Episode 1
The Great Wall was not merely a fortress; it was a boundary carved in blood and fear. For centuries, it had divided two worlds: the dark, regal Vampire empire of the Sanguine and the wild, brutal dominion of the Lycans.
Tonight, under a moon that hung heavy and red, two shadows met at the wall's highest, most forgotten tower — a place whispered of in stories, yet believed by many to be cursed.
Valerius — the crown prince of the Sanguine Empire — moved like a ghost, his long cloak whispering over the cold stone. His crimson eyes glowed softly beneath his hood as he climbed the final steps to the tower's peak. The night air smelled of iron and ancient sorrow.
She was already there, leaning against the parapet, her hair flowing like silver flames in the moonlight. Lyra, princess of the Lycan Wilds — fierce, untamed, eyes like storm-lit skies. When Valerius stepped onto the platform, she looked over her shoulder. A dangerous smile curled her lips.
"You're late," she whispered, voice edged with both warmth and accusation.
Valerius took a slow breath. The sight of her, even after countless secret meetings, still stole his thoughts. "I had to dodge a dozen Night Watchers," he said, stepping closer. "Your kind's patrols are growing restless."
She snorted softly. "My kind? And yours are so innocent? Last night three Lycans were found torn apart — by vampires."
Silence settled between them. Their worlds were at the brink of war, each murder another stone on the path to open conflict. Yet here, at the edge of their worlds, they found solace — in each other's arms, in forbidden whispers.
Valerius reached for her hand. Lyra hesitated. The first time they touched, it was as if lightning had cracked through the wall itself. Tonight was no different. Their fingers brushed, and the cold night seemed to sigh around them.
"I wish we could run," Lyra murmured, eyes softening. "Just disappear beyond this damned wall."
"And leave our people to their fate?" Valerius asked, his voice low and pained.
Her jaw tightened. "What have our people ever done for us? Except chain us to thrones we never wanted?"
The truth in her words cut deep. Since birth, both were taught hatred: Vampires were taught that Lycans were savage beasts; Lycans were taught that Vampires were cunning monsters. And yet, here they stood, wanting nothing but each other.
A howl rose in the distance — long, mournful, close. Lyra stiffened. "That's a warning. I have to go," she said, turning from him.
He caught her wrist. "When will I see you again?"
"Tomorrow," she breathed. "Same hour. Same madness."
She pulled her hood up, slipping into shadows. Her scent — wild earth and midnight rain — lingered behind her. Valerius watched until she vanished into the darkness beyond the wall. The ache in his chest was a familiar wound: one that grew deeper with every stolen meeting.
He descended the tower with a predator's silence, but as he reached the last steps, a voice emerged from the shadows.
"You've grown careless, brother," it said. A tall figure stepped forward, torchlight revealing his face — Prince Lucien, Valerius's older brother, heir to the Sanguine throne.
Valerius's blood ran cold. "What are you doing here?" he asked, tone dangerously even.
Lucien's smile was all ice. "I could ask the same. Meeting a werewolf princess on a cursed tower? Father would have your head, Valerius."
Valerius's hand went to the dagger at his belt. "This is not your concern."
"Oh, but it is," Lucien replied, stepping closer. His eyes glittered red. "Our war council meets tomorrow. They're demanding Lycans' blood. And here you are, consorting with the enemy."
A low growl rumbled in Valerius's chest. "You will say nothing."
Lucien's expression shifted — a flicker of disgust, quickly replaced by something almost sad. "I should expose you. But you are still my brother. And I still hope you'll come to your senses."
Valerius's hand tightened on his dagger, but Lucien turned his back before steel could leave its sheath. "Tomorrow, brother," he called over his shoulder, voice echoing down the stone stairwell. "Choose wisely — your crown or your heart."
---
In the Lycan Wilds, Lyra sprinted through the dark forest, claws extended to catch every branch, feet gliding over root and stone. She landed in a clearing where a massive figure stood waiting — Commander Ragnar, the war chief of the Lycans.
"Princess," he growled, voice like rolling thunder. "You went to the wall again."
Lyra lifted her chin, baring her teeth in defiance. "You will not speak of this."
Ragnar's eyes narrowed. "You endanger us all. The council is restless. They smell betrayal — and it leads to you."
She stepped into his space until her breath mingled with his. "If you wish to challenge me, do it now."
Ragnar hesitated — she was young, but royal blood flowed in her veins, and the ancient laws protected her. He lowered his gaze, fury simmering. "War is coming, princess. Choose your loyalties carefully."
---
At dawn, the Great Wall stood silent as two armies prepared in secret: Lycans sharpening claws, Vampires polishing blades. Both sides blamed each other for murders neither had committed — and in the shadows, unseen eyes watched. A new player moved, feeding lies into both courts, stoking hatred.
And at the heart of it all were Valerius and Lyra — bound by a love that might just doom them both.
To be countinue....