancient magic and pierce any veil of deception.

You would have been chained to a warlord’s throne, used as a human compass for conquest.

Tears pricricked the corners of Gwendelyn’s eyes. The father, she remembered, was a quiet, stern man who demanded she hide her hair beneath heavy hoods and keep her eyes downcast.

She had always thought he was ashamed of her. Now she realized every harsh scolding, every forced isolation was an act of profound, desperate love.

He had traded his honor, his wealth, and his comfort to ensure she remained free, even if that freedom meant living as an outcast in Oak Haven.

Gareth Harrington. Kalin continued pacing a few steps across the worn floorboards. He is a warlord from the western reaches.

He has stolen the Sunstone relic and artifact of immense volatile energy. With it, he plans to fracture the unified territories and plunge the realm into endless war.

He employs dark, forgotten sorcery to mask his scent and render his footprints invisible to my finest trackers.

We followed his fading trail to the Athgard Mountains, but the blizzard, coupled with his magic, has blinded us.

If he crosses the jagged peaks and reaches the western strongholds, the realm will fall.

Kalin stopped and knelt before her, bringing himself to her eye level. The proximity was intoxicating.

Gwendalin could smell his scent, a crisp, overwhelming blend of cedarwood, winter frost, and pure alpha dominance.

It made her inner wolf tremble not with fear, but with an ancient instinctual reverence.

I cannot see him, Gwendalyn, Kalin said softly, his gaze locked onto her luminous violet eyes.

But you can. The magic he uses leaves a stain on the natural world, a disruption that only a guide can perceive.

I need you to awaken. I do not know how, she whispered, her voice trembling.

I have never felt any magic within me. I am just empty. You are not empty.

Kalin corrected, reaching out. His large, warm hands gently cuped her pale cheeks. A sudden jolt of electricity sparked where his skin met hers, a startling warmth that chased away the lingering winter chill in her bones.

You have spent your entire life, suppressing your true nature to survive in a pack that despised what they could not understand.

You must let the walls down. Let the Omega submission fade. Feel the pull of the moon.

He closed his eyes, and Gwendalin felt a surge of his alpha energy washing over her, not to dominate, but to shield and support.

He was offering his strength as an anchor. “Close your eyes,”Wendalin,” he murmured. She obeyed.

“Reach past the fear,” he guided her, his thumbs gently stroking her cheekbones. Reach past the years of isolation.

“Find the quiet place in your mind. Listen to the hum of the earth beneath the floorboards.

At first, there was only darkness and the sound of the wind outside. But as Gwendalyn focused on Kalin’s steady heartbeat and the immense warmth radiating from him, something deep within her chest began to stir.

It felt like a dormant ember suddenly catching a draft of oxygen. A strange resonant humming filled her ears, distinct from the howling storm.

Open your eyes. An ancient instinct whispered in her mind.Wendaline Gwendalyn opened her eyes. She gasped, stumbling backward out of the chair, Kalin’s hands falling away.

The world had fundamentally changed. The dim firelit cabin was now overlaid with a breathtaking tapestry of glowing ethereal light.

She could see shimmering silver currents drifting through the air, pulsing in time with the earth.

She looked at Kalin and saw a magnificent blazing aura of gold. And deep azure surrounding him, the physical manifestation of his royal authority and pure unyielding spirit.

And then she looked toward the window. Beyond the frosted glass cutting through the swirling snow and the natural silver currents of the forest was a thick, jagged trail of sickly necrotic green.

It pulsed with a foul, unnatural rhythm, winding its way up the treacherous slopes of the Ethgard mountains.

It was a scar upon the earth, a trail of dark sorcery. “You see it,” Kalin stated, watching the profound change in her expression, the way her violet eyes now glowed with an inner starlight luminescence.

“Yes,”Wendalin breathed awe and terror mixing in her voice. It is a twisted path. It leads up toward the ruins of Dunroin Keep.

Kalin stood his expression hardening into that of a king marching to war. He reached for his heavy leather gauntlets.

Then bundle up my guide. We ride for the peaks. The ascent into the Ethelgard mountains was a grueling test of sheer endurance.

King Kalin shifted into his wolf form. A beast of nightmare proportions. His coat as black as the midnight sky, armored in heavy spiked iron.

He insisted Gwendalyn ride upon his broad back, shielding her from the absolute worst of the freezing wind with his immense body heat.

Behind them marched 200 elite royal guards, moving with disciplined silence through the kneedeep snow.Wendalyn Gwendalyn clung to Kalin’s thick fur, her violet eyes wide open to this newly unveiled reality.

The world was a breathtaking canvas of glowing threads. The sickly green trail of Gareth’s magic was blindingly obvious to her, now a putrid ribbon winding through the treacherous icy crags.

She guided the king with gentle nudges of her knees and whispered directions, steering the massive royal army away from hidden creasses and magically concealed dead ends that Gareth had intentionally laid to trap his pursuers.

As they neared the jagged summit, the crumbling stone towers of Dunroin keep loomed out of the swirling blizzard like the skeletal fingers of a forgotten giant.

The dark green trail thickened considerably, pooling directly around the heavy iron gates of the ruined fortress.

Kalin shifted back to his human form, quickly signaling his commanders to fan out and encircle the icy ruins.

He drew a massive broadsword from his back, the polished steel humming with its own latent energy.

He looked at Gwendalin, who was trembling slightly from the sheer proximity of the corrupted magic.

Stay behind me,” Kalin ordered his voice. A low protective rumble. They breached the courtyard, the royal guards pouring through the crumbling walls like a tide of shadows.

In the absolute center of the ruined keep stood Lord Gareth Harrington. He was a gaunt, menacing figure wrapped in tattered furs, his bony hands clutching a leather satchel that pulsed with a blinding golden light.

The Sunstone relic. Surrounding him were a dozen rogue mercenaries, their eyes clouded with the dark sorcery Gareth was actively using to control their minds.

“King Kalin!” Gareth shouted over the howling wind, a manic grin stretching across his hollowed face.

“I see you finally found a way through the storm. But you are far too late.

The relic is primed. Once I shatter its core, the resulting shockwave will level the capital and leave the unified territories utterly defenseless.

Surrender the stone, Harrington. Kalin roared, his heavy sword raised high. Your madness ends tonight in this frozen wasteland.

W Gareth laughed, a harsh grating sound that chilled the air further. Madness? Oh, my king, you know absolutely nothing of deceit.

How do you think I knew your exact patrol routes? How do you think I knew you were wasting your time searching the lands while I slipped into the mountains?

Gareth pointed a long bony finger directly at Gwendalin. I had eyes inside Oak Haven, your precious, supposedly loyal alderman, Regis.

For a few bags of silver and the promise of a seat on my new high council.

He gladly detailed your every movement. He even offered to drown the albino anomaly in the river if she proved to be a nuisance, completely unaware of what she truly was.

Gwendalin felt a cold sickness pool in her stomach. The alderman’s cruelty was not just born of prejudice.

It was calculated malice. He had sold out his king and his own pack. “Regis will face the executioner’s block.”

Kalin snarled, his eyes flashing with lethal fury. “And you will not leave this courtyard.”

Gareth raised his hands, and the dark necrotic magic flared. The corrupted rogues surged forward with unnatural speed, clashing violently with the royal guard.

The sound of ringing steel and heavy bonejarring impacts echoed off the ancient stone walls.

Gareth began to chant, his hands glowing with foul energy as he reached for the clasp of the satchel holding the sunstone.

He is trying to crack the relic’s seal.Wendalin shouted over the chaos. Her lunar guide vision showed her the intricate dark locks.

Gareth was weaving around the pure gold energy of the stone. Kalin could not reach him in time, bogged down by three massive rogue wolves.Wendalyn Gwendalyn realized she lacked physical strength, but as she stared at the dark magic swirling around Gareth, she saw the threads.

What could be woven could be unraveled. Running purely on ancient instincts, Gwendalin stepped out from behind the guards.

She raised her hands toward Gareth, her violet eyes flaring with blinding intensity. She focused on the sickly green threads of his spell, imagining her own energy, pure and silver, reaching out like celestial shears.

“Snap!” She severed the central thread of his incantation. A resounding ethereal crack echoed through the courtyard.

Gareth’s chanting choked off. The dark magic shattered like fragile glass, dissolving into harmless black smoke.

The sudden backlash threw Gareth backward, slamming him brutally into the stone wall. The satchel tumbled from his grasp.

The rogues freed from mind control faltered and were quickly subdued. Kalin crossed the courtyard, pinning Gareth’s chest to the ground with his heavy boot, his broad sword resting against the warlord’s throat.

The battle was over. The king secured the sunstone, handed it to his commander, and ordered Gareth bound in iron chains.

Then he gathered the exhausted, magnificent Gwendalin, gently into his massive arms. 2 days later, the winter sun broke through the clouds, casting a brilliant light over Oak Haven.

The royal army stood in disciplined ranks in the village square. In the center, Alderman Regis knelt in the mud, weeping as guards stripped him of his title.

His deceit had been laid bare, his fate sealed. The villagers watched in stunned silence, their gaze fixed on the village hall steps.

King Kalin Croft stood tall. Beside him was Gwendalin, wearing a stunning midnight blue velvet gown that contrasted perfectly with her pure white hair.

She looked every inch a noble sovereign. For years you looked upon this woman and saw a curse.

Kalin’s voice echoed. Butwendalin Hayes is the savior of the realm. She is the last lunar guide.

In front of the entire village, the alpha king dropped to one knee. The collective gasp was deafening.

He took her small hand. Gwendalin, you guided me through the darkest storm. Now I ask you to guide me through the rest of my life.

Return with me to the capital as my queen.Wendalin looked at the villagers who had scorned her now bowing in deep reverence.

She squeezed Kalin’s hand, a radiant smile breaking across her face. “I will,” she whispered.

As the alpha king pulled his fated mate into a passionate embrace, the massive black wolves of the royal guard let out a synchronized, thunderous howl, welcoming their new queen.

DidWendalyn’s journey from a despised outcast to a powerful queen leave you breathless? The world of the Alpha King is filled with even more secrets.