Bound by Blood, Betrayed by Fate

They say when a werewolf’s fur turns blood red, it means the creature has sold its soul to a demon.

There is no redemption after that—no mercy, no light. Only vengeance. Its heart and soul become stained by darkness, and no one—not the Moon, not fate—can save it from its own despair.

When the blood-red wolf appears, even the brave forget how to fight. Packs fall to their knees. Some run. Others pray. No one dares block its path.

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*

*

That night, the storm didn’t stop.

Thunder rolled across the mountains like distant war drums. Lightning flashed again and again, turning the sky white for moments at a time. Wind tore through the broken towers and howled through shattered windows. Rain poured hard enough to drown out footsteps, but not screams.

The castle groaned under the weight of war.

A man ran through one of the main corridors, carrying a woman in his arms. Blood covered one side of his body, some of it fresh. His breathing was uneven. Behind him, older wolves rushed to keep up. Their eyes darted between the shadows, filled with fear.

“This way,” one of them said. “Hurry.”

“She’s coming,” another muttered. “We don’t have much time.”

The woman in the man’s arms clung to him tightly. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Please… don’t leave me…”

He didn’t speak. His grip only tightened. His eyes stayed forward. His jaw locked like it hurt to hear her voice.

When they reached the end of the hall, a younger wolf waited—eyes wide, arms ready. The man handed the woman over without a word.

“Take her,” he said. “Run. I’ll follow after I end this.”

“No! Don’t leave me alone!” the woman cried, reaching for him again.

But he was already gone.

He moved quickly. His claws were already out, slick with blood. He met no hesitation in the enemies ahead—he didn’t need it. Every step forward left another body behind. He didn’t waste movement. He didn’t speak. He didn’t pause.

Claws to the throat. To the heart. To the spine.

They fell one by one. Some didn’t even get the chance to scream.

The air smelled like metal and fire. His feet splashed through pools of blood. A body slumped against the wall with a broken neck. He didn’t look down. His eyes were fixed ahead.

Then something whistled through the chaos.

A silver arrow struck his back.

He grunted. The pain was immediate. He dropped to one knee, just for a second. The silver burned hot, searing through skin and muscle. His jaw clenched as he pushed himself up.

His breath grew shallow. His limbs slowed. But he didn’t stop.

Then, in the next moment, he felt it.

A blade pressed against the side of his throat. Sharp. Cold. Silver.

He froze.

“You’re lucky,” a voice said behind him. Calm. Cold. Familiar. “I missed your heart.”

The voice made something inside him stop.

He didn’t move. His heart was beating faster than before. Not from fear, but from recognition. His breath caught in his throat.

“You…” he whispered.

He turned slightly, but the blade pressed deeper.

“Don’t look at me,” the voice warned. “Don’t you dare look at me.”

He stopped moving. His hands twitched. His shoulders tensed.

“Is it really you?” he asked.

“I’ve waited for this,” she answered. “The day I kill you.”

There was a pause. Short. Heavy.

His hand moved slowly. He reached for the blade, even though it burned. Blood slipped down his fingers as he wrapped his hand around the silver and turned.

She stood in front of him.

A mask covered her face. A dark cloak wrapped around her. Her posture was still, but her presence filled the space. She didn’t breathe like the others. She didn’t shake. She didn’t blink.

He stared.

A gust of wind blew in through a broken window. Her hood slipped back.

Red.

Her hair was blood red.

His chest tightened. His breath caught.

“Blood-red… hair…”

Her voice was steady. “This is the day you die.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

His voice lowered. “Do you really want my life?”

Her fingers curled tighter around the blade. “I wake up every day just to take it.”

His hand trembled. He pushed the blade closer to his neck. Blood dripped to the floor.

“Then do it,” he said.

She didn’t move.

“Kill me.”

Still nothing.

He looked at her. Not with anger. Not with pride. Just something quiet. Something tired.

“Kill me.”

“Beg for your life,” she snapped. Her voice cracked, but her grip stayed firm. “Beg, you fool!”

He didn’t flinch. “No. My life is yours.”

Then—

Everything stopped.

No footsteps echoed. No cries rose. No blades clashed in the distance.

Even the storm seemed to wait.

The castle held its breath.

And she did, too.

CELESTINE

“The Alpha is coming back!”

Olivia, the head maiden of the Northern Castle, burst into my chambers. “Luna, the Alpha is coming back.”

I placed the book I was reading beside me on the bed and looked at her slowly. “Is it real this time?” I asked, my voice low and hesitant.

She smiled. “Yes. I believe it is.”

A smile crept onto my face. I couldn’t help it. My heart raced, and my hands trembled. Finally, he was coming back.

The last time I saw him was six months ago. He left the continent for werewolf matters—a territorial dispute. Packs invade the weak to gain numbers. That’s how it has always been.

I offered to go with him, but he refused. He said the journey would be long and rough. He told me to stay behind and wait.

So I did.

I waited every day. I woke up thinking about him and went to sleep wondering where he was. News of his return would come, only to turn out false. Still, I never stopped w