The Fortress of Wolves
The fortress rose from the mountains like a crown carved of stone and iron. Its towers weren't graceful like those of fairy tales they were jagged, black, and merciless, spearing into the heavens as though daring the moon itself to look away. The walls bled shadow under the Bloodmoon's glow, and their sheer size made my chest tighten with dread.
I had heard whispers of this place all my life legends told in hushed voices around fires, warnings meant to frighten pups into obedience. Obey your Alpha, or the Lycan King will take you to his fortress of bones.
None of those stories had come close to the truth.
The Lycan King's stronghold wasn't a castle. It was a warning.
Ciaran carried me through its gates as though I were no heavier than a child. My palms pressed against his chest in useless defiance, my nails digging into leather and steel. I twisted, shoved, cursed under my breath, but he didn't falter. His stride was steady as the drumbeat of war, a rhythm that made me feel small, insignificant, and utterly trapped.
The great gates groaned open, and shadows stirred on the other side. Wolves dozens of them stood in rigid formation. Some were in their human skin, clothed in dark leathers that clung to muscles carved for battle, while others prowled on four legs, hackles bristling, eyes glowing gold, amber, and red in the torchlight.
The moment they saw him, they bowed.
Every head bent low, every spine curved in reverence. Even the wolves on four paws dropped into a crouch, muzzles pressed flat to the stone. The sound of it rippled like a wave across the courtyard, a single motion, a single exhale, as if the fortress itself held its breath for him.
But their eyes weren't only on him.
They were on me.
I felt it immediately the crawling weight of their stares, curious and hungry, judgmental and cruel. Some looked at me with contempt, others with barely restrained interest, and a few with open disgust. Whispers hissed through the crowd, carried on the night wind.
Half-blood. Mistake. Prey.
My face burned. I twisted harder against his hold, desperate to hide my shame, to shield myself from the hundreds of eyes branding me as less.
Ciaran's arm only tightened. My ribs ached under the pressure as he crushed me closer to him, as if daring anyone to move, to question, to touch.
Then his voice rang out, low and commanding, echoing against the stone walls.
"The Hunt is over."
Silence fell so sharp it rang in my ears. Not even the torches crackled.
"The King has claimed his mate."
A shock rolled through the courtyard. I felt it in the air, a wave of disbelief, outrage, and submission colliding all at once. For a single heartbeat, I thought they would rise against him, that claws and fangs would rip through the silence. My stomach clenched, braced for violence.
But the bowing only deepened. Backs curved further, foreheads pressed harder to the ground, and no one dared to breathe a protest.
He carried me past them all, their whispers nipping at my heels like icy wind. Rage clawed at my chest, shame seared my throat, and yet not a single sound escaped me. My words my fury were trapped behind the bond's cruel hold.
The fortress swallowed us whole.
Inside, the air was colder still. The stone walls rose so high they seemed endless, their rough surfaces lit only by torches that cast tall, wavering shadows. Tapestries hung from iron hooks scenes of ancient battles, wolves tearing through armies, rivers of red stitched into black cloth. The scent of iron clung to everything: iron doors, iron chains, iron will.
Every step he took echoed against the cavernous halls, the sound bouncing back until it felt like the walls themselves were mocking me.
I kicked once, thrashed weakly, but my strength was fading. The bond gnawed at me, draining every ounce of fight until my limbs felt like water, until my head spun with exhaustion.
Ciaran didn't slow. His silver eyes blazed forward, unyielding.
At last, we reached a chamber at the end of a long, torch-lit corridor. He shouldered the heavy door open, and the hinges groaned in protest. The air inside was still, untouched, as though waiting.
The room was vast, its ceiling lost in shadow. A bed stood at its center, carved from black oak, its posts etched with symbols older than language. Furs the color of ash and snow lay draped across it, soft and thick, a cruel contrast to the cold stone beneath my feet. Moonlight spilled through tall, narrow windows, painting pale bars of light across the floor.
Ciaran lowered me onto the bed. Not gently, not cruelly just decisively, as though this place, this claim, had already been written by fate itself.
My breath caught, my pulse hammering. The furs were warm against my skin, but the weight of them felt suffocating, like another chain I hadn't asked for.
"Rest," he commanded, his voice the sound of finality.
"I don't take orders from you," I spat, though my voice trembled, my body betraying me. My muscles shook with exhaustion, my chest still heaving from the night's terror, and yet I clung to the words like they were a blade.
His gaze lingered, molten and unreadable, silver eyes burning with something I couldn't name something darker than desire, heavier than anger. For one breath, I thought I saw the flicker of a man behind the King.
Then it was gone.
Without another word, he turned. His broad shoulders filled the doorway before the heavy door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the chamber like a sentence passed.
Alone, I curled into the furs, trembling. My chest ached with the bond's pull, my blood sang with exhaustion, but my mind screamed, clawed, fought.
I told myself I would not break. I would never belong here.
But when sleep dragged me under, it wasn't freedom I found.
It was Selene.
Her golden hair gleamed like firelight, her smile sharp as glass. She stood at the foot of the bed, her white dress glowing against the dark. Her eyes glimmered with cruel delight, exactly as they had the night she burned my hope to ash.
"You'll never be wolf, Elara," she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of every humiliation she had ever carved into me. "And now you think you can be Queen?"
Her shadow stretched, growing taller, darker, spilling across the walls. It devoured the moonlight, swallowed the furs, crept over my body until I couldn't breathe.
Her lau
ghter filled the chamber bright, merciless, endless.
And I woke choking on it.