My heart pounded wildly. This comb, which belonged to my mother, and this gem from the northern werewolves... were they originally one and the same? What could this possibly mean?
Before I could think further, the carriage came to a sudden halt. The door was thrown open, and two northern guards squeezed inside. One was older, Hakon, and the other younger, Ulf.
"It's started snowing outside," Hakon explained succinctly. "It's warmer in here."
After entering the northern territory, the weather had visibly worsened. I wrapped the thin ceremonial gown tighter around myself, unable to suppress a shiver.
"Excuse me…" I was so thirsty I couldn't help but speak, my voice hoarse. "Could I have some water?"
"Offerings have no right to make requests," Ulf said, his voice as cold as the blizzard outside.
Hakon said nothing, simply handing a waterskin to me.
"Hakon, why are you being so polite to an offering from the South?" Ulf said, displeased. "They killed plenty of our brothers."
"She is part of the peace treaty now," Hakon's voice was calm. "She cannot die before we reach Winterfang."
I finished the water and handed the waterskin back to Hakon. "Thank you."
I gathered my courage and tentatively asked, "I heard… that your Alpha… Lord Kaelen, he…"
"Silence!" Ulf immediately cut me off. "Is the Alpha's name something an offering like you can speak?"
"Let her speak," Hakon glanced at Ulf, then turned to me. "What do you want to know?"
"They all say… he is 'Bluebeard'," I said cautiously. "That he is brutal, and that he… he drinks human blood."
Ulf let out a contemptuous snort but didn't refute it.
Hakon was silent for so long I thought he wouldn't answer.
"The Alpha," he finally began, his voice low, "carries a burden none of us can imagine. You only need to remember one thing: do not defy him, and do not provoke him. Otherwise, no one can save you."
He suddenly pulled open his collar, revealing a gruesome old scar below his collarbone. "On the full moon night three years ago, I nearly tore my own son to shreds. It was the Alpha who shielded him from my claws with his own body."
His words sent a deeper chill through me than any horror story.
After several more days of bumpy travel, the carriage finally stopped.
"We're here," Hakon said.
The door was opened, and an icy wind, laced with the scent of pine needles and blood, rushed in. I stepped out of the carriage and saw the castle of Winterfang.
It was a fortress built of massive obsidian, resembling a dormant beast under the gray-white sky. The castle walls were covered in the scars of war and frost.
I was led directly to the throne hall. The hall was vast and empty, with no decoration apart from a throne in the center, carved from a single block of stone and covered in knife marks.
A figure stood with his back to me before a giant hearth.
When he turned, I felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the hall.
He was as tall as a bear, his broad shoulders blocking the firelight. His worn black leather armor was still stained with dark red blood. Long black hair hung loose, and a thick, untrimmed beard covered his jaw.
His was a face carved by frost and war, with lines as hard as rock and thin, tightly pressed lips.
But what was most suffocating were his eyes. A pair of bottomless black eyes, devoid of light.
He was Kaelen.
The powerful and oppressive aura emanating from him instantly reminded me of the out-of-control giant wolf by the Moon Lake.
He walked down the steps, closing in on me, his gaze sizing me up as if I were an object.
"You," his voice was as cold as the northern winds, "are the 'peace' sent from the South?"
"I am merely a discarded bargaining chip," I said, looking up to meet his hate-filled eyes.
He let out a cold laugh, a sound devoid of any warmth. "Good. At least you're self-aware. A bargaining chip should act like one."
"Don't cause me any trouble."
I was taken to an ancient ritual hall in the castle's dungeons.
The walls were carved with the names of past northern Alphas, each name like a bleeding scar. The air was thick with the smell of dust and dried blood.
High Priestess Morgana stood before the central altar. Behind her stood Kaelen's uncle, Barton; Liam, whose eyes were full of sympathy; and his second-in-command, Drake, his face expressionless. They were like a panel of judges, waiting for the ceremony to begin.
Kaelen stood opposite me, his gaze as cold as ever.
"Let us begin," Morgana's voice echoed in the hall, as if stirring some ancient power.
On the walls, the stone carvings bearing the ancestors' names began to slowly seep a dark red, tear-like blood.
Morgana chanted an ancient incantation and, with a sharp obsidian dagger, first cut Kaelen's palm. Blood dripped onto the altar with a sizzle. Then, she walked towards me.
I did not resist.
The moment the dagger sliced my skin, I bit my lip in pain. A single drop of my blood fell onto the altar, forming a tiny pool that reflected the cold, curious faces of all those watching.
Morgana forcibly pressed my bleeding hand against Kaelen's wound. The veins on the back of Kaelen's hand instantly bulged, like dragons fighting to break their chains.
"Ah—!"
A pained grunt escaped both of us simultaneously.
A searing power, filled with rage and hatred, surged from his blood into my body. My mind was instantly assaulted by unfamiliar visions—a land ravaged by war, a man and a woman lying in a pool of blood, a small boy kneeling beside them, wailing in despair… In that chaotic scene, a silver glint flashed past, shaped like a comb!
The moment I saw that image, my mother's old comb, tucked away safely, suddenly grew scorching hot, like a branding iron!
At the same time, I could feel the cold power of the "Silver Frost Blood" in my veins rushing towards him.
His body jolted, and for the first time, shock appeared in his hate-filled black eyes. He was seeing my past, too: the childhood of being whipped by Lillian, the humiliation of being pushed into the mud by Kaelen, the despair of watching Willow being dragged away before my eyes…
The mingling of our blood forced us to witness each other's deepest scars.
"Get out of my head with your pathetic memories!" he snarled, violently flinging my hand away, his voice filled with the rage of having his privacy violated.
"Your hatred is burning me!" I staggered back, returning his glare without weakness. "Get your claws off me!"
The pact was complete.
I looked at him, and he looked at me. What surged between us was no longer pure hatred, but the raw, twitching viscera of two souls ripped open by fate.
"Very good," Morgana's voice broke the silence. "The ritual is complete."
Barton suggested, "Kaelen, she is an offering, after all. Throwing her directly into the dungeon would be improper. Perhaps… we should place her in the 'Moon Shadow Courtyard' on the east wing for now."
Kaelen said nothing, only shot me a look of disgust before turning and leaving the ritual hall.
His retreating back looked like that of a wounded beast that had just been publicly humiliated.
After the ritual, I was escorted by guards to the Moon Shadow Courtyard, a secluded area in the east wing of the castle.
It was beautiful, and desolate. A dozen other girls lived in the courtyard. Like me, they were all "offerings" from various defeated tribes. They were all beautiful, but their eyes were empty, like a collection of soulless dolls.
An elderly matron read the rules to me.
"Here, your only duty is to serve the Alpha."
"Each night, one of you will be 'chosen' and sent to the Alpha's chambers."
"Afterward, you must drink the 'Soul-Forgetting Potion.' Nothing about the Alpha's chambers is to be remembered."
"And the most important rule," she paused, her cold gaze sweeping over each of us, "no pregnancies are allowed here. If discovered, you will face the consequences."
After reciting these cold regulations, she seemed to remember something and added another point.
"One more thing," her voice lowered slightly. "There are two Alphas. One is the king you must serve, and the other is the prince you must never provoke. Lord Liam is merciful by nature, but do not dream of getting any pity or help from him. Be clear on who your master is, and do not make foolish mistakes."
With that, she turned and left.
Late that night, just as I was about to fall asleep, a thin figure slipped silently to my bedside. It was Lisa, a girl from the Snow Fox Tribe.
"Don't go… Whatever you do, don't get chosen…" she whispered in my ear.
"Why?" I whispered back.
"Some of the ones who return have strange cuts on their bodies, and they get weaker by the day…" She looked around in terror, her voice dropping even lower. "And some… they go and never come back at all…"
"Where do they go?"
An expression of utter terror filled Lisa's eyes. She mouthed a few silent words to me: "The attic… dried corpses…"
My blood ran cold.
A few nights later, my bad luck arrived. The matron, holding a list, called out my name.
"Aila."
All the other girls cast pitiful glances my way. I stood up without expression and followed her out of the room. At the end of the hall, another maid held a small silver bowl containing a dark black liquid.
"Drink it," the matron commanded. It was the "Soul-Forgetting Potion."
I took the bowl, staring at the ominous memory-stealing liquid. I couldn't drink it. I had to know the secrets of Kaelen's chambers, had to know what happened to those girls.
The moment I brought the bowl to my lips, I "accidentally" let my hand slip.
CRASH—!
The silver bowl fell to the floor, the potion spilling everywhere.
"You!" The matron's face changed.
"I… I don't know what's happening…" I immediately curled up on the floor, my body beginning to tremble violently, my voice so weak it sounded like it could break at any moment. "My blood… it's so cold… it hurts so much…"
It was the night of the full moon, and my "Silver Frost Blood" had arrived right on schedule. I didn't suppress it; instead, I deliberately exaggerated the painful symptoms. My skin turned unnaturally pale, even emitting a faint silver glow.
"It's a… contagious disease… that only circulates among us southern half-bloods…" I managed to force out the words with all my strength.
The matron stumbled back in fear. She immediately reported the incident. Soon, the order came down.
"The Alpha has commanded," the matron announced with a hint of relief, "that until her illness is identified, Aila is to be isolated in the abandoned tower at the top of the castle! No one is to approach, to avoid contagion!"
I had succeeded.
I was "escorted" by guards to the most mysterious and terrifying place in the castle. The room was thick with dust, but at least, for now, I was safe.
Opposite my room was the very chamber that was sealed with a heavy brass lock, the room no one was allowed to enter.
Night fell. As if the agony of the "Silver Frost Blood" wasn't enough, the sound of heavy, beast-like panting came from outside my window.
Forcing myself through the pain, I cautiously approached the window and saw a sight I would never forget.
A giant black wolf, like an incarnation of shadow, was pacing restlessly outside my window. Its eyes, burning with crimson flames, were fixed on my room.
Oh, brilliant, I thought sarcastically. I've just moved into my new home, and I already have a violent, perverted neighbor.
It kept clawing at the stone wall, the noise making it impossible for me to sleep.
I couldn't take it anymore.
I grabbed a heavy old shawl that the guards had tossed into the room, opened a small crack in the window, and threw it towards the massive black shadow below.
"You're too loud!" I hissed in a low voice. "Take this for your den! And stop making noise!"
The giant wolf was startled by the sudden object. It bent its head and sniffed it, catching my lingering scent.
Then, it did something that left me utterly stunned.
It gently picked up the shawl in its mouth, walked to a sheltered corner, spread the shawl on the ground, and then… lay down on it, like a large dog that had just received a new toy.
It made no more noise, simply lying there quietly, its crimson eyes watching my window, unblinking, as if it were standing guard for me.
I stared at it, my heart filled with confusion. This was destined to be a sleepless night.