The first snows of winter had come early to Ashenvale. Frost clung to the marble balustrades of the Moonbane citadel, turning its proud towers into pale ghosts beneath the gray sky. From the highest window of the east wing, Luceris Aldric Moonbane surveyed his kingdom — or what should have been his kingdom — with eyes that burned as silver as starlight.
The court called him a prince. The scions of lesser wolf bloodlines praised his father, Alpha King Aldric, and bowed to his mother, the gentle yet fierce Luna Queen Eirene. But Luceris… was something altogether different. Something more.
He had known it since he was a child — that there was a restless, dangerous power sleeping beneath his skin, refusing to stir even under the harshest training. The elders spoke of "the gift" in hushed tones, as if fearing it would hear them. His parents only nodded gravely whenever he asked, cautioning him to be patient, that someday it would awaken.
Someday, they said.
But Luceris was done waiting.
He stood tall, the heavy wolf-crest cloak draped over broad shoulders, white hair flowing to the small of his back. His features were sharp, almost ethereal, bearing the beauty of his line: pale skin with a faint lunar sheen, eyes as bright and cold as polished silver. Scars traced across his chest and arms — trophies of training, not true battles. The harshness of that training had carved his body into that of a warrior even before adulthood, and now, at eighteen, he was near unbreakable.
Yet the ache remained. The power was still silent.
Below in the courtyard, warriors trained in formation, their swords glinting, their wolf forms rippling through them with practiced ease. Luceris felt a sting of envy. Every wolf in Ashenvale had found their strength. Every wolf except the Moonbane heir himself.
A polite cough broke his focus.
"Your Highness?"
Luceris turned. At the doorway stood Ser Kayde, his oldest friend, lean and dark-haired, loyal to a fault. Behind Kayde trailed Calder, a half-brother from a concubine line — ambitious, clever, his gaze always flicking to where Luceris stood.
Calder smiled, too warm to be honest. "Our father requests your presence in the great hall."
Luceris arched a brow. "At this hour?"
"He said it was… urgent." Kayde added carefully, eyes darting toward Calder as if worried to speak freely.
Something in Luceris's gut twisted. An instinct. A warning.
Trust carefully, his mother had once whispered to him. Wolves may smile with their teeth.
"Very well," Luceris said at last. He wrapped the wolf-crest cloak tighter, ignoring the bitter wind howling through the open window.
As he walked the long corridor toward the heart of the fortress, memories of his parents stirred painfully. His father's commanding voice, full of impossible pride. His mother's gentle hand smoothing the hair from his face. The love that had filled these halls was almost tangible once, a legacy of strength and unity.
But lately, cracks had formed — distant looks between the elders, whispers in the night, alliances Luceris could not understand.
In the shadows of the pillars, old courtiers bowed with wary respect, their gazes a little too sharp, their smiles a little too thin. Luceris felt the hairs rise along the back of his neck.
He had been taught to trust the pack. Yet sometimes even a pack turned on its own.
At the massive carved doors of the great hall, guards pushed them open with ritual solemnity. Luceris stepped inside, boots echoing on black marble.
The air was heavy with the scent of sage and iron.
At the dais stood Alpha King Aldric, his father, tall and imposing in steel-grey leathers, silver hair braided back. At his side, Queen Eirene watched Luceris with eyes that seemed weighed by secrets.
Around them, the high lords of Ashenvale stood assembled, their faces masked in the careful civility of politicians.
"Luceris," his father boomed, his voice filling the vast chamber, "come forward."
He obeyed, every muscle tight with suspicion.
"You are eighteen now," Aldric declared, "and the time has come to name your path."
Luceris fought to keep his expression neutral. Name my path? It sounded ceremonial — yet why did the air taste so much like a threat?
The King gestured, and a servant brought forth an ancient scroll bound in black ribbon. Its seals bore the crescent sigil of the Moon Goddess herself.
"This," Aldric continued, "is your fate."
Luceris hesitated, then reached for the scroll, the paper cold as ice beneath his fingers.
His father's voice dropped, grave. "Read it."
Hands steady despite the pounding in his chest, Luceris broke the seals and unrolled the parchment.
Each word felt like a dagger to the heart.
By royal decree, the heir of Ashenvale, unawakened of blood, shall be exiled until his power claims him.
His breath caught. The hall swam.
Exile.
He looked up at his father, betrayal burning behind his silver eyes. "You… you would send me away?"
Aldric did not flinch. "We must protect you, Luceris. If your power is sealed, you are a danger to us all — and a weakness our enemies will exploit."
Luceris's jaw tightened. "Father, I—"
Queen Eirene stepped forward, tears brimming, but she did not speak. Her silence was a blade sharper than any steel.
"Go," the King commanded. "You will leave by dawn."
The world fell silent around Luceris. A ringing filled his head — like a blade drawn slowly across stone.
He saw Calder smirk, just for a heartbeat, before burying it under a look of false sympathy.
Ser Kayde stepped closer, eyes full of shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Luceris felt something break inside him, cold and final.
He straightened, dignity the only thing left unshattered. "Very well," he said, voice as hard as the winter outside. "I will obey."
For now.
Because somewhere deep, past every seal and every scar, the wolf inside him was stirring.
And it would remember.
It would remember everything.
----
Luceris stood in the hall as the words of exile burned into his bones. The courtiers tried to hide their satisfaction behind solemn masks, but he saw it — a flicker of relief, even victory, in their eyes.
He would not give them the pleasure of seeing him break.
He turned on his heel, cloak swirling behind him, and strode out of the great hall. The massive doors shut with a hollow echo, sealing his fate.
---
His chambers felt colder than ever, though a fire burned in the hearth. Servants waited nervously at the threshold, ready to help him pack. He dismissed them with a curt wave, refusing to let their pity stain his pride.
Slowly, methodically, he pulled items from their shelves: a hunting knife forged in starmetal, his father's old wolf-head signet, a battered leather journal where his mother had written lullabies and prayers.
The smell of the pages — wolf musk and old rosewater — threatened to crack his resolve.
He forced himself to keep moving.
Exile. For his own protection.
The phrase curdled in his mind. He was not a boy in need of protection. He was the heir of Ashenvale — or should have been.
A soft knock at his door startled him.
He turned, jaw set. "Enter."
His mother stepped in, her night-silver hair unbound, eyes shadowed with grief. She closed the door behind her and moved to him with a grace that reminded him painfully of how she had once ruled every room she entered.
"Luceris," she whispered, voice breaking, "please… forgive us."
He stiffened. "You let them send me away."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "If I had fought harder, they would have killed you. They fear you, Luceris. They fear what you might become."
He swallowed, the pain like splinters under his ribs. "What am I, Mother?"
She pressed a trembling hand to his cheek. "You are my son. You are the Moonbane heir. You are more than even you can imagine."
Luceris's throat tightened. "Then why do I feel so powerless?"
Her gaze darted to the door, as if afraid of spies. Then she reached into her sleeve and drew out a small pendant, carved in a crescent shape from pale, gleaming stone.
"This was yours," she whispered. "Your father hid it the day you were born. It is tied to your true power. Do not let them take it."
He accepted the pendant, its touch strangely warm in his palm. "Why give it to me now?"
"Because," she said, eyes fierce through her tears, "someday, you will return — and they will all kneel to you."
A tiny hope flared inside him, enough to banish the worst of his despair.
He hugged her tightly, memorizing her scent, her warmth. It might be the last time.
Then he turned away, fastening the pendant around his neck, tucking it beneath his tunic.
The dawn would come soon.
---
When he descended to the courtyard, soldiers were waiting. Their eyes refused to meet his. Even the loyal Kayde stood back, shame etched across his face.
A black horse had been saddled for him, laden with a travel pack and a heavy cloak.
Calder stood beside the captain of the guard, arms crossed, a smug grin barely hidden.
"Brother," Calder called out. "Do stay safe out there. We would hate for you to get eaten by rogues."
Luceris ignored him, stepping up to the horse and gripping the reins. His jaw ached from holding back a snarl.
As he swung into the saddle, Kayde approached, eyes haunted. "I tried, Luceris. I tried to convince them."
"I know," Luceris answered, voice flat.
Kayde swallowed hard, then leaned close so no one else could hear. "Trust no one. There are more snakes here than you can count."
Luceris gave the slightest nod, then spurred the horse forward.
At the gate, he turned one last time, looking at the fortress rising behind him, cold and magnificent in the half-light. The place of his birth. The place of his betrayal.
One day, I will return.
He left Ashenvale in silence, under a rising, pale moon.
---
He rode for hours, into forests thick with frost and silence, his mind a storm of rage and confusion. Snow clung to his hair and lashes, but he ignored the cold.
The pendant under his shirt pulsed faintly, almost alive against his skin.
He would not be broken. He would not be erased.
Beyond the ridge, the land fell into darker woods, where wolves sang in mournful howls to the goddess. Luceris let the sound wash over him, an ancient lullaby that steadied his heart.
In the distance, a lone wolf with white fur, just like his, stood watching him, pale eyes filled with something that felt almost like recognition.
Luceris…
He blinked, certain he'd heard a voice in the wind.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, but the presence lingered, comforting and terrifying at once.
The pendant burned against his chest, a reminder that his story was far from over.
He spurred his horse on, into the waiting night, not yet knowing that fate was already beginning to weave the next threads of his legend.
---