To save her pack from famine and war, Elyara is sold by her father to the most feared Alpha in the territory: Ravenn, the Lord of Ash. Feared and respected, Ravenn does not take a wife out of love, but out of duty. To him, Elyara is just an offering, one more piece in his kingdom of ice and blood. Torn between her father's betrayal and fear of her future, Elyara swears never to submit. But Ravenn is a ruthless Alpha, a king among beasts, and he has never tolerated disobedience. In an isolated castle, surrounded by wolves who do not all want her well, Elyara discovers a world much darker and crueler than she had imagined. Yet, beneath the tyrant's armor, she glimpses flaws... and a burning desire that consumes her as much as it terrifies her. Over the moons, fear turns into fascination, hatred into passion. But can you love a monster without becoming its own? When an old enemy resurfaces, Elyara will have to choose: flee and regain her freedom... or embrace her destiny alongside the Alpha.
Chapter 1 Chapitre 1
The Offering
The clamor of boots pounding the hard ground echoed in the cold morning air. Elyara, wide-eyed and heart pounding, was dragged against her will by a horde of closed-faced warriors. Their weapons gleamed in the pale light of day, and their gazes, impassive, betrayed an implacable determination. The icy wind stirred up plumes of dust around her, as if fate itself wanted to mask the horror of the moment. "Don't scream," one of them ordered hoarsely, his words lost in the vast silence that followed their steps. Elyara, wrapped in a cloak too heavy to protect her, could only obey, her legs seeming to sink into ground she had never imagined trodden by despair.
"Let go," a low, almost complicit voice whispered, but there was no comfort or hope in that whisper. The chains that bound her wrists snapped with each step, reminding the young woman of her condition as a captive. Their faces, masked by scars and ancestral tattoos, left no room for pity. A heavy heaviness settled in her stomach, mixed with terror and revolt. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as the horizon inexorably approached an isolated castle, a place of legends and fear.
As she entered the great hall of the estate, the atmosphere changed completely. The room, with its stone walls and flickering torches, seemed to hold the secrets of entire generations. A heavy silence reigned there, interrupted only by the steady sound of her forced footsteps. At the end of the room, on a throne carved in stone, stood Ravenn, the Alpha. His imposing silhouette dominated the space, wrapped in an aura that was both mysterious and fearsome. His eyes, a bitter gray, rested on Elyara with a coldness that made the assembly shiver.
"Here is the offering," he said in a deep voice, echoing like a knell in the vast hall. The sound of his words seemed to seal an unspoken pact between fate and Elyara's suffering. She barely dared raise her eyes to look at him, so paralyzed was the mixture of fear and inner defiance. "You are mine," he added in a tone both hard and solemn, his piercing gaze piercing the captive's soul. In that precise moment, time seemed suspended; the rattle of the chains and Elyara's panting breath mingled with the echo of Ravenn's voice.
The silence was broken by one of the guards, who stepped forward to prepare the ancestral ritual that would seal their shared destiny. The murmurs of ancient rites could be heard, like a forgotten incantation still alive in the veins of the castle. The atmosphere took on an oppressive mysticism, where each stone seemed imbued with the memories of a violent past. Black candles were lit, and in the center of a circle drawn on the ground, an ancient dagger was placed, its sinister glow illuminating Elyara's face.
"You will be the offering," a dark-robed priest said, his voice trembling with a solemnity that frightened as much as it captivated. "Through this ritual, your soul is bound to that of the Alpha, so that you can never escape the destiny that is reserved for you." Elyara tried to protest, her eyes shining with a defiant glint despite the fear that gripped her. "No, I don't want to..." she stammered, but her voice was lost in the din of fate.
Ravenn stepped forward, his measured steps echoing through the great hall. He stopped before her, his features set in an implacable authority. "Fate is not to be fought," he whispered, almost unexpectedly gentle, "and you will learn to accept it, even if it is not out of love." His eyes hardened, and Elyara's face hardened as well, like a flame that refuses to be extinguished despite the storm.
The murmurs of the guests died down as the priest began the ancient ceremony. Mysterious symbols were inscribed on the ground, forming a sacred circle, and the air took on an almost palpable tension. Hands shaking, Elyara was forced to stand in the center of the circle, her eyes fixed on the intruder who would seal their union. The dagger, made of metal blackened by time, was raised, its eerie reflections playing on the stone walls.
"By the blood of the ancients, by the will of fate, let this union be sealed," the priest spoke in a litany that sounded like a condemnation. With a theatrical gesture, Ravenn grabbed Elyara's hand, and their fingers brushed in icy contact. The young woman felt an electric shock, a painful fusion of two opposing souls that found themselves inexorably linked by the ritual.
The guests held their breath, captivated by the scene unfolding before their eyes. The din of fate seemed to grow louder with every word, every gesture, as if the entire universe were conspiring to make this moment indelible. Ravenn, his face impassive, continued in a low but terribly authoritarian voice: "From this moment on, you will be nothing more than a reflection of my will, an integral part of my destiny." His words, cold and sharp, resonated in Elyara's heart, causing a tumult of revolt and resignation to arise within her.
"I am not yours," she whispered softly, almost inaudible, her eyes shining with a defiant glint despite the pain of this forced submission. But fate, implacable, mocked her protests. The priest, with the solemnity of a supreme judge, incised a mark on Elyara's wrist, an ancient symbol etched in blood ink. This symbolic gesture sealed their union, binding their destinies with an invisible and inescapable thread. The mark pulsed beneath Elyara's skin, a fiery burn that foreshadowed future torments.
In Ravenn's gaze there was that cold determination, a promise of relentless conquest. "You are mine," he repeated, not as a caress but as an inescapable sentence. The entire room seemed to close in around them, the murmur of the guests turning into a chorus of silent judgments. Elyara felt her mind waver between the shadow of a bygone past and the incandescent light of an unknown future, filled with suffering and thwarted passions.
In the middle of this ceremony, a suspended moment marked the meeting of their eyes. In the abyss of Ravenn's pupils, Elyara saw reflected the image of a man at war with himself, a being shaped by brutality and ancestral traditions. "You will understand, one day," he said in a softer voice, almost hesitant, as if he wanted to justify this cruel fate. But his words were swept away by the din of the ritual, which imposed its law without appeal.
The priest, concluding the ceremony with a final solemn gesture, closed the circle by drawing a line of blood on the ground, symbolizing their eternal union. A shudder ran through the assembly, and in an emotional silence, everyone seemed to realize the magnitude of the destiny that had just been sealed. Elyara, despite the pain and fear, straightened slightly, her eyes shining with a fierce glint of defiance. She knew she had to draw on this inner strength, even if the bond that now united her to Ravenn was built on foundations of suffering and constraints.
"You are now bound to me for eternity," Ravenn said, her tone implacable in contrast to the fleeting glimmer of humanity that had crossed her eyes moments before. A shiver ran through the room, as if the very stone of the castle remembered ancient oaths and intertwined destinies. The warriors who had brought Elyara now regarded her with a sort of fearful respect, knowing that the future was now inextricably linked to this ritual act.
In a hushed whisper, one of the guards exclaimed, "May fate be kind to us, Alpha." The words, filled with uncertain hope, echoed like a prayer in the vast silence of the great hall. Elyara, though terrified, felt a spark of rebellion rise within her. She understood that, despite the invisible chain that had just chained her to Ravenn, there was still a part of her will, a spark that could one day turn into fire. This fire, perhaps, would be capable of overthrowing the established order and redefining the very meaning of this union.
For a moment, Ravenn's gaze softened, and his eyes seemed to search Elyara's soul, searching for weakness, hope, or a sign of total submission. "You are beautiful, even in pain," he murmured, as if trying to carve out a justification for this union imposed by the law of blood and tradition. But his words, far from soothing Elyara's inner torments, only amplified the tumult of her emotions. The tension rose a notch, the air charged with the electricity of an inescapable and inevitable destiny.
The priest, having completed his task, gently withdrew the dagger, as the last echoes of the ritual dissipated in the atmosphere saturated with emotion. Silence fell upon the great hall, heavy with meaning and broken promises. Elyara, her eyes misted with tears she refused to shed, stood silently before the Alpha, ready to face the future with a determination she did not yet know she had. The bond was sealed, the offering accepted by fate itself, and now, every beat of her heart was a silent rebellion against the order imposed by tradition.
Thus, in the tumult of chains, glances, and oaths, the ceremony ended without any consolation to soften the harshness of fate. Elyara and Ravenn stood face to face, bound by an ancient and merciless pact, the beginning of a story whose pages, already tinged with pain and passion, promised inevitable tumult. The heavy door of fate closed behind them, taking with it the last vestiges of a life that would now be nothing more than a distant echo of freedom.
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