Chapter 4 - The Shattered Window
The celebration lasted mere seconds.
Before the first murmur of awe could evolve into applause, the air pressure in the grand hall violently shifted. A high-pitched whistle cut through the silence—sharp, piercing, and deadly.
CRASH!
One of the massive stained-glass windows overlooking the courtyard shattered into a thousand glittering shards.
Before anyone could react, a heavy black arrow hurtled through the opening with terrifying velocity, burying itself deep into the solid oak of the royal throne behind the king. The impact splintered the wood, sending dust and splinters raining down onto the dais.
Darian reacted on pure instinct. In a fraction of a second, his body shifted, wrapping entirely around Genevieve to shield her from any lingering glass or secondary projectiles. His broad back faced the broken window, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his sword.
"Guards!" Darian roared, his voice vibrating with lethal fury.
Dozen of royal guards swarmed the dais, their armor clanking as they formed an impenetrable defensive wall around the king and Genevieve.
Genevieve clutched the heavy silver pendant at her neck, her crimson eyes wide with terror as she stared at the arrow protruding from the throne. Tied tightly around its shaft was a scrap of rough leather, stained with a dark, dripping crimson fluid.
Lord Vane, stepping cautiously forward past the panicking nobles, reached up and plucked the message from the arrow, his face pale. He unrolled the leather and read the words aloud, his voice trembling:
"Choose the albino... ...and your kingdom dies."
The great hall erupted into absolute chaos. Noblewomen screamed, lords shouted for their weapons, and the delicate harmony of the Solstice Banquet dissolved into a panic-stricken mob.
Before Darian could order the hall cleared, heavy double doors at the main entrance burst open. A senior royal scout, his leather armor caked in mud and crusted snow, rushed into the hall, stumbling desperately toward the dais before dropping to one knee.
"My King!" the scout gasped, his chest heaving as he fought for air. "We’ve been betrayed from within!"
Darian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his hand still resting on his sword hilt. "Speak, scout. What has happened?"
"Three rival Alpha armies—the Ironfang, the Bloodmoon, and the Frostvale coalitions—have simultaneously crossed our northern border!" the scout reported, his voice cracking with urgency. "They bypassed the outer patrol posts in minutes. They are marching on the capital, and their commanders have sent a unified decree..."
The scout paused, casting a nervous, fearful glance toward Genevieve.
"Finish your report," Darian commanded coldly.
"They refuse to recognize the new Queen," the scout whispered, the words heavy with impending doom. "They declare the crown forfeited by your choice, and they demand the albino Omega be handed over to them immediately, or they will burn every village between here and the mountains to ash."
Silence fell over the hall once more, heavier and deadlier than before.
Darian slowly drew his sword from its scabbard. The blade gleamed with a cold, unforgiving light under the shattered chandeliers. But for all the lethal power radiating from the Alpha King, his greatest concern wasn't the approaching armies, or the traitorous nobles whispering in the corners.
It was the pale, shaking woman standing right beside him.
Because hidden deep within the restricted vaults of the royal archives—a secret Darian had kept locked away since his ascension—lay an ancient prophecy. A prophecy written in the blood of the first kings, speaking of an albino Luna whose sudden appearance would either unite every divided wolf kingdom under one eternal peace... or plunge the world into the bloodiest war in history.
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The prophecy had begun.
And no one—not even the Alpha King—knew which future awaited them.
