The night was silent, heavy with the scent of rain and smoke. The forest of Moonveil stretched endlessly around the mountains, its trees stood like dark guardians under a stormy sky. Somewhere deep in those shadows walked a man who once ruled these lands, Aiden Blackridge, Alpha of the most powerful pack the realm had ever known. But that was before everything fell apart. Before the curse.
Aiden moved with slow, uneven steps. His body was strong, but his spirit carried a heavy burden. Every beat of his heart felt strange, empty, wrong. He could no longer hear the wolf inside him—the voice that had guided him since birth, the spirit that gave him strength and power. Now there was only silence where there had once been a roar. He had become something less than a wolf, something that made his own pack look at him with fear and doubt. The once proud Alpha had become a fallen leader.
Lightning split the sky as he reached the edge of his territory. Behind him, the Moonveil pack lands stretched across hills and rivers, glowing faintly with firelight from distant homes. He could almost hear the whispers of his warriors—Our Alpha is cursed. The gods have turned from him. He is no longer one of us. Those whispers stung more than any blade. He had led them through wars, blood, and storms. He had never failed them—until now.
His hand brushed the mark on his chest, a dark scar shaped like a crescent moon. It burned whenever the curse stirred, whenever the full moon rose. The healer said it was the mark of a witch's spell—dark magic that even the gods couldn't undo. But Aiden refused to believe there was no way back. Somewhere, there had to be an answer. Somewhere, there had to be someone who could undo what had been done to him.
He looked up at the night sky, rain washing over his face. The moon was pale, almost hidden behind clouds, as if it too was ashamed to look upon him. "You can take my wolf," he whispered, his voice hoarse from nights of silence, "but you won't take my will."
The wind howled in reply, carrying faint sounds from far away—laughter, growls, the life of his pack continuing without him. For the first time in his life, Aiden felt like an outsider to his own people. Even his Beta, loyal for years, had begun to question him. Rumors said a new Alpha would rise soon if Aiden didn't reclaim his strength. He couldn't allow that. Not yet.
The forest path grew darker as he walked toward the borders of Moonveil. The old tales spoke of a place beyond the river—a forest called Wildwoods, where magic still lived and witches still whispered to the trees. He had always dismissed those tales as superstition, but desperation changed a man's beliefs. If the curse had come from a witch, then perhaps only another witch could lift it.
He reached the river at dawn, the sky soft with pale light. The water was cold, the current sharp. Aiden stared at his reflection—a man with dark hair matted by rain, silver eyes that once glowed with the spirit of the wolf, now dim. He barely recognized himself. "You were supposed to be strong," he muttered, almost laughing. "And look at you now." His voice broke on the last word.
A soft growl echoed behind him. Aiden turned quickly, hand reaching for the dagger at his side, but it was only a wolf—one of his sentinels, a young warrior named Kael. The boy lowered his head. "Alpha," Kael said quietly, his voice trembling with uncertainty. "The council wants your presence tonight. They say the pack needs to choose a new leader if your… condition does not change."
Aiden's jaw tightened. Condition. That was what they called it now. A curse so deep it tore the soul apart, and they spoke of it like an illness. "Tell the council," Aiden said, stepping closer, "that the Alpha still breathes. And as long as I breathe, no one takes my place."
Kael hesitated. "But the elders—"
"Go," Aiden growled, his eyes flashing silver for a heartbeat. The young wolf backed away instantly and ran into the trees. For a moment, Aiden stood still, chest rising with anger, but then the flash of power faded, and with it came pain. His vision blurred. The curse pulsed through his veins like fire. He fell to one knee, gasping, clawing at the ground until the feeling passed.
When he finally looked up, the forest around him was quiet again. Only the sound of running water and rustling leaves filled the air. He knew he couldn't stay much longer. The pack would not wait for a broken Alpha.
He crossed the river, his boots sinking into mud, his mind replaying the old stories his mother once told him—of witches who could heal souls, of magic stronger than fate. He had laughed at those stories once. Now he prayed they were true.
Beyond the river, the land changed. The trees grew taller, darker, whispering as the wind moved through them. The air smelled of moss and secrets. Ravens followed his steps, their black eyes watching from above. He was no longer in the land of wolves—this was the realm of the unknown.
By nightfall, he reached a clearing where the moonlight broke through the clouds. At its center stood an ancient stone arch covered in vines and runes. The sight made his chest tighten—the markings pulsed faintly, the same way the scar on his chest did. He could feel the magic there, calling to him, testing him.
"This is where she lives," a voice inside his mind whispered—faint, distant, but real. He didn't know if it was the remnants of his wolf or something else entirely.
He stepped closer, brushing a hand over the stone. The air shimmered with energy, and a faint whisper drifted through the clearing—soft, feminine, like a memory.
"Turn back, Alpha of Moonveil; this path ends in blood."
Aiden froze. His heart pounded, his senses sharpening. "Who's there?" he demanded.
The whisper faded, leaving only silence. The moon shifted behind the clouds, and the clearing darkened once more.
Aiden stood there for a long moment, his hand still on the cold stone. Then, with a breath that felt like a promise, he said quietly, "Then let it end in blood, if it must."
And with that, the Fallen Alpha took his first step into the Wildwoods.