Chapter 1 Chapter One: The Crown For A Collar

• The palace bells tolled like war drums.
• Each chime echoed through the marbled corridors of the Elmondrian Royal Castle, a slow, ceremonial death knell for Princess Elara’s freedom. She stood at the edge of her balcony, hands clasped in front of her to keep from trembling. The white silk of her ceremonial gown fluttered in the wind like a fallen banner. Beneath her, the courtyards were filled with soldiers—both human and Lycan—standing together in uneasy formation.
• Today was not a wedding.
• It was a surrender.
• A peace treaty sealed with a bride.
• Her.
• Elara inhaled slowly, forcing her heartbeat to steady. Beyond the courtyard, beyond the jagged peaks that guarded the capital, she could see the black banners of the Lycan Empire approaching. They moved like a storm front—elegant carriages pulled by beastlike steeds, flanked by dozens of mounted warriors in obsidian armor. Their Alpha Prince rode at the center, the one she was to marry.
• Prince Kael Thorne of Noctaris—the last son of the Bloodline of the Moon.
• A legend. A monster. A man with more kills than words in his mouth.
• And now, her husband.
• She gritted her teeth as the full weight of her father’s betrayal settled on her chest. Only a week ago, she had been in the war chamber, standing beside the king—her father—as maps of their crumbling borders burned in the hearth and generals argued over strategy. The Lycans were too strong. Too fast. Too many. Their magic was ancient and wild, whereas human mages had long since lost their grip on true elemental power.
• Her kingdom was dying. And her father, King Halden, had found a convenient solution.
• Sacrifice the lamb.
• Offer the princess.
• Call it peace.
• Hours Later – The Temple of Binding
• The Temple of Binding—a sacred structure that bridged the Lycan and human faiths—was filled with silence.
• No music. No laughter. Only candlelight, stone, and shadow.
• Elara walked down the long aisle between two worlds. Human nobles sat stiffly on the left, their faces pale and unreadable. Lycan dignitaries loomed on the right, silent as statues, some already half-shifted with glowing eyes and sharpened nails. The scent of musk and moonroot filled the air.
• At the altar, Kael stood like a mountain dressed in black and silver armor. No crown. No warmth. Just that unflinching stare.
• Elara had seen portraits of him—tall, brutal, striking. But in person, he was something else entirely. Not handsome, not conventionally—but dangerously beautiful, like a blade forged in fire and ice.
• She stopped before him. Raised her chin.
• Their eyes met.
• Neither bowed.
• Neither smiled.
• A priestess stepped between them. Her robes shimmered with silver thread, and her voice echoed through the temple with ancient authority.
• “By the power of the Moon and the Crown, we bind two bloodlines in sacred unity. Let the mark choose. Let the fates decide.”
• She held out the ceremonial dagger—a curved, rune-inscribed blade that shimmered with magic. Elara knew what came next. Her palm was sliced cleanly, and so was Kael’s. Blood met blood, drip by drip, in the obsidian bowl between them.
• Then came the spark.
• A surge of power ripped through her arm, sending fire down her wrist. She gasped. A mark burned itself into her skin in glowing silver ink—a circular symbol threaded with runes. She looked up, and saw the same mark blazing on Kael’s wrist.
• The Bond Sigil.
• The gods had accepted their union.
• The war was over.
• So why did it feel like defeat?
• The Wedding Banquet – Later That Night
• Elara sat on a raised dais beside Kael as the feast began, untouched food laid before her like a funeral offering. The hall was quiet, conversation forced and polite. No toasts. No joy.
• Her new husband had not spoken a word since the temple.
• He sat beside her like a stone sculpture—alive, but unbothered by her presence. She studied his profile. Strong jaw, stubbled face, a scar trailing from his temple to the line of his jaw. He wore no emotion.
• At last, she leaned toward him and whispered, “You could at least pretend to be pleased.”
• Kael didn’t even glance at her. “I do not pretend.”
• “Then I pity your court.”
• “I do not need your pity, Princess.”
• “Then what do you need?”
• Kael finally turned his head. “Obedience.”
• Elara stared at him, heart pounding. “Then you married the wrong woman.”
• Their eyes locked.
• For a heartbeat, the tension was electric.
• Then he leaned back. “We’ll see.”
• Midnight – Her Chambers
• She tore off the gown before the door even shut.
• The servants had left the moment she arrived. Good. She wanted no eyes on her now. Her chest burned, her blood felt like it had turned to molten fire.
• This was not a marriage.
• It was a cage.
• And the worst part? Deep in her bones—something stirred.
• The Bond Mark on her wrist pulsed faintly beneath her skin. She examined it in the mirror, the ancient runes shimmering with a light that was… too old. Too familiar.
• Not just Lycan magic.
• Not just ritual.
• But something else.
• Something older.
• A voice whispered in her thoughts, one that had been silent for so long she’d forgotten it existed:
• “Remember who you were…”
• She backed away from the mirror, heart slamming.
• She couldn’t remember.
• Not yet.
• But she would.
• Flashback – Ten Years Earlier
• Elara was only ten the first time she saw the full moon rise above the Black Mountains and felt the strange heat bloom beneath her skin.
• Her maid had found her collapsed in the garden, eyes glowing faintly. A fever, they said. But she remembered the dream. The blood. The voice calling her by another name.
• “Elaria of the Flame.”
• She never forgot that name.
• Even if no one else remembered it.
• Return to Present – The Carriage Ride to Noctaris
• They left Elmondria before dawn.
• The carriages rolled in silence, flanked by Lycan guards who did not blink. Elara sat alone, wrapped in furs, watching the forest change. The land grew colder, darker, as they crossed the border into Lycan territory.
• She had heard stories of Noctaris, the capital of the Lycan Empire.
• A city carved into obsidian cliffs, lit by moonstone and fire, ruled by wolves and bound in ancient blood magic.
• Now she would see it.
• Now she would be its queen.
• Or its prisoner.
• Arrival – Noctaris, the Lycan Capital
• The city was nothing like she imagined.
• Massive towers twisted into the sky like claws. Streets were lined with glowing stones that pulsed with moonlight. Wolves—real wolves—roamed freely among the people. And the people… weren’t quite human.
• Some had yellow eyes. Some had claws instead of fingernails. Some wore talismans of teeth and fur.
• And all of them stared as Elara’s carriage passed.
• Not with joy.
• With suspicion.
• With hunger.
• The Blackmoon Palace
• The gates opened to reveal a fortress more than a home.
• Spiked walls. Shadowed halls. Portraits of Lycans in full shift lining the corridors like ghosts of war.
• Kael led the way without a word. She followed, every step echoing like a warning. Servants bowed low but never met her eyes.
• Finally, she was shown to her chambers. Massive. Cold. Furnished with weapons and war relics, not lace or perfume.
• A chamber for a general, not a bride.
• Before the door closed behind him, Kael turned to face her.
• “This is your domain,” he said. “Stay in it.”
• “And if I don’t?”
• He stared at her for a long moment.
• Then: “You’re free to roam. Just understand—every step you take will be watched.”
• He left without another word.
• Elara stood in the silence of her new cage, and for the first time since the wedding…
• She let herself cry.
• Chapter End