Chapter 1 - THE ASHES OF THE RIVERLANDS
Far to the south of Castle Dunbarton, within the manicured estates of the Riverlands, panic was spreading like a creeping wildfire.
Alpha Tristan Caldwell paced across the polished marble floor of his grand audience hall, his heavy boots echoing with a hollow, frantic rhythm. Outside, the once-bountiful rivers that fed his pack’s lands were no longer sparkling blue. They had turned an unnatural, thick shade of obsidian black, bubbling with a foul, sulfurous stench that drove the pack’s hunting wolves insane.
"Explain this to me again," Tristan snarled, stopping to glare at his head advisor, Master Caelum, an elderly scholar whose hands trembled as he clutched an ancient, leather-bound volume.
"My Alpha," Caelum gasped, struggling to catch his breath. "I-I didn’t believe the texts until the water turned. The violet marks you saw on Isolda’s skin… they were not a disease. They were the dormant royal insignia of the ancient Valoria bloodline—the true rulers of the continent before the northern expansion."
Tristan’s face drained of color. "That’s a myth. Valoria fell a thousand years ago. Their royal line was exterminated."
"Not entirely," Caelum corrected, pointing a shaking finger at a faded parchment page inside the tome. "The female line survived in secret, hiding among common packs as low-ranking Omegas to escape eradication. And the Moon Goddess binds the true power of Valoria to the fated mate of their choosing. When you rejected her… when you humiliated her and sold her for three silver coins… you broke the sacred covenant."
Lady Rowena, who had been lounging lazily on a velvet divan draped in silk, scoffed and tossed a cluster of grapes into her mouth. "Oh, stop being dramatic, old man. She was a dirty orphan with mud on her hem. Who cares about some dead royal family? Tristan is an Alpha, and we have an alliance coming. The soldiers are what matter."
"Quiet, Rowena!" Tristan roared, his wolf scratching furiously at the back of his consciousness, screaming in terror. The mate bond hadn't just broken; it was violently rotting away, taking the pack's fertility, crops, and strength with it. The winter wheat in the fields had withered into gray dust overnight.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the hall blew inward with a deafening crash. A scout stumbled inside, covered in dust, blood, and frost.
"Alpha!" the scout screamed, collapsing onto the stone floor. "A-A raven from the North. King Cedric... The Iron Wolf. He knows everything."
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Tristan’s heart hammered against his ribs. "What does he want?"
The scout looked up, terror glazing his eyes. "He isn't sending demands, Alpha. He is marching. And he brought an army."
