Chapter 1 Prologue

• Night had already fallen in all its darkness when Alaric emerged from the shadows, an imposing and cruel figure. Young, with hair as black as pitch and eyes as deep as the starless night, he walked naked on the cold earth, his strong body gleaming in the silver moonlight. His every step was marked by a silent fury as he approached the last stronghold of the witches who dared to challenge his thirst for power.
• The place that had once been a delicate and beautiful village was now a scene of terror and blood. In the gloom, the bodies of the witches lay scattered, forming a macabre and silent offering to the violence that had taken place there. Alaric had no remorse or pity; he felt no pity or compassion; the only thing his chest could process was the pleasure of killing.
• “Now the last one!” roared Alaric, his hoarse, implacable voice tearing through the silence of the night.
• Alaric walked towards the youngest witch, the last remaining of the group of women who lived in the area. Her eyes, narrowed and frightened, could barely hold the alpha's gaze, while her trembling hands tried in vain to ward off the approaching fate.
• Without hesitation, Alaric grabbed her tightly and, in a single violent movement, tore her neck open with his sharp claws, spurting scarlet blood that stained her skin and spread across the land already scarred by the carnage.
• The girl's scream was like music to his ears as her body fell heavily onto the pile of lifeless bodies of her sisters. The alpha's eyes, bathed in a pleasure that made the blood in his veins pulse, slid over the scene of destruction. He allowed himself an instant of satisfaction, inhaling deeply the metallic scent of blood, which mixed with the earthy smell of the sodden field.
• “That's what you get for trying to oppose me!” he muttered as he prepared to leave.
• His work was done, and the example had been set; now no mortal would dare challenge him, whether they were under the protection of their gods or not. He would always be greater and more dangerous than any deity.
• But fate, always capricious and implacable, had other plans for him. Just as Alaric was preparing to walk away, something happened. A dark aura began to form over one of the bodies lying inert. The witch's eyes, which had previously been opaque and lifeless, suddenly opened, revealing a dark, black glow. The blood, which had been still for a moment, began to flow again, as if death itself had refused to accept its silence.
• Alaric stopped, his heart racing in surprise — it was the first time he had seen anything like this. Every muscle in his body contracted as he watched the scene, paralyzed. Slowly, the reanimated figure raised its head, its features now charged with an ancient fury and a power that transcended human understanding. And then, in a deep, resonant tone, the voice came from the witch's lips:
• “I am Sidonia!”
• The voice, deep and powerful, echoed through the night, making the very air tremble. The witch, now seized by the power of a divine entity, stood as the embodiment of the Umbra, the goddess forgotten and feared by all the witches who once worshiped her. Her black eyes, devoid of any trace of humanity, fixed on Alaric, as if they wanted to penetrate every nook and cranny of his soul.
• “The goddess of the Umbra, mistress of mysteries and shadows,” she continued, her voice growing in intensity with each word. “You, alpha, have dared to touch what belongs to me!”
• Alaric, who had once felt himself to be the strongest creature in the land, now found himself immobilized by an invisible force. His feet lifted off the ground, and his body floated towards the witch, who moved like a puppet controlled by the goddess to whom she had been devoted in life.
• “Your heart, cold and devoid of compassion, is a burden I can no longer allow you to carry...”
• Sidonia's eyes shone with a dark power as she spoke, and the silence around her seemed to swallow every word. Alaric tried to move to fight against that force, but his limbs wouldn't respond. Fear and despair mixed inside him; he had never felt anything like this in his entire life.
• “Stop, please!” he tried to struggle, his voice choked by the agony spreading through his body.
• With a cold, merciless gesture, Sidonia reached out towards Alaric's chest. Her fingers slid across the young alpha's skin with cruel precision, cutting through it like paper. Without any hesitation, she thrust her hand in and, in a move that mixed the grace of fate with the brutality of punishment, pulled out Alaric's beating heart.
• The heart beat frantically, trapped between the goddess's soaked fingers, and she looked at the orc with contempt. Alaric felt an indescribable pain invade every inch of his being, as if every fiber of his existence was being ripped out with force. Blood, once vibrant and alive, now flowed freely, marking the ground with proof of his fall.
• “You don't need him,” Sidonia's voice cut through the air, cold and definitive. “Your nature is already sealed by the absence of compassion. Only one, and only one, can rescue what you have lost: your companion. She must love you, even when your heart is absent, and only then, when that love becomes true, will she find the way to give you back what you have lost.”
• The goddess' words resounded with the authority of an immutable destiny. Alaric, still in shock, tried to rise, but his strength seemed to have been drained by that merciless act. Tears of pain mingled with the blood dripping from his chest as he murmured in a despair-filled whisper:
• “No... my heart… how can I live without it?”
• Sidonia, with an impassive look, continued her curse:
• “If you don't find that mate in the next 500 years, you will never know the love that is meant for you. No she-wolf will then be able to bear your cubs, and your lineage will be lost like leaves blown by the wind. You will be condemned to wander forever, a lonely being devoid of all the glory that your blood and cruelty could have guaranteed!”
• The intensity of the goddess' words fell on Alaric like a mortal blow. Each sentence seemed to engrave a scar on his soul, turning his existence into an unbearable burden. He tried to plead once more, his voice laden with a mixture of pain and regret:
• “Please, Sidonia, give me a chance... I'll do anything! Please, anything!”
• But just as Alaric showed no mercy, Sidonia remained resolute. Her countenance remained unchanged as she watched the young alpha, who was now struggling between pain and terror.
• “This is the fate you have chosen, the consequences of your choices! Just as you didn't offer mercy to those who begged you, I won't give it to you!”
• With those words, the goddess' aura began to dissipate. The possessed body shook briefly before collapsing into ashes and shadows, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. The curse was lifted, and the silence, heavy and absolute, resumed its dominance over the night.