POV: Rogue King – Xalor
"They've captured her," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
"My little wolf… I can't wait to have her in my arms."
King Xalor stood by the massive window of his fortress tower, eyes glowing blood-red as the Blood Moon neared its zenith in the night sky. His long black cloak billowed as he turned, boots echoing against the cold stone floor.
Every beat of his heart was in sync with the prophecy that haunted his bloodline for centuries.
The White Wolf.
The one born under the Blood Moon, kissed by Selene's divine essence.She would either be his destruction… or his salvation.
And now… she was here.
He didn't waste another moment. With a flick of his cloak, he descended the tower steps and strode toward the dungeons where the girls were kept—his gait quick, like a predator drawn to the scent of blood.
Torches flickered as he passed through the dark stone corridors, each step fueling the anticipation in his chest.
The iron door creaked open.
The room was thick with despair.
Dozens of girls were chained, slumped, unconscious or barely moving. The air reeked of sweat, fear, and silver-burned skin.
Xalor's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Wake them."
His guards bowed and quickly moved to obey, splashing cold water, shaking shoulders, snapping fingers.
Cries erupted.
Some whimpered. Some begged. Others screamed.
How pathetic.
He let his gaze sweep over them. One by one.
First girl:Tall. Pale skin. Auburn hair. Pretty enough, but her eyes were dull, lifeless. Not the fire he sought.
Second:Small, shaking uncontrollably, her lips murmuring prayers. He scoffed.
Third:Confident posture despite the chains. Hazel eyes locked with his defiantly. He stepped closer, intrigued. But… no. No glow. No burn.
Fourth:A healer's daughter. Her aura was warm, peaceful… too peaceful.
He kept moving.
Each one he inspected personally, the air thick with the choking smell of silver and hopelessness.
Then—he paused.
A girl at the far end.
Chestnut hair curled around her shoulders. Her eyes, a golden brown… almost flickered.
"She glows," he muttered.
His wolf stirred in interest.
"Unchain her. Let her stand," he ordered, eyes never leaving her face.
Two guards rushed to obey. As she stood, unsteady but proud, he stepped closer. He cupped her chin, stared into her eyes.
For a heartbeat, he believed she might be the one.
But no.
No flame. No fury. No Selene.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her like a broken toy. "She's not the one."
Then—
A shift in the air.
Like lightning before a storm.
His eyes swept the room—until they landed on her.
Hunched. Quiet. Pale. Chained like the rest. But her very presence radiated danger.
She didn't glow gold.
She burned red.
Even at her lowest, her aura pulsed like a heartbeat of raw power.
He took one slow step toward her.
Then another.
Girls moved away instinctively, sensing the shift.
When he reached her, he knelt. His cold fingers tilted her face up.
And then he saw them.
The eyes.
Gold flecked with crimson.
A storm trapped in glass.
Aira Moonstone.
"I have been waiting for you," he whispered, voice reverent, chilling.
"…little wolf."