The Alpha of the 13th District

"No..." Kiera suddenly pulled away in fear.

She fell backward. Clutched her chest. Her lips parted.

"What lives inside you, Asher?"

He didn't answer.

But the blue fire between them began to darken.

The flames didn't just dim they hissed, like a serpent exhaling between clenched teeth.

And inside the fire, the same smile she saw in his eye danced taunting, watching.

Asher didn't answer right away.

He just sat there in the shadow of the altar, back against the wall, eyes lowered.

He couldn't look at Kiera.

Her question echoed inside him like a curse.

What lives inside you, Asher?

Of all the wars and wounds, this was the one question he never wanted to answer.

Kiera remained kneeling near the altar, trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the truth approaching.

The light from the fire was nearly gone only a weak ember exhaling blue glow.

And finally, Asher whispered.

"I was the only survivor, Kiera... because something inside me made sure of it."

The world stopped.

It was like all the air in the sanctuary vanished.

Kiera couldn't move.

It was as if her own emotions choked her fear, pity, and an unexplainable anger.

The image returnedof the massacre report. Asher Navarro. Age: 10. Sole survivor.

But it wasn't just that he was spared.

Something killed for him. And it wasn't human. Wasn't wolf. And might not even be Asher.

"Did you let it in...?" Kiera asked, voice fragile. "Or was it always there?"

Asher looked up at her. Only now did he lift his gaze.

His eyes dim still gold, but at the edges, a ring of violet swirled. As if something was trying to peer out from the depths.

"I don't know. I don't remember letting it in. I just remember waking up in blood. But my hands were clean.

And my mother's voice still echoing but no body. And my shadow, it wasn't mine anymore."

Kiera's skin prickled. Not from the cold. But from everything he just said.

How do you love someone who might not be human anymore? And how do you love a soul that shares its breath with a monster?

Asher quietly stood.

Moonlight on his skin no longer reflected. As if the light itself was rejecting him.

"You should sleep far from me tonight," he whispered.

No anger. No command.

Just a plea. A warning.

Darkness was clinging to his back.

It wasn't smoke. Not shadow.

It was a thing that breathed. That lived.

Kiera took a step back. She still wasn't sure whether to run or move closer.

Suddenly, the temple doors slammed shut. By themselves. No wind. No hands. But the force was enough to shake the walls.

Kiera stepped back. She didn't scream. Didn't run. But her heartpounded like a war drum.

Asher looked around. He wasn't surprised. It was like he expected it.

He turned to her, straight into her eyes. "It doesn't like being seen. It remembers what the light did to it."

A single tear fell from Kiera.

Only one.

But enough to drench the night in weight.

"Then what are you, Asher?" she asked.

Silence.

And from the edge of the altar, he spoke softly, nearly inaudible.

"Something that should have died with me a long time ago."

From the corner of the sanctuary, a shadow crept forward.

Not fast. Not slow.

But like it had legs of its own. A fury of its own.

Kiera stared at it.

And it stared back.

In the heart of the Wyrm Forest, there was a sacred clearing.

The air was thick with cold mist and stars that seemed to have descended to the earth. In the center, a circle of ancient stones pulsed with life.

Kiera didn't know if she was awake or dreaming.

The wind felt strange-like something was pulling her. Not heavy, not violent.

It was a call

A whisper of ancient blood.

She walked, alone, unarmed, unafraid.

With every step, the mist swelled.

It was as if the forest parted just to let her through. The trees didn't sway with the wind, but with her presence. And when she reached the clearing, the world fell still.

The stones were arranged in a circle, resembling an altar of the old races.

One by one, they glowed a faint blue as she approached.

In the center of that circle stood a figure-a woman.

Shrouded in silver. Bones hanging from her neck.

A veil covered her eyes. She did not move. She did not speak.

But Kiera could feel her gaze.

"You felt it, didn't you? The bond shifted. It woke the prophecy."

She wasn't human.

Nor wolf.

She was a sentinel of the old world.

"Why are you telling me this?" Kiera asked, voice trembling despite her efforts. "What prophecy? Why am I here?"

The Priestess was silent for a moment.

She looked to the sky, as if listening to the stars, before she spoke again.

"The Eclipse Prophecy has been triggered. The universe demands balance-either Asher dies... or you rise as Queen of Ruin."

It felt like a fist slammed into Kiera's soul.

She staggered backward, but didn't cry. She wouldn't. She wasn't ready.

But fate never asks if you're ready before it arrives.

"No," she whispered. "There must be another way-why must I choose?"

The Priestess looked at her.

At last, she moved.

She walked forward, slow, almost floating.

"There is no mercy in the old laws. There is only order... and chaos. And you, child of Alpha and death, are where they meet."

Kiera didn't know if she should believe her.

But a part of her soul-connected to the stars, to the old, to the blood-screamed yes.

"You said, the prophecy was triggered?" she asked, taking a deep breath. "But it didn't start with us, did it?"

The Priestess fell silent again.

She stopped before an old, cracked stone.

From her robes, she drew a locket-its edges burned, a red gem at its center.

"No. It began with Lysandra. And it ended in ash."

Kiera's heart pounded.

Lysandra-the first marked Queen.

The girl erased from the archives.

The one who chose the crown and destroyed her mate.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Kiera asked, her voice beginning to crack. "Why me?"

"Because the sky is changing. Because the moon is watching. Because you are the first in a hundred years whose soul burned back."

Suddenly, the ground shook.

The wind spun around the clearing, in circles-like a sentient storm.

The stones ignited.

The blue light turned silver.

Roots crawled across the ground, etching runes she did not know but somehow understood.

And in the midst of the chaos, the Priestess looked at her.

Her veil lifted in the wind-and beneath it, her eyes.

No white.

No black.

Only stars.

"Your mark will choose for you."

And in an instant-she vanished.

Along with the rain of silver light, mist, and silence.

When the eclipse comes, Alpha... you'll have to choose: your crown or his life.

Kiera's chambers, just before sunrise.

Around her, candles, old spellbooks, and knives yet to be washed.

Outside, the wind stirred-not cold, but full of warning.

Kiera woke as if drowning.

Gasping, drenched in sweat, barely able to breathe.

Her bed was soaked in dew, though the windows were shut. The air in her room was heavy, pressing on her chest.

And in her mind-the voice of the Priestess still echoed.

Your mark will choose for you..

She sat up abruptly.

Touched her shoulders, her arm, her neck. She was looking for something she didn't yet know.

Until she pulled aside her cloak-and saw it.

Her skin... was changing.

Across her collarbone, where a tiny star shaped birthmark had always been.

It now glowed.

It pulsed.

As if it were alive.

And as she watched, it began to lengthen-shifting into a crescent. A circle. A line through its center, like an eclipse. Like the exact lunar crest carved into the oldest temples.

Marks don't change... not unless fate claims you.

That's what the Elders once said.

And now-her skin itself seemed to tell her fate had already taken hold.

She stood at once. Ran to her desk.

Snatched an old spellbook she had taken from Asher's library.

She flipped through the pages, searching for the symbol.

And when she found it-the world stopped.

There it was, drawn on a page titled:

The Queen of Ruin - Mark of the Chosen Eclipse.

And beneath it, in tiny letters: She who bears this crest shall shatter bloodlines and remake the world in ash.

"No..." Kiera whispered, terrified.

She immediately covered the mark. Wrapped it in cloth. Pressed her palm over it.

"This isn't real."

Her palm burned at once.

She stumbled back.

Cried out.

The candle fell.

Her old robe caught fire-and the mark revealed itself again.

Brighter. More alive. Its roots deeper.

It burns when she lies.

And the worst part? It grew each time she chose to hide.

Kiera dropped to her knees beside her bed.

Clutching her chest, her hands trembling.

She didn't know how to tell Asher.

How do you confess to the man you're falling in love with that you are the curse that shattered his world?

She stood slowly.

Approached the mirror in the corner of the room. Her face was hollow, shadowed by sorrow. Her eyes seemed deeper.

Not red. Not gold. But light clung to the edges-silver.

She looked at herself.

And when she blinked-her reflection smiled.

But it wasn't her. The smile wasn't kind.

It was the smile of a queen.

A queen unafraid.

A queen who didn't beg.

A queen who didn't hold back.

This isn't just your fate, Kiera... it's your inheritance...

Evercrest Forest clearing, midnight.

The wolves stood around her-silent but alert.

Above, a storm moved in unnatural patterns. No thunder-but the silence was like the sky screaming.

Kiera's steps were slow.

She could barely feel the ground beneath her feet.

The mark on her shoulder still burned, like a fire that refused to die.

She drew a deep breath, but even the air tasted like iron.

"Just a quiet walk," she whispered to herself. "I just need to breathe."

But deep in her heart, she knew-she would never breathe normally again.

When she reached the clearing, she froze.

The wolves around her were on high alert, but not a sound escaped them.

It was as if they were listening to something. Sensing something-but they didn't know what.

Kiera looked up at the sky.

No stars. No moon.

Until slowly, from behind the clouds, a blood colored circle began to emerge.

"It wasn't supposed to come yet..." she murmured, voice trembling. "Why is it here now?"

It was supposed to be a week away.

A week before the prophecy.

A week more to prepare.

But it was already here.

And if she was right-it was her fault.

The mark on her skin flared again-like it was answering the moon.

The veins beneath her flesh reacted, shifting like they had a will of their own.

The prophecy isn't waiting anymore.

Because it isn't being stopped.

It's being fed.

She remembered the Priestess's words: You'll have to choose: your crown or his life

But what if it was already too late?

What if her bond with Asher wasn't strengthening their love-but hastening their ruin?

Kiera dropped to her knees in the grass, barely able to breathe.

The moonlight didn't glow-it bled across her skin. And between her vision and the forest-a shadow passed.

She stood instantly.

Eyes locked on the trees.

"Asher...?" she called.

No reply.

Her heart pounded-heavy.

Something was coming.

From behind the tree line, a woman emerged.

Long silver hair, like clouds in the night.

She wore a black cloak embroidered with ancient symbols-none of which were found in any book.

And beneath the hood, she smiled.

Lysandra.

The Queen of the Burned.

The first.

The one who was chosen before.

The one the world brought down.

Kiera took a step back.

Not out of fear-but because she felt it.

They were alike.

Not just in face.

Not just in the mark.

But in fate.

"You feel it now, don't you?" Lysandra asked softly, lifting her gaze to the sky.

"The throne isn't waiting. Some thrones are not taken. They rise-when the old world dies..."

The wind roared.

The wolves around them began to growl.

Some backed away. Others dropped to the ground.

Not because of Kiera.

But because of the blood in the sky.

Lysandra stepped forward.

"Your trials are over, Kiera. The final one begins tonight."

And behind her-the forest caught fire.