The Shadow King's Alpha : The Cursed Bond

[Qashmar Empire — The Next Morning]

The first rays of dawn had barely touched the towering walls of the Imperial Capital...when the sound of galloping horses echoed through every street.

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

Imperial messengers dressed in silver cloaks raced through the capital with rolled newspapers tucked beneath their arms. Behind them...children laughed as they chased the horses through crowded streets. Merchants abandoned their stalls. Blacksmiths paused their hammers.

Even bakers leaned out of their shops, flour still covering their hands.

"What happened? Why are the Imperial Couriers out so early?"

"Has there been another war?"

One messenger raised a newspaper high into the air as his voice thundered across the marketplace. "Extra! Extra!"

"The Imperial Herald!"

"The next Emperor of Qashmar has been decided!"

The marketplace exploded.

"What?! Who is it?"

People rushed toward him from every direction, and within moments...every newspaper had been sold. A young boy eagerly unfolded one.

The bold black letters stretched across nearly the entire front page.

THE IMPERIAL HERALD HOUSE VAELRIC’S HEIR ACCEPTS THE THRONE, LORD KAEL VAELRIC, TO BECOME THE NEXT EMPEROR OF QASHMART. THE CORONATION CEREMONY SHALL BE HELD IN THE NEXT TWO NIGHTS.

Silence for one heartbeat...the entire street became perfectly still.

Then—

"...HE ACCEPTED!"

Cheers erupted.

"I knew it...I knew Young Lord Kael would never abandon the Empire."

A woman clutched the newspaper tightly against her chest. "Finally...our empire will have a right emperor this time."

Nearby a group of retired Imperial Knights laughed loudly. "I served under Grand Duke Lior years ago. If his son is anything like him...Qashmar is in good hands."

A little girl tugged at her mother’s sleeve. "Mother...Is Emperor Kael a good person?"

Her mother smiled warmly. "They say...he treats commoners the same way he treats nobles. They say he once stopped his own carriage just to help a child who had fallen into the snow."

"They say he remembers the names of the soldiers guarding House Vaelric."

"They say he personally visited villages after the northern famine."

The little girl’s eyes sparkled.

"So...he’ll be a kind emperor?"

Her mother looked toward the distant Imperial Palace. "I think...he already is."

Farther down the street flower merchants began weaving white lilies and silver moonflowers into elaborate wreaths.

"Raise the prices?"

One merchant laughed. "Raise them? This is the first emperor in years! I’ll sell every flower for half price!"

Another merchant clapped him on the shoulder.

"Then I’ll do the same!"

Laughter spread through the market. Musicians began playing. Children danced. Taverns opened before sunrise. Bakers placed fresh loaves outside their shops with handwritten signs.

"One free loaf in celebration of our future emperor!"

Across the capital church bells rang continuously. Priests offered prayers. Soldiers smiled openly. Even the stern Imperial Guards standing at the palace gates couldn’t hide the pride on their faces.

Far beyond the capital, the news spread just as quickly. Through mountain villages. Across quiet farming towns, into bustling ports. Along merchant caravans crossing the western deserts.

Everywhere people repeated the same name.

"Kael Vaelric...our future emperor."

High above the empire, countless white doves took flight from the towers of the Imperial Palace. Their wings shimmered beneath the morning sun as they scattered across the endless blue sky.

To the people of Qashmar...it looked like a blessing from the spirits themselves, but no one noticed that hidden among the celebrating crowds...a lone figure dressed entirely in black quietly folded a copy of The Imperial Herald.

His face remained hidden beneath a hood; his eyes lingered upon one sentence.

Lord Kael Vaelric to Become the Next Emperor of Qashmar.

For several long moments he said nothing. Then a faint smile appeared beneath the shadow of his hood.

"...Found you, the mate of Lytharion."

The newspaper slowly crumpled within his gloved hand. As laughter echoed throughout the empire, the first hunter quietly began his pursuit.

***

[Meanwhile—The Temple of the Spirits]

High above the celebrating empire, the Temple of the Spirits remained untouched by mortal joy. Its ancient marble pillars stood silently beneath the endless sky, while clouds drifted lazily around its floating terraces.

From the highest balcony...Lytharion stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His golden eyes overlooked the vast empire of Qashmar.

Far below, bells continued to ring; laughter echoed through cities. Children danced through crowded streets. The entire empire celebrated the birth of a new era.

Yet the Lord of Darkness remained utterly silent. Behind him, another deity stood beside the towering window.

The Lord of Light.

Shamash.

Golden sunlight gathered around him like a living cloak as he watched the festivities below with an amused smile.

"...Listen to them." Shamash’s voice carried the warmth of the morning sun. "The Empire is rejoicing."

Silence.

Lytharion neither moved nor answered. After several long moments...he slowly closed his eyes as he drew in a slow breath. The wind carried countless scents from the lands below.

Joy. Hope. Excitement. Faith and a faint smile almost touched his lips.

"...I can smell it." His deep voice barely disturbed the silence. "The happiness of millions...has become one."

Shamash chuckled. "...Can you?"

He leaned casually against the stone pillar. "Then surely...you can smell the poison as well."

Silence.

The smile vanished. Lytharion’s gaze remained fixed upon the empire; he did not deny it. Because...he could smell it, hidden beneath celebration, behind smiling faces within cheering crowds...

Murder. Hatred. Jealousy. Ambition. The scent of countless schemes already stained the wind.

Shamash folded his arms. "So...are you truly going to let him walk into all of that?"

No answer.

Shamash looked sideways at him. "You could still stop him. You need only say one word...and every kingdom would kneel."

Lytharion’s expression never changed, and his answer came immediately. "...No, he has chosen; he wishes to bear the burden of an emperor, so he shall bear it."

Shamash laughed quietly. "Still as stubborn as ever."

He turned toward the Empire once more. "And your mate...is even worse."

For the first time. The corner of Lytharion’s lips lifted ever so slightly. "...His father raised him well."

A long silence followed.

"He was taught that an emperor exists for his people...not himself. He believes the Empire is worth sacrificing everything for."

Another pause.

"So...that is exactly what he intends to do." His voice grew quieter. "He has chosen to invite evil into his own home. What right do I have...to deny him that choice? I have tried to stop him, and yet he didn’t. Guess I cannot change his fate."

The wind swept between them; neither deity spoke. At length...Shamash broke the silence. "You say those words...as though his life means nothing to you."

Silence. A very, very...long silence.

Then—

"...Whether he lives...or dies..." Lytharion answered without turning around. "...is of no concern to me."

The temple fell silent. Shamash simply stared at him. Then he sighed, muttering, "...Liar."

Lytharion’s golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Shamash smiled knowingly. "I’ve known you since the first dawn. You may deceive mortals. You may deceive the spirits, but you have never been able to deceive me."

He looked toward the empire below.

"...Your mate is surrounded. His enemies outnumber those who would gladly die for him."

Another pause.

"Perhaps...Grand Duke Lior is the only soul who truly stands beside him. " His smile slowly faded. "The nobles envy him, the ambitious fear him, the assassins seek him, and the gods watch him."

He glanced sideways.

"And even you...have become another trial he must overcome."

Lytharion offered no denial, because...none was needed. After several moments he turned away. "...You speak far too much."

Shamash laughed. "And yet...you always stay long enough to listen."

Lytharion stopped, only for a heartbeat, and a weary sigh escaped him. "Annoying."

Shamash’s grin widened as he placed a hand over his chest dramatically.

"I’ll choose to hear only the first word. You’re...’" He pointed to himself. "’...pretty...insufferable."

Shamash burst into laughter. Dark mist slowly gathered around Lytharion’s feet. It climbed upward...consuming his figure. His body dissolved into endless black shadows.

A heartbeat later a massive black wolf stood where the deity had been. His midnight fur shimmered like the night sky itself. His golden eyes remained fixed upon the distant empire.

Upon one man.

Kael.

For several silent moments the great wolf neither moved nor blinked. Then he lifted his head. Across the temple courtyard stood the colossal stone statue of Vaelthor—

the First Wolf.

The Creator of all wolf clans. The ancestor revered by every Alpha throughout history. The black wolf held the statue’s gaze for a long moment.

Neither moved and neither spoke. Then with slow, silent steps the Lord of Darkness walked past the ancient Wolf God and disappeared into the endless sea of clouds.

Far below, the Empire continued to celebrate. Completely unaware...that every laugh carried upon the wind...also carried the scent of approaching blood.

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