The clang of steel against steel rang like thunder across the battlefield, echoing beneath the violet twilight sky.
War cries rippled through the air, sharp and savage, as faeries and warriors cloaked in gleaming silver and cobalt armor clashed with the primal force of the werewolves—taller, broader, snarling, shifting between beasts and man.
Blades flashed. Arrows danced like fireflies. And the earth trembled with rage of ancient magic.
In the heart of it all, stood Alpha Don Ryker, his massive form soaked in blood and fury, golden eyes burning with defiance.
He is the Alpha of Dawn-shadow pack, he has led his warriors, through countless battles, but this one held more weight. This war was personal.
As Don drove his blade into a faerie soldiers chest a cry broke out through the cacophony—not one of war but one of life.
From the edge of the battlefield, within the protective circles of enchanted tents. A scream of labor pierced the air. A woman's voice. Raw and painful.
——————
Inside the largest tents, lit by warm lights and scent of herbs, Princess Emerald, heir of Faerie kingdom, lay writhing in agony. Sweat beaded her fair skin as midwives rushed around her, their hands slick with blood and magic.
Her long glowing green hair stuck to her temples. Her cries of pain matched the rhythm
of the battle outside.
"She's crowning." One of the midwives shouted.
The Princess gritted her teeth, every contraction was war within herself. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, her eyes. The vibrant green of the forest in spring flickered upward.
"Don." She whispered "Come back to me."
——————
Outside, Don Ryker faced one of his greatest challenges yet.
Across from him, hovering inches above the ground was General Steven. Tall, sharp featured, his armor infused with obsidian and star-fire, his hands glowing with pure fae magic.
"You stole what was never yours. Mutt." Steven spat. "The Princess. The child. Was meant for me."
Don growled, lowering his stance. "She chose her fate. Your just butter it wasn't you."
With a roar, Steven release a torrent of searing white lightening, magic that twisted through the air like a serpent.
Don leapt aside, the blast glazing his shoulder, searing through fur and flesh. He gritted his teeth through the pain. Rushing forward with terrifying speed, claws clashing, blade flashing.
Steven met him midair, a burst of energy flaring between them. They clashed to the ground with a thunderclap, Dons blade sparking over Steven's enchanted shield.
The General drew his own sword etched with ancient runes, and the two clashed in a blur of motion.
Steel met magic.
Brute force met arcane precision.
And neither have ground.
——————
Back in the tent, a final cry of pain shattered the silence.
Then—the unmistakable wail of a new born.
The midwives gasped as the newborn emerged. She was beautiful, even in her first breaths— Raven black hair, soft fair skin, full pouty lips that trembled as she cried out to the world.
Princess Emerald sobbed reaching out weakly. "My daughter…. My little light."
As the midwives cleaned the baby, Emerald placed a trembling hand on the baby's chest. She whispered an ancient incantation in fae tongue, glowing green energy spiraling from her palm into the child's body.
A protective blessing—her first and final gift.
She handed the baby to her trusted servant. A cloaked faerie woman with sharp eyes and a heart loyal beyond blood. Emerald said through tears
"Hide her. Protect her. The war will not end tonight."
The servant bowed, wrapped the infant tightly, vanishing into the shadows of the forest, just as the camp exploded in fire and screams.
——————
Through the forest, the servant ran, branches clawing at her cloak. Behind her the sound of the chaos followed her like a curse.
In her arms, the baby cried with such force that the very trees seemed to shiver, their leaves trembling in response.
Deep in the woods, she met her ally—a rogue wolf, scarred and silent, with eyes that glowed like dying embers. Years ago he had saved her life. Tonight she repays him with trust.
"Take her." The faerie said breathlessly " Take her fat beyond Reginald's reach. Beyond the packs. Let her live."
The rogue hesitated for only a moment before taking the child. Without a word her ran with the child faster than the wind itself, cradling the little one against his chest as her cries echoed through the dark woods.
——————
At the edge of the realm, the rogue breached the territory of the Supreme Alpha King. The most Feared werewolf in the Northern realms. Alarms blared. Horns sounded.
But the rogue didn't stop.
He reached the hum eye cottage near the palace gates, where an old maid, wise and weathered answered his frantic knock.
She opened the door.
Without a word he placed the child into her arms, then handed her a small green glowing vial, that the servant gave him.
"She must never be found" he growled " This will hide her true blood."
The maid, sensing the urgency and the weight of fate, uncorked the vial and poured the glowing contents over the child's head.
The green liquid hissed as it touched her skin. The infant shrieked and her form began to change.
Her Raven black hair, lightened into a shimmering gold, her full lips curled and reformed into a soft Cupid bow. Her skin remained fair, but now on her left wrist, a mark appeared. The intricate outline of a rose, tightly closed yet full of promise.
A symbol of what she was.
And what she would become.
As the maid carried the transformed child, the rogue disappeared into the night. Just as the Supreme Alpha's guards descended.
And in that silence that followed—a new destiny began, hidden by magic, forged in war and whispered by the trees.
The child of wolf and fae that would one day awaken.
The First Hybrid.
The rose would soon bloom.