The Shadow King's Alpha : The Cursed Bond

[Evening — Nhar’zhul Veyth Forest — Shadow Manor]

The moon lingered high above the northern forest, its pale light spilling through the ancient branches of Nhar’zhul Veyth.

The forest was unusually quiet tonight: no howling wolves, no rustling beasts, and not even the whisper of the wind. Only the distant sound of snow breaking beneath enormous paws.

CRUNCH...

CRUNCH...

An enormous black wolf emerged from between the ancient trees inside the Nhar’Zhul Veyth.

Its fur seemed to swallow the moonlight itself. Two golden eyes burned within the darkness as the beast moved toward the towering manor hidden deep within the forest.

The moment it reached the enormous obsidian gates—

FWOOSH.

Darkness gathered around its body.

The wolf’s form expanded upward, black fur receding beneath waves of shadow until a tall man stood upon the snow.

Lytharion.

The Lord of Darkness, his long black hair fell over his shoulders, his dark robes settling around him as though they had been woven from the shadows themselves.

He didn’t stop; the servants stationed near the entrance immediately lowered themselves.

"Welcome, my sovereign."

Lytharion didn’t acknowledge them; he simply walked past. His expression was unreadable, but something in the atmosphere surrounding him was different.

He was not angry; he was not calm either. He was thinking and whenever an ancient deity began thinking in silence, even the shadows knew better than to disturb him.

His footsteps echoed through the vast corridors of the Shadow Manor as he moved toward the deepest chamber.

The Chamber of Lunar Chamber.

Waiting outside the enormous black doors stood Zevran; the silver-haired servant immediately lowered himself onto one knee.

"My Sovereign."

Lytharion stopped before him as his golden eyes lowered. "Did you find anything?"

Zevran hesitated. "Not enough, Sire. I followed every trace left behind by the Grimfang King and Queen. I searched the northern forests, the mountains, even the ancient hunting grounds."

Zevran lowered his head. "But the source vanished every time I approached it."

Lytharion’s jaw tightened.

"And?"

Zevran took a slow breath. "There is one thing I can confirm. The force controlling them...was a divine deity."

The corridor became still. Lytharion’s fingers curled slowly at his side.

"Divine deity." He repeated the word quietly, then his expression darkened.

"Again..."

Zevran remained silent. Lytharion’s golden eyes moved toward the sealed doors of the chamber. "Again, they have begun reaching into the mortal realm."

There was something ancient in his voice now, something that had nothing to do with the Emperor of Qashmar, something far older.

Zevran lowered his head. "Yes, Sire."

For several moments, Lytharion simply stared at the door, then—"I have no choice."

Zevran understood immediately. "I have prepared everything."

CREAAAAK...

The enormous doors slowly opened and beyond them—

Silence.

An ancient silence.

Older than kingdoms. Older than wolves. Older than memory itself. At the center of the chamber stood the enormous ancient tree.

Its black trunk rose endlessly toward the heavens, twisted branches spreading across the ceiling like the arms of something that had existed before the world had learned to name itself.

Countless silver veins pulsed beneath its bark, like rivers of moonlight, yet tonight, something was different. Those silver veins glowed faintly crimson; it’s not even the red moon night.

The half-silver moon hung directly above the highest branches, its pale light pouring through them and bathing the entire chamber in cold radiance.

The roots of the ancient tree spread across the obsidian floor.

THUM.

THUM.

THUM.

They pulsed slowly, like the heartbeat of something sleeping beneath the world. Ancient runes carved into the floor began illuminating one after another.

SHIIING...

Silver light traveled through every carving until an enormous ritual circle surrounded the tree. Golden candles were ignited around the chamber.

Lytharion stepped inside as Zevran followed several paces behind. "The time is right, Sire."

Lytharion stopped before the tree. Zevran gestured toward one of the lowest branches. "If you pluck one of its leaves and place a drop of your blood upon it, the protection will awaken."

Lytharion stared at the ancient tree as his expression remained cold, but his eyes...his eyes carried something else, something painfully old.

"You..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I hope that this time...you will not take him from me."

Zevran froze as his eyes widened slightly; for a moment, he said nothing, then, carefully, he muttered, "So...I was correct; the Queen...is indeed...."

He stopped himself,, as he had never seen his sovereign look at the ancient tree like this, not with hatred alone, not with reverence, but with the kind of fury that came from remembering something that should have remained forgotten.

Lytharion’s golden eyes narrowed.

"You have mated him again with me, with the same bond mark."

Zevran’s breath caught. Lytharion slowly raised his hand toward one of the branches as his fingers hovered over the black bark.

"The same warmth, the same soul, yet with a different face." The words seemed to disappear into the ancient chamber. Lytharion’s expression hardened.

"Yet I will not allow the same ending." His fingers closed around a sharp branch.

"You hear me?"

The tree remained silent. Lytharion’s grip tightened as his golden eyes burned.

"If you dare take him from me again...I will tear you from your roots myself."

THUUUUUUNDER—!!!

A violent crack of thunder shook the chamber, and the candles flickered. The silver veins beneath the ancient bark flashed crimson.

Zevran instinctively lowered his head. Lytharion stared directly into the ancient branches, and then he scoffed.

"You don’t even have the right to be angry."

Silence.

Lytharion’s expression twisted into something almost bitter as his fingers slowly loosened.

"After all...you were the one who gave us that fate."

The chamber became deathly quiet; for several heartbeats, the deity simply stood there. Then he exhaled; his hand moved through his long hair as though trying to suppress something buried far deeper than anger.

"He has decided to be with me, and I will protect him this time." His voice became quieter, almost a vow, as his golden eyes hardened. "I will not repeat that life. I will not watch him disappear again, not because of gods, not because of fate and not even because of you."

He looked directly at the ancient tree.

"And certainly not because I was too late."

Then—

CRACK!

Lytharion tore one of the sharp branches away with his bare hand as blood immediately ran across his palm.

Dark, almost black. It dripped onto the obsidian floor.

DRIP.

DRIP.

The ancient tree trembled. Lytharion didn’t even flinch. Instead, darkness surged around his body, his form shifted, bones cracked softly, and black fur spread across his arms. His hands became enormous paws, and within seconds, the Lord of Darkness stood once more in his enormous wolf form.

The wound remained, as the dark blood covered one paw; he raised it, and slowly and carefully he pressed it against one of the silver leaves.

DROP.

A single bead of blood fell onto the leaf. For one heartbeat nothing happened.

Then—

THUUUUUM.

The entire chamber shook; silver light erupted from the tree. The leaf trembled beneath Lytharion’s paw. The silver veins beneath the bark began glowing brighter and brighter.

Until—

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIINE—!!!

The leaf detached itself from the branch as it floated through the air, then slowly descended into Lytharion’s bloodied hand.

His wolf form disappeared beneath a wave of shadow. Lytharion stood there once again as a man as he stared at the leaf. It was no longer silver; now half of it had become a deep crimson.

The other half...black like night itself.

Zevran stared at it as his expression changed. "The mark..."

Lytharion said nothing as Zevran stepped closer.

"This is the symbol of the two of you." He looked at the crimson portion. "The red...and the darkness."

Lytharion’s fingers tightened around the leaf. Zevran continued quietly.

"Once the protection spell is spoken while holding it, the mark will bind itself to the Queen’s life force."

Lytharion looked down. "It will become invisible?"

"Yes, Sire."

"And no divine being will be able to remove it? Not without confronting you first."

A faint smile appeared upon Lytharion’s lips. "Good."

He lifted the leaf closer to his eyes; the crimson portion pulsed. For the briefest instant something flickered inside his mind.

A pair of amber eyes, warm hands, and a voice calling his name, and then it was gone. Lytharion’s expression changed as his fingers tightened around the leaf as he closed his eyes.

"...Again."

Zevran stared at him. "My Sovereign?"

Lytharion opened his eyes; nothing remained in them now except cold determination. He looked toward the ancient tree as his hand closed protectively around the crimson-and-black leaf.

"I have lost him before...back then, in this lifetime, I will not repeat the same mistake twice."

The ancient tree’s silver veins pulsed once.

THUM.

Lytharion’s gaze became almost merciless.

"I refuse to lose him again." He turned away from the tree as the leaf remained safely within his palm.

"Prepare the ritual."

Zevran bowed deeply. "Yes, my sovereign."

Lytharion took one final look at the ancient branches and stepped out of the chamber.

Outside, thunder rolled across the night sky, and somewhere far away, beneath the roof of the Imperial Palace, Kael was waiting for his mate...completely unaware that an ancient promise had just been awakened.

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