Chapter 7 Pain And Betrayal!

• In the darkness of the night, Serenity sensed their arrival. As she looked at them, her eyes filled with tears. Their disheveled fur and frightened eyes reflected the harsh reality they faced alone in the world, having to fight for survival from a very young age.
• Amidst the darkness, a ray of hope emerged as the wolves' eyes caught sight of Serenity's solitary figure. She, the woman, the werewolf with a generous heart and compassionate gaze, always approached with care, recognizing the fragility and the urgent needs of all those wolves.
• Without hesitation, she opened her bag and began distributing everything she had managed to carry. Aware of their hunger, Serenity offered them food, and due to the cold, she provided soft blankets so they could snuggle up on that chilly night.
• Serenity knew she would soon be sent away and might never see them again, so she needed to warn them. Her heart ached, but it was necessary. Now she had to think about her family; even though her sister had put her in an uncomfortable situation, Serenity needed to defend her family and would do everything in her power to keep them safe. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she would fight and perhaps find support for her causes in the castle, thus helping those in need.
• Serenity didn’t know the prince, but what she had heard about him was not very encouraging. Atticus had a reputation for being a cold and cruel werewolf, indifferent to the pain of others. He was rarely seen in the castle corridors, and there were rumors that his uncle, the current king, despised him. Although the reason remained unknown, Serenity was about to uncover all the secrets hidden within the castle walls.
• With a shattered heart, she bid farewell; her journey was just beginning. Now she had to accept her choices and head to the castle.
• At the castle, tensions were high after another war fought by the king to seize yet another province. Now, all anyone talked about was the royal wedding. The walls echoed with news of the recent battle, while the corridors buzzed with the excitement of preparations for the union between the noble families.
• The contrast between the chaos of war and the grandeur of the wedding created a tense atmosphere in the castle. The halls, once the stage for military strategies, were now transformed into settings for banquets and celebrations. The king, still immersed in the aftermath of the war, now found himself submerged in the complexities of wedding arrangements.
• Atticus, as always, preferred not to leave his room. It was almost noon when his servant, Lazarus, entered the prince's chamber and opened the curtains.
• “Sir, your uncle requests your presence in the royal hall,” said Lazarus, bowing in reverence.
• “Why did you open the curtains? I don’t want to see him. What does he want this time?” Atticus replied, his voice heavy with distrust.
• “Unfortunately, I don’t know, my lord. You’ll have to go and find out,” Lazarus responded, concern evident in his voice.
• Atticus clenched his fists, striking the bed with force. His hands trembled as his claws dug into his flesh, causing blood to trickle down.
• “Sir, please don't do this to yourself,” Lazarus said, approaching with a handkerchief.
• Atticus snorted impatiently and snatched the handkerchief from Lazarus’s hands, who stepped back to give the prince space. Lazarus patiently helped Atticus get dressed, then placed him in his wheelchair and guided him to the royal hall where his uncle Percival awaited.
• Lazarus positioned Atticus in front of the king and then discreetly stepped aside. Percival rose with a sly smile playing on his lips, sending a shiver through those present.
• “Ah! Look at my beloved nephew, how are you!” he said, circling Atticus and scrutinizing him intently.
• “I’m as always,” Atticus replied, his voice firm though laden with repressed tension.
• Percival laughed scornfully, the sound echoing through the hall. “I have no good news for you. I tried to persuade the Emberfall family, but even knowing the risks involved, the eldest daughter of the family, young Seraphina, refused to marry you.” Percival continued to walk around Atticus, analyzing each expression carefully.
• Atticus tightened his fists further, enduring the pain without wavering; he would not let his uncle see his weakness. “I don’t care about that. I’m not looking for a companion,” Atticus declared firmly, his fists clenched tightly, pain throbbing intensely in his hands. An unshakable determination shone in his words. “If no woman wishes to marry me, so be it. I don’t need a bride to find happiness or fulfill my role as heir.”
• King Percival let out a scornful laugh, moving even closer to Atticus. He leaned in, just a hair’s breadth from Atticus’s face, his eyes gleaming with cruelty and satisfaction, as if savoring his nephew’s agony. “You might try to fool yourself, nephew, but a kingdom without a lineage is doomed to chaos. If you don’t take a wife, we won’t have heirs, and everything I build here will be lost.”
• Percival straightened up and began walking, placing his hands behind his back. “I know it’s also my fault, since my Luna unfortunately couldn’t give me an heir. Unfortunately, my kingdom depends on you now, nephew.”
• Atticus swallowed hard. How could his uncle Percival say such things? He was nothing more than a bastard who took advantage of a family's misfortune to seize power. The kingdom was built by Atticus’s parents, the true king and queen of pure lineage. Atticus, now older and scarred both body and soul, reminisced about the fateful night when his family was ambushed by treacherous werewolves. The memory of that night echoed in his mind with dark flashbacks, transporting him back to that dreadful evening.
• In the Past
• Atticus looked out the carriage window and saw clouds covering the sky, blocking the moonlight. The royal carriage advanced through the woodlands of the Low Countries, seeking allies in a distant province. Atticus felt restless as his eyes strained to see beyond the shadows around him. Beside him, King Alvanir and Queen Lisandra shared his concern, exchanging tense glances; something seemed wrong.
• The werewolf sense told them something was amiss, but Alvanir didn’t want to cause a panic. Atticus sniffed the air; his keen senses had him on high alert.
• Without their knowledge, the traitors were among them. The coachman who accompanied them and much of the royal guard, supposedly responsible for their protection, had succumbed to greed and betrayal, allying themselves with the enemy werewolves.
• The night turned into chaos as the werewolves, now in a wild frenzy, attacked ferociously. Lisandra, following Alvanir's orders, held Atticus close, shielding him with her own body.
• Alvanir, in his lupine form, displayed his supernatural strength, battling the traitors with a mix of rage and determination. The sound of breaking bones and growls echoed through the forest as the battle raged on.
• Realizing the gravity of the situation, Lisandra desperately searched for an escape. Holding Atticus tightly, she ran toward a nearby clearing, trying to flee the tumult that was unfolding.
• The carriage was now completely surrounded by the savagery of the treacherous werewolves. Even under the weight of betrayal, Alvanir fought with ferocity, using his werewolf abilities to stand out in the battle.
• As Lisandra moved through the forest, the sounds of snapping branches and wild howls faded behind her, replaced by the claustrophobic darkness of the forest. She knew she could trust no one but herself to protect Atticus.
• Navigating through the dense vegetation, Lisandra reached a clearing where the moonlight illuminated the ground. She checked on Atticus to ensure he was safe and unhurt before searching for a temporary hiding place.
• Meanwhile, Alvanir continued his desperate fight against the traitors. His wolf senses alerted him to movements around him. The battle for the survival of the royal family had only just begun, and the consequences of that bloody night would be felt for a long time.