They said he was a monster. A cursed king. A man who had once ruled with fire and war, and who now lived far away in the cold, forgotten North.
No one had seen him in years, but everyone still feared him.
Aria Everen was a human girl born into a noble family in the South.
She had grown up in gardens of roses and marbled halls, taught to dance, speak properly, and smile with grace. Her life had always been one of rules, of duty, of appearances. But none of that prepared her for the day her name was chosen.
She was to marry the Beast King.
She didn't get a chance to say no. The decision had been made behind closed doors. The marriage contract had already been sealed. It was the price her family paid for peace. If she refused, there would be war. Her people would suffer.
So she said nothing.
She put on the silver dress they gave her and stepped into the royal carriage.
And with that she left behind everything and everyone she had ever known.
The journey to the North was long and cold. Each day, the land grew darker. The sky stayed covered in thick clouds, heavy with fog. The trees looked like twisted bones, and snow began to fall, even though it wasn't winter.
Wolves began to appear, running alongside the carriage. They didn't attack. They didn't growl. They just watched her, as if they were guarding her... or hunting her.
The guards who rode with her didn't speak. Not to her. Not to each other. They kept their eyes forward and their hands close to their weapons.
Aria sat in silence, her hands folded in her lap, her heart beating loud and fast inside her chest. She had never seen the Beast King before. No one she knew had. Only rumors remained.
Some said he no longer looked human. Others said he had claws instead of hands. Most believed he hadn't spoken a single word in over a hundred years.
And his last bride?
They said she screamed all night before the castle swallowed her whole.
Just before sunset, the castle came into view. It did not look like the grand homes of the southern courts. It was carved from black stone and built into the side of a high cliff. Its towers were crooked and sharp, like broken fingers reaching for the sky. There were no lanterns in the windows. No people at the gates. No sound but the wind.
And him.
He stood at the top of the long stone staircase. Tall and still, his black coat shifting in the wind like a shadow brought to life.
That was Damon, the Cursed Lycan King of the North.
He said nothing as she stepped down from the carriage. Her legs were shaking, but she kept walking, even when everything in her heart told her to run.
He didn't greet her. He didn't offer his hand.
He only stared at her.
His face was pale, cold, and too perfect, like it had been carved from marble. His black hair fell just past his jaw, thick and straight. And his eyes, his eyes glowed like fire trapped behind glass.
He looked at her the way someone might look at a ghost.
And then, without a word, he turned and walked up the steps toward the castle doors.
That was her welcome.
A silent servant met her inside the hall. She was led through dark corridors and winding staircases until they reached a small chamber. The room had a single bed, a narrow window, and a mirror with a long crack running through it.
The servant only said five words:
"Eat. Sleep. Don't wander at night."
Then she left, closing the door behind her.
Aria stood at the window, staring out at the cold sky. The moon was full, but it gave no warmth.
She didn't cry.
She hadn't cried since the day she learned she would be given to the Beast King.
But something inside her stirred, quiet and uneasy.
It wasn't sorrow. It wasn't anger. It was something colder. Something that sat heavy in her chest and made the room feel larger than it was.
She had never been this far from home. Never felt this… alone.
The castle was silent in a way that didn't feel natural. The wind outside whispered through cracks in the stone, and the air in the room didn't move. Every corner felt untouched, like the place had been frozen in time, waiting for someone to disturb it.
But she didn't feel like that someone.
She felt like a stranger dropped into a story that had already begun, too late to change the ending.
When sleep finally came, it was thin and restless.
She dreamed of doors that wouldn't open. Of footsteps behind her that disappeared when she turned. Of long, dark hallways and voices she couldn't understand. And when she woke, the cold hadn't left her. It had only crept deeper.
Elsewhere in the castle, the King stood alone in a grand, empty hall. His throne sat behind him, untouched. His wolves rested near the door, silent and watchful.
He hadn't spoken a word since she arrived.
But now, he said one.
Softly.
"Finally."