The castle of the High Moon stood at the edge of the Northern Range, carved into black stone and lit by torches that never went out. Its walls had seen wars, betrayals, and coronations. But not since the ancient days had it hosted something like this.
Every Alpha in the known territories had been summoned.
The long hall was thick with growls and the scent of dominance — males and females of different bloodlines eyeing one another like predators caged together. Banners of the packs hung from the rafters, flickering in the torchlight: the Silverfang, the Nightclaw, the Hollowborn, the Frostmanes, and more.
At the head of the table stood Alpha Marek, the oldest of them all, his beard silver, his eyes sharp as cold steel. He slammed his palm on the table, silencing the low rumble of voices.
"Enough," he barked. "You all know why we're here."
A murmur rippled through the hall. Everyone did. The rumors had spread like wildfire — whispers of a woman drenched in blood, wolves kneeling before her, the Hollow burned to ashes.
"The Blood Queen," one of the Alphas muttered.
Marek's lip curled. "Call her what you want. But she's killed men — our men — and the Hunters. That makes her no myth. It makes her a threat."
From the far end of the hall, a woman's voice rose. "Or a sign."
Heads turned. It was Alpha Sera of the Crescent Pack, her dark hair falling in loose waves, her eyes glinting like amber. "The prophecies spoke of balance. Maybe she's not the end of us. Maybe she's what saves us."
Marek snorted. "You've been reading too many tales. The last 'chosen one' left a field of bones in her wake."
Sera met his glare without flinching. "And yet she brought peace after. You'd know if you didn't cling so tightly to your throne."
The hall erupted again — growls, snarls, old grudges surfacing.
But then a voice deeper than all others cut through the noise.
"She's real."
The crowd fell silent.
From the shadows near the doors, Lucian stepped forward. His presence hit like a storm — tall, broad-shouldered, his golden eyes burning with something between exhaustion and defiance.
Every Alpha rose to their feet. Some drew blades.
"Marek," Lucian said, "you sent your wolves into the Hollow without my permission. They died because of your arrogance."
Marek's jaw tightened. "They died because you protected a monster."
Lucian walked closer, unbothered by the blades that followed his movement. "Watch your tongue, old man. You speak of my mate."
The word mate sent a ripple through the hall. Even Sera's expression changed — curiosity laced with unease.
Marek sneered. "Then the rumors are true. You've bound yourself to her."
Lucian's voice dropped low. "Bound? No. Marked? Once. But what she carries now… it's beyond any bond I've ever known."
He tossed a bloodstained sigil onto the table — a metal pendant scorched black. "The Hunters forged this from moonsteel. It melted in her presence."
Gasps echoed.
Sera leaned forward, studying the sigil. "So the Queen's power isn't just myth."
Lucian's eyes flicked up, meeting hers. "She's alive. And she's waking something none of you are ready for."
Marek slammed his fist down again. "Then she must be destroyed before it's too late."
Lucian growled. "Try, and you'll start a war you can't win."
"War?" Marek spat. "You've already brought war to our gates. Do you even hear yourself, boy? You speak of protecting a creature who slaughtered her own kind!"
Lucian's teeth bared, the beast beneath his skin fighting to break free. But he stopped when Sera spoke again, her tone calm but cutting.
"What if she didn't slaughter them?" she asked quietly. "What if they bowed?"
The hall froze.
Sera's gaze flicked to Lucian. "Tell me, Alpha. When you saw her… did they kneel?"
Lucian hesitated. The image flashed in his mind — wolves on their knees, the blood moon above them, Aria standing like a goddess in red flame.
"…Yes."
The word hung heavy in the air.
Sera smiled faintly. "Then we're not dealing with a curse. We're dealing with a coronation."
Marek's face twisted with rage. "You'd kneel to a monster?"
Sera shrugged. "I'd kneel to survival. We all would, if it meant not dying under her wrath."
Marek's hand went to his sword. "Enough of this madness."
But before he could draw it, the torches flickered — and went out.
Darkness swallowed the hall.
Lucian's senses sharpened. He caught the scent before the others did — ash and roses. His pulse spiked.
A voice, soft and haunting, filled the darkness.
"You talk of me like I'm not listening."
A red glow shimmered at the far end of the hall. From it, Aria emerged — pale, ethereal, her eyes like liquid moonlight. The mark on her arm burned faintly beneath the torn fabric of her sleeve.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Lucian stepped forward instinctively. "Aria—"
"Don't," she said, her voice calm, almost gentle. "I didn't come for you."
The Alphas backed away, some shifting halfway into their wolf forms.
Aria looked at them — not with hatred, but with something colder. Authority.
"You gathered to decide my fate," she said. "How quaint. But you don't decide the fate of the moon. You answer to it."
Marek snarled. "You dare walk in here after what you've done?"
Aria tilted her head. "Dare? Old wolf, I am what dares."
Power rippled through the room. The torches reignited, blazing blood-red. Every Alpha felt it — their wolves whimpering inside, their instincts screaming to bow.
Sera dropped to one knee first. "My Queen."
The others hesitated, fighting the pull. But one by one, they followed. Even Marek trembled, sweat dripping from his brow as he resisted.
Lucian stood in silence, torn between pride and fear. The woman he loved was no longer his equal. She was something else entirely.
Aria's gaze swept over the kneeling Alphas. "The world is changing. You can stand beside me… or beneath me. Choose."
Her voice echoed like thunder.
And as the blood moon rose over the castle, the first empire of wolves in centuries began — under the reign of the Blood Queen.