The rogue staggered through the forest, limping and bleeding, his fur covered with blood. His breath came in ragged pants, each step carrying him closer to the dark stone fortress that rose out of the cliffs like jagged fangs. The moon was still high, casting silver streaks across his scarred hide. His body trembled from exhaustion, but it was not the pain that made him stumble, it was fear.
Damian would not be pleased.
The moment he crossed into the clearing before the stronghold, two guards rushed forward, shifting instantly into their wolf forms, hackles raised. One sniff was enough for them to recognize him.
"Rykor," one of them muttered, voice dripping with disdain as he returned to his human form. "You reek of failure."
The rogue wolf Rykor lifted his head weakly but said nothing. He couldn't. His throat still ached from where Brandy's claws had torn into him. Instead, he let them drag him inside, down the long stone hallways where torches flickered against walls carved with old marks of the pack's victories.
At the end of the corridor, Damian sat on his throne, a brutal chair of black stone, as cold and commanding as the man himself. His eyes glowed a fierce amber in the torchlight, his presence filling the room with oppressive weight. He was broad shouldered, his features sharp, his aura suffocating. The air itself seemed to bend around him, and the wolves bowing at his feet barely dared to breathe.
Rykor collapsed at the base of the throne, groveling.
"My Alpha," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "Forgive me."
Damian's eyes narrowed. "You return alive." His tone was sharp, cold. "Where is the boy?"
Rykor trembled, lowering his gaze. "He… fought. He is not what we thought. He…. he carries power."
A growl reverberated from Damian's chest, low and dangerous. "Power? He is but a half breed, a mistake of Eloise's weakness."
"No, my Alpha," Rykor stammered. "I saw it. His claws, his strength… his blood burns differently. He is not completely human, nor complete wolf. He is something else. Something beyond both."
The murmurs of the gathered wolves rose, filling the hall. Words spread like wildfire: the half breed lives.
Damian rose to his feet, towering above them all. The murmurs silenced instantly.
"Do not be fooled by Eloise's cursed child," he thundered, his voice echoing through the stone chamber. "The prophecy speaks of him, yes. But not as a savior. As destruction. If he lives, he will tear this pack apart. He will bring ruin to everything we are!"
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some wolves bowed their heads in fearful agreement, while others shifted uneasily, glancing at one another. The prophecy. They remembered it well. And though Damian twisted the words, they recalled its true message: the child of wolf and human would rise as Alpha, bringing balance to the bloodlines.
But who dared to contradict Damian?
Damian's amber eyes swept over them, burning with fury and authority. "Eloise's mistake must be erased. Her son is no Alpha, he is a monster. And monsters must be destroyed. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Alpha!" the wolves roared, their voices a mixture of loyalty and fear.
Damian's lips curved into a cruel smile. He turned his gaze back to Rykor, crouching before him. "You failed me once. You will not fail again. Assemble the hunters. Find the boy. Kill him. And kill the human girl with him."
Rykor swallowed hard, bowing deeply. "As you command."
As the rogue limped away, one wolf lingered in the shadows of the hall. Terran, a lean figure with calculating eyes. He bowed with the others, but his mind churned. If the boy truly lived… if Eloise's son truly carried that much strength… Perhaps Damian's reign was not as unshakable as it seemed.
***
Brandy awoke with a jolt, his body drenched in sweat. His chest burned, his skin aching where the rogue's claws had raked across him. For a moment, he did not know where he was. Then he saw the flicker of firelight and the soft shape beside him.
Alisa sat cross-legged on the floor, grinding herbs with a small stone. Her hair caught the glow of the flames, her face set in quiet determination. She didn't notice his eyes open at first.
"You are awake," she said finally, her tone sharp but tinged with relief. She didn't look at him, focusing instead on smearing the crushed herbs onto a strip of cloth.
Brandy tried to sit up, groaning. "How long… was I out?"
"Two days," she replied curtly, standing and pressing the cloth against his wound. He flinched. "Don't move. You'll tear it open again."
He clenched his jaw, watching her as she worked. She avoided his gaze, her hands steady, her expression unreadable.
"You didn't have to stay," he muttered.
Her eyes flicked to his, sharp and almost offended. "Of course I did. What was I supposed to do? Leave you to die in the forest like some animal?"
He turned his face away, shame prickling at his chest. The word animal hit deeper than she realized.
For a while, silence hung between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire.
Finally, Brandy spoke. "You saw, didn't you? What I am."
Alisa paused, her hands stilling against the bandage. Slowly, she sat back. Her gaze softened just slightly. "I saw… something. But I don't know what it means. And I don't think you do either."
His fists clenched in the blanket. "I am not human. I don't fit. My parents tried to hide it, but I know they saw it too. I am… wrong."
"No," she said firmly, her voice breaking through his bitterness. "You're not wrong. You're just… different. So am I."
He looked at her, confused. She hesitated, then sighed. "I do not remember where I came from. I do not know who my real parents are. I just know I woke up here one day, in this forest. I do not belong anywhere either."
For the first time, Brandy saw the weight behind her eyes, the loneliness she carried. It struck him unexpectedly, pulling at something inside his chest.
"Maybe…" he began, then stopped, shaking his head. "Maybe we are both mistakes."
Alisa's expression hardened instantly, her warmth shuttering away. She stood quickly, turning her back to him. "Speak for yourself."
He bit back a retort, shame and anger mixing in his throat. The fragile connection between them cracked, giving way to silence.
The next few days were tense. They spoke little, and when they did, it was with sharp words and stubborn tones. Yet despite their supposed hatred, Alisa still brought him food, still checked his bandages. And Brandy, though bitter, still found himself watching her when she was not looking, curious and unsettled by the way her presence filled the hut.
On the fourth night, it happened.
A howl split the silence of the forest, long and mournful, echoing through the trees. It wasn't like the howl of the rogue. This was sharper, layered with command.
Alisa froze instantly, her head snapping toward the sound. Her eyes widened with horror. "They have found you."
Brandy pushed himself up, his blood running cold. "What, who?"
"The pack," she whispered. Her voice trembled, though her hands balled into fists. "They are coming for you."
As if to confirm it, more howls joined the first, closing in from different directions. The forest was alive with the hunt.
Brandy staggered to his feet, panic surging through him. "I can't, I can't fight them all…"
"Then don't," Alisa snapped, grabbing his arm. "We have to run…"
But before either could move, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
Brandy's heart stopped.
The woman was cloaked in black, her hair streaked with silver, her face scarred but strong. Her eyes, green, fierce, and piercing.. locked onto him.
For a moment, he could not breathe. He knew her, though he had no memory to explain why.
"Mother…" The word slipped from his lips in a broken whisper.
Alisa gasped, turning toward the stranger in shock. "What…?"
The woman stepped closer, her gaze softening only slightly. "Brandy." Her voice was low, urgent, heavy with the weight of years. "There is no time. We must go."
Eloise, his mother. The Omega who had vanished into the shadows of legend was standing before him.
Alisa looked between them, confusion and disbelief flooding her face. But before she could speak, Eloise moved swiftly, pulling them both toward the forest's hidden paths.
The howls grew closer. The hunters were nearly upon them.
And for the first time in his life, Brandy was running not from fear, but from destiny guided by the hand of the mother he thought he had lost forever.