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Blood of Vaelr She bears the mark. He is the reason it awakens. Alira Selin has lived in the shadows, hiding the bloodline that once ruled with both reverence and fear. Marked by a symbol tied to a forgotten legacy, she's been harassed,silenced, and betrayed-until a war drags her into the heart of her enemies' territory. The Akharin are not men. They're something else-fierce, untamed, born of instinct and war. With magic that pulses beneath their skin and strength that defies nature, they are feared across every border. And none more than their king. Ashiran Vaelr is ruthless, controlled, and entirely untouchable. But the moment he sees Alira's mark, something ancient stirs. She is not one of them... and yet, she is. To claim her is dangerous. To protect her is treason. To let her go is unthinkable. Because some bloodlines don't die. They wait-for power, for vengeance, and for each other.
Chapter 1 Alira
Chapter One: Alira
They said it was a peace treaty. To Alira Selin, it felt like being shipped off in a box with a pretty ribbon tied around her neck.
The dress itched. The corset chafed. The jewelry felt like it belonged to someone else. She looked like royalty, sure. But she'd never felt less like a daughter. Less like a person.
Her father hadn't offered a hug, or a farewell. Just a cold glance, a few clipped instructions, and that ever-sharp tone of disappointment. Her mother hadn't even shown up.
"Don't embarrass us," her father had said.
That was it.
Not goodbye. Not stay safe. Not I'm sorry we never knew how to love you.
She didn't respond. Didn't look back. If this was to be her last day in her homeland, she would not spend it begging scraps of affection from people who'd withheld it her entire life.
The palace gates opened. The carriage stood waiting-polished, regal, suffocating. A symbol of honor, they said. But everyone knew better. You didn't send a beloved daughter into the hands of a foreign power just to "keep the peace."
You sent someone you could live without.
The footman opened the door. She stepped in.
Click.
It was such a quiet sound for something that final.
---
The journey stretched long, days bleeding into nights. The roads turned colder, less familiar, the trees taller and tangled with mist. She sat straight-backed in silence, hands folded neatly, eyes never straying from the window.
At night, the guards made camp. She ate alone. Slept alone. Spoke only when necessary. There was nothing to say.
By the third evening, she could feel it-like something brushing against the edge of her senses. The wind whispered differently here. The air felt older, heavier. She didn't need anyone to tell her they'd crossed into Akharin land.
You just knew.
Even the horses grew uneasy.
Stories she'd heard as a child came creeping back. Of men born with fire in their blood. Of kingdoms carved by magic. Of Ashiran Vaelr-the Beast of the North, some called him. A man too ruthless to fear war. Too powerful to need allies. And now, her husband-to-be.
They told her he wasn't human in the way others were. Not a shifter. Not quite a monster either. But not entirely tame, either.
She wasn't sure what that made her. A sacrifice? A bargaining chip? A bride?
She'd stopped hoping for more a long time ago.
---
By the sixth day, a new rider joined their escort. He wore no colors. No crest. Just black furs and a blade that looked older than the road they traveled.
Akharin.
The guards stiffened. She watched them avoid his gaze. She didn't.
If this was to be her new world, she wanted to see it clearly.
That night, they didn't stop at an inn. They slept under the sky, firelight dancing across unfamiliar eyes. The Akharin man didn't speak a word to her, but he didn't look away, either. Neither did she.
She refused to look afraid.
She'd been unwanted her entire life. This was nothing new. At least here, she was being rejected by strangers.
---
On the eighth morning, the mountains appeared-sharp, cold, rising from the mist like the jaws of some ancient god. She pulled back the curtain and stared. Not in awe. Not in fear. But with a strange calm.
It was all finally real.
Her hands, wrapped in fur-lined gloves, rested in her lap. Perfectly still.
By dusk, the fortress came into view.
Not a castle of gold and glass, like the ones back home. This was darker-lower, carved into stone, like it had grown from the earth itself. A place built to endure, not impress. The guards halted, dismounted, and for the first time in days, silence settled with weight.
He was waiting at the gate.
Ashiran Vaelr.
She recognized him before anyone said a word. You didn't mistake a man like that. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hair as black as the sky behind him. He wore no crown, no ceremonial garb. Just thick furs, gloves, and an unreadable expression.
But his presence filled the space around him.
And those eyes-sharp, gold, cold like the heart of winter.
They didn't flare with anger, or narrow with distaste. They simply watched. Unmoved. Measured. As if he'd been expecting her, but had never quite imagined her real.
She met his gaze without flinching.
The wind stirred. Her veil slipped off her head, torn from its pin and carried into the dark.
She didn't chase it.
Neither did he.
They stood like that, across a stretch of frozen ground, not yet husband and wife, not yet enemies.
Just two strangers.
Two weapons.
Waiting.
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Chapter 1 Alira
19/05/2025