The Blood Oath of Draevenmoor presents the story of Velmirae, the sole survivor of a tragic massacre, who discovers her identity as the exiled Lycan princess bound by a forbidden Blood Oath. As she is relentlessly pursued by foes and especially Kaelthorn, a formidable Alpha determined to protect her, Velmirae must master the burgeoning beast within her before it devours all that she is, including her very essence. When the true adversary, Orzian, steps into the light, Velmirae confronts an excruciating dilemma: to resist her destined fate or to accept the monstrous identity that awaits her. This narrative weaves a dark, exhilarating tapestry of werewolf fantasy, rife with treachery, illicit power, and a covenant that may either rescue or condemn them all.
Chapter 1 The Massacre of Draevenmoor
(Velmirae's POV)
The aroma of blood lingered heavily in the atmosphere, enveloping it with a suffocating density. It imparted a metallic flavor to my tongue, evoking a visceral reaction that made the body instinctively withdraw. The first scream had shattered the quiet night, tearing through Draevenmoor like a wounded beast, and now the entire village was drowning in its own horror.
I ran.
Bare feet slamming against the damp earth, I stumbled through the maze of burning huts and slaughtered bodies. The moon, large and imposing, observed from the sky, illuminating the scene with an unsettling silver light that enveloped the chaos. Shadows shifted among the flames-massive, unnatural figures with luminous eyes and exposed teeth.
Wolves.
Not the wild kind that roamed the forests. No, these creatures walked on two legs, their limbs twisted with unnatural strength, their mouths dripping crimson as they tore through my people.
I couldn't stop running. I could not afford to look back.
My heart raced intensely, to the point where I felt it might burst, yet the fear propelled me forward. Suddenly, a child's cry pierced the air-a boy, no older than seven, was crawling away from the shattered remains of his mother. A menacing creature hovered above him, its breath visible in the cold night air.. I lunged without thinking, grabbing the closest weapon-a fallen torch-and swung it wildly.
The flame caught the creature's fur, and it let out a guttural snarl, retreating just enough for me to grab the child's wrist.
"Run!" I gasped, shoving him toward the forest's edge.
He hesitated for only a second before vanishing into the dark, his sobs swallowed by the chaos.
A snarl vibrated behind me.
Slowly, I turned.
The werewolf was massive, taller than any man, its black fur sleek under the fire's glow. Clawed hands twitched at its sides, ready to rip me apart, but... it didn't move. Its head tilted slightly as if confused. Its nostrils flared, sniffing the air between us.
And then it backed away.
My breath was momentarily taken away. What was the reason behind it?
The creature paused for just a moment longer before tilting its head back and emitting a howl-a chilling and guttural sound that sent a shiver through the other beings. The wolves froze mid-slaughter, their glowing eyes snapping toward me.
Then, just as suddenly as they had come...
They left.
The grotesque shapes faded into the darkness, vanishing beyond the trees as though they had never existed. The silence that followed was worse than the screams.
I dropped to my knees. My hands, my clothes-everything was soaked in blood. But I was untouched.
Why?
The question burned in my skull, but before I could process it, I heard them.
Footsteps.
Not rushed like the others, not the mindless stampede of beasts. These were slow. Purposeful.
A figure emerged through the haze of smoke and death.
A man-if he could even be called that.
He was tall, his presence suffocating, with eyes like molten silver that pierced through the darkness. Black armor clung to his broad frame, and his movements carried the unnatural grace of a predator.
Something in my bones recognized him before my mind did.
"Take her," he ordered.
The world tilted as rough hands grabbed me.
Then, everything went black.
(Kaelthorn's POV)
She smelled wrong.
I stood over the girl as my wolves dragged her from the carnage, her unconscious body limp in their grasp. She was human-she looked human-but the scent curling off her skin said otherwise.
I had ordered the village to be razed, every last soul put to the sword, and yet... she was still breathing.
Something had stopped my wolves from killing her.
The mark, I realized.
I stepped closer, brushing my fingers against her wrist. The moment I touched her, a jolt of something ancient and dangerous cracked through the air. A mark burned into her skin-faint, but unmistakable.
Rage curled inside me.
"You lied to me, Orzian," I growled.
A figure stepped forward from the shadows, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. Orzian, my Beta. My second. My traitor.
"I lied about many things, Alpha," he mused. "But this? This is the secret even you were never meant to uncover."
I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to rip his throat out right there. "She shouldn't exist."
"And yet she does."
The girl stirred, her lashes fluttering as she fought the pull of unconsciousness. I felt the weight of her presence like a vice on my chest, something raw and wrong.
The blood oath had brought me here.
It had demanded a massacre.
But for what purpose?
I exhaled sharply. "Take her back to the stronghold. Bind her. If she's what I think she is..."
Orzian's smile was sharp. "Then you've just waged war against something far older than us."
I already knew.
And it was too late to turn back now.
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