The Fae Wolf
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Delta Winters
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563K
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43
Prophecy
ADALRIC
This is a tale of old and new, and everything in between...
Once upon a time, there was a ruthless king who ravaged villages as easily as he consumed meals.
His reign was so absolute and corrupt, no other force could hope to challenge him.
His castle walls were so high, no one could climb them, much like the icy walls around his heart.
Some called him a demon. Others revered him as a god. His name was known by few, and spoken by even fewer. Most knew him as the Alpha King.
To face his wrath was said to be worse than suffering a thousand deaths. And his wrath was easily ignited.
Deep within his castle, his enemies bled, tormented by the heat and haunted by the souls that lingered.
Day and night, they pulled at their chains, hoping for freedom from their eternal punishment. But mercy was not granted.
“Mercy…” the prisoners’ gravelly whispers echoed, a desperate prayer to their Alpha King, the god they regretted defying.
Their king was a man unlike any other. And hardly a man at all.
Rumors spread like wildfire across the lands; few secrets remained. But the truth about the king—there were many versions, none of them accurate.
The castle housed a legion of warrior wolves, brutal and formidable, numbering over a thousand. And that was just the royal battalion.
They raided villages for sport, between their missions and excursions. They took women as they pleased, ignoring the screams of mothers as they violated their daughters.
They were monsters.
But they paled in comparison to the monstrosity the king was rumored to be. He didn’t engage in such acts; he was more indifferent, detached from his people.
He was a different kind of monster.
The legends of the immortal Alpha King were known far and wide.
Some speculated he was part werewolf, part unknown. And that he had been fed a sliver of silver every day, building an immunity to the one thing that could kill him, as it did most werewolves.
His immortality only grew stronger as he was relentlessly trained by the silent monks who lived in the hollow caves of Castriel.
By the time he ascended the throne, no one dared challenge his rule. And it stayed that way for centuries.
His throne was forged by the greatest blacksmiths, using the rarest metals in the world to support the mighty king’s backside.
Aside from the throne and a matching crown, the throne room was bare, stark, intimidating.
No flowers bloomed behind the castle walls, no nature thrived. They had withered and decayed long ago, before the castle was consumed by strength, power, and darkness.
In the sacred grounds of Hallerian, where the high priests chanted their curses and sang songs of the darkest nights, a new prophecy was revealed.
A prophecy rooted in the very core of the earth, woven into the fabric of time, and destined since the world began.
Adalric Ethalowae, leader of the order, set out with his most trusted to inform the king.
Their loyalty lay wherever the balance of power tipped. An alliance with the Alpha King allowed them the greatest freedom.
After a few days’ journey, they requested an audience with the king, despite their apprehension.
The high priests were among the most powerful beings on earth, yet this Alpha King had them trembling in fear.
Adalric had met the king several times, but the king’s piercing gaze could still unnerve him.
The group waited for the king in the grand throne room, left to the whispers that echoed through the hall.
The domed ceiling seemed to capture the room’s secrets. The atmosphere was unsettling.
Adalric knew this was a tactic of the Alpha King to assert his dominance, even though he didn’t need to. The hall alone could shake any mortal soul.
“Kneel for your king!” a man’s voice echoed, filling every corner of the room.
A horde of werewolves marched in, surrounding the high priests and forming a barrier between them and the king.
Then the king himself entered. Everything stilled. His dominance filled the air, forcing everyone to bow.
He sat upon his throne, superior to all before him.
No one dared meet his gaze. They simply bowed their heads in submission.
“What brings the high priests of Hallerian to my court?” the king’s voice boomed, irritation clear in his tone.
“Your grace,” Adalric began, stepping forward.
“We bring a new prophecy. It has been written in the stars since the dawn of time and has only now been revealed to us.”
“Then, tell me. What does this prophecy predict that is worth my time?” The king didn’t seem convinced, which unsettled the high priest.
“It is a prophecy about you and your mate, your grace,” the high priest announced. The king’s expression turned to one of displeasure.
A mate could either strengthen him or weaken him. A king of his stature needed neither. He didn’t need a mate.
“What of this mate you speak of?” he demanded.
“Your majesty, the visions were unclear. But there is a girl—your mate. You and she are destined for a powerful fate. There are two paths.
“One of greatness for the kingdom. The other of immense evil and darkness.”
“What does this mean, high priest?” the king pressed, rising from his throne and glaring down at the man before him.
His irritation was clear, as was the swell of pride at the prospect of a powerful fate.
But a fate with a mate.
Meanwhile, in a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom, lived a girl.
Aurelia.
Her hair was golden, like her name suggested. Her eyes were a vibrant blue, full of curiosity and youth. Her skin was lightly tanned, but as pure as fresh snow.
She was truly ethereal. And with her beauty came her strange power.
She was an outcast in the village. Not since the incident. An incident that terrified many and led them to either shun her or avoid her altogether.
Aurelia had always wished she could be just a regular werewolf, content with a simple life in their small village. But she wasn’t regular. She didn’t fit in there.
Her mother had died giving birth to her, and that had always made her sister resent her. It was just the two of them.
One was treated like a lowly omega, while the other was treated like a lady, always expecting to be catered to.
Olympia was content. She wasn’t an outsider; she was accepted. She had her place in their small world and it suited her just fine. Aurelia couldn’t understand how they could be so different.
Aurelia wanted more than the village, to find her place somewhere else, but she hadn’t yet. Nothing was stopping her. Her power was all she needed.
But it wasn’t just others who were scared of her power. It scared her too.
She hadn’t really understood it when it first appeared when she was five.
She’d always had it, but it hadn’t shown itself until it started to get out of control. She tried to rein it in, but it was a power that had a mind of its own.
There was a darkness to it. The more she used it, the stronger and more unpredictable it became. Soon, it was using her instead of the other way around.
So, she kept it locked away, unsure of its purpose in her life.
The temptation was always there. It could protect her from the constant harassment she faced. It could restore the dignity her sister had stripped away.
It could be her shield against everything that threatened her.
And it was always calling to her. That’s exactly why she didn’t use it.
Evil was addictive. Giving in was the first step into a hellish world.
“Where’s your little sister?” a male voice asked—one Aurelia recognized.
She knew better than to interrupt. The bond between mates pushed everyone else to the side. She’d learned that the hard way a few moons ago when she’d gotten a beating for it.
So she stood there, waiting, listening.
“She’s out getting water, Lochlan. I wish I could just get rid of her,” Olympia answered with a heavy sigh.
“Then why don’t you?”
“She’s my sister. I can’t just abandon her.”
“You’re too good, my beautiful mate,” he replied. The faint sound of kissing reached Aurelia’s ears. So, she stayed away a little longer, wandering the woods.
Alone, she let the stream wash over her feet, soothing the aches from her hard work. Deep down, she felt a nagging unease that gnawed at her like silver poison.
Maybe it was the power she kept locked away, trying to break free. But she knew it was something else, something darker, something more twisted than she could understand.
She’d felt it all week; it only got stronger with each passing day.
A rustling sound from the other side of the riverbank caught her attention. A beautiful fawn.
Aurelia locked eyes with the fawn, but it didn’t run away like she expected. Instead, it moved closer, as if drawn to her.
She wanted to touch it, but she pulled her hands back and looked away.
She went home without looking back. Magic was frowned upon in their village. And she could definitely sense magic near that stream.
Probably fae woodland, their old home.
As the moon took over the sky and the village grew quiet, Aurelia rested her head on the hay bales. She’d decided a long time ago that they were more comfortable than the hard concrete floor.
Tomorrow, she would turn twenty. Maybe she would find her mate. She prayed to the goddess she wouldn’t, because that would mean she’d be stuck in this small town forever.
So, she planned to leave before that could happen. She would have an adventure, searching for the place she hoped was out there for her.
Sleep took her quickly, the darkness washing over her and pulling her under.
That night, she dreamed of him.
A man so captivating, he must have been a god. A man so domineering, he must have been a demon.
His eyes were a golden color, full of mischief and malice, glowing in the candlelight of his room. A wicked smirk played on his lips, as if he knew she was there.
His shirt was open, showing off his muscular chest and abs. His hair was as black as his devilish features.
Then he took a step. Just one step. And he was right in front of her.
His ruggedly handsome face was so close she could feel his breath. His nose had a slight bump, giving his face a masculine look. Stubble covered his jaw. His eyebrows were furrowed.
“I’m coming for you, little wolf,” he said in a low, cunning voice, his tongue running over his fangs.
One more step.
“See you soon.”
