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THE WOLF KING'S BRIDE

Chapter 3 The Festival of Moons

Word Count: 806 | Released on: 13/04/2025

skies became silver and the air sparkled with ancient magic. The villagers danced, drank honeyed wine,

on. A supersti

noise. But this year, things were different. The air w

the forest vibr

ted through the air. Laughter ringed around her, but her gaze was on the tree li

hest, where the crescent ma

gging on her sleeve. Aria's younger sister grinned,

"It's different tonight.

this. Magic and moonlight. You're jus

moon-tree, her lanterns blazing and elder women wrapped in s

could f

h power. Old, wi

deformed hand and

ing through the shadows like smoke. "We honor the dance o

s murmured i

t over the crowd-and

d, child of

nce dr

blood, the call of something ancient. Her bare feet b

grasped

she said softly. "Of t

allowed

The prophecy stirs

torches flickered. The leaves whispered se

on the bark," the

d as she was told. Her

of silver light ac

ree pulsed against her skin,

of stone

of frost

hat blazed th

teppe

ng her in place. "You are chos

into whispers. Lil

t this," Ari

t," the Seer replied. "The moo

t. As if to suppress what had just happened. The vi

orest did

ed-something

, she coul

more painfully. The dream

standing at the border

and howling. Shadows between trunks, and not men o

Wolf

glinting like steel. His eyes l

d the moon,

at. "What do yo

inister. "You. As you are.

not y

before you ever drew

ve way beneath her feet. Branches part

yelled. "But you'll al

ats of cold, win

e, ash, and something darker. Her mark pounded as if

e line of trees, was a

breath

s glowe

vanishing i

and against the

ons was supposed t

the scales

orm was ap

Chapter End

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THE WOLF KING'S BRIDE

Esther70 Werewolf

“They said the prophecy was an ancient myth-whispered, tucked between the covers of bedtime tales, always ending in blood. But Aria was always drawn to the forbidden, to the whisper of trees after sunset, to the wolf-song that lulled her to sleep. Born under a dwindling moon, with a silver crescent stamped barely above her heart, she was not the same from the start. The village midwife had gone pale when she'd caught sight of the mark. Her mother had held her tighter, whispering prayers. The old stories warned that a girl like her would call the Wolf King back. No one ever said what he would do once he came back. Now, she knew. On the night of the Blood Moon, he came out of the forest, tall and unyielding, his eyes burning embers and his voice a wisp of smoke that curled around her. He didn't speak at first-he only looked at her, as if she was the last piece in a puzzle, he'd been trying for centuries to finish. "Waited lifetimes for you," he whispered, his hand cradling her cheek, rough and warm. His touch shouldn't have shivered down her spine-but it did. She should have screamed. Should have run. Yet her body leaned into his, as if it recalled something her mind had forgotten long ago. "You're mine, little moon," he whispered against her flesh. "Not because the prophecy requires it. but because I've burned for you in every single life I've ever had." Her heart was racing in her chest, caught between fear and desire. She was no warrior. No princess. Just a girl with too many questions and not enough sense to say no to the crazy fire in his eyes. And yet, when he pulled her into his arms and carried her into the forest, when the pack closed around them and the stars wheeled overhead, Aria didn't fight. She held on tight. For deep in her heart, something wild stirred. Something that wanted to love him. Or kill him. The Wolf King had claimed her as his. But Aria was no one's prey.”