When Leo woke, the cell around him was dripping with water.
That damp, metallic stench—a mix of rust, mold, and wet earth—clawed into his nose, making him cough involuntarily. His throat burned like it had been scorched, and a dull ache echoed deep in his chest, as if he had just survived a night of howling torment.
He opened his eyes to the sight of a rough stone ceiling, stained yellow-brown from years of torch smoke. Symbols were carved into the walls—runes he didn't recognize, like spells or forgotten tribal totems. He tried to sit up, but the iron chains binding his wrists clinked harshly, digging cold and unyielding into his skin.
He looked down—
Two hands, pale and powerful, with pronounced knuckles and calloused palms lined with scars.They weren't his.
"This isn't my body."
The thought struck like lightning.He shut his eyes, grasping for memory—but all he found were flashes—blood, moonlight, shadows in flight, the howl of wolves.
He was Leo Thorne, a werewolf.Three years ago, he'd been exiled to the edge of the forest by his own pack.
And yet—he could recall Leo's father, his brothers, the trials, the wars, the blood debt…But not himself.
Who was he, really?
He looked down at his chest. A crystal pendant hung there, cool and firm against his skin. Strange, glowing blue runes were etched into its surface, faintly pulsing with light. He touched it instinctively. For a heartbeat, his pulse stuttered.
He didn't have time to think further—footsteps echoed outside the cell.
Creeeak.The door swung open.
Torchlight spilled into the cell, and a woman's silhouette stood framed in its glow.
She wore a deep wine-colored cloak, tall and poised.Her boots clicked softly but surely on the stone floor as she stepped forward. When she pulled back her hood, silver-white hair cascaded down her shoulders, accentuating the cold grace of her face.
It was a face too striking to look away from—sharp, sculpted features, skin pale as snowlight, and eyes dark amber like a predator watching from the depths of a forest.
But Leo froze.
He didn't know her.And yet the moment he saw her, his heart skipped a beat.
It was the strangest thing—like meeting someone again after lifetimes apart.She felt familiar.Too familiar.
She stood before the iron bars, assessing him with a calm, precise gaze—like evaluating the value of prey.
"You're awake." Her voice was low, with a rough-edged rasp, naturally cool in tone.
"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse but deep, marked by the low growl typical of his kind.
"Selena Raylin," she replied, taking a step closer. "Human. Daughter of Moontrace's ruling house."
He frowned.Moontrace and his Bloodfang Tribe had always stayed out of each other's affairs.Why would they capture him?
"You were found in the underground market near our border," she explained. "The wolf hunters caught you. I bought you."
A rush of memory stabbed into his mind—his mother dead on the battlefield, his father's scorn, the tribe's furious eyes and cruel names… His heart pounded as the wildness stirred within him, threatening to awaken.
"Why save me?" he asked, wary and confused.
Selena tilted her head slightly, a faint smile flickering on her lips.
"You're Leo. Son of the Bloodfang alpha," she said with quiet certainty. "I once saw you—from a distance."
She raised a hand, as if to brush the hair from his forehead—but he turned his head away.
She didn't mind.She simply straightened and said calmly,"You don't trust me yet. But you will."
Then, her expression shifted—more serious, more focused.
"You can't go back to your tribe. They hate you.But if you're willing, we can work together. I can help you clear your name. I can help you return."
Leo stared at her, conflicted.He didn't know if she was telling the truth.But her words stirred something inside him—something that refused to be ignored.
She turned to leave, then looked back over her shoulder.
"Rot in this lightless cell, if that's what you want," she said. "Or stand up like a warrior… and take back what's yours. You choose."
The door shut behind her with a deep, echoing clang.
The cell returned to darkness. Only the faint trace of sandalwood from her hair lingered in the air.
Leo closed his eyes, and the memories came rushing back—
It was a night three years ago.Garlen, the tribe's first warrior, had died at the border.Leo had been found beside the body, drenched in blood.He had tried to explain.Told them the real killer was a wolf hunter. But the man had already vanished.
His claws were soaked in blood. His clothes stained with the warrior's flesh.
The tribe had roared in fury, screaming traitor, filthy wolf, false blood.
His father said nothing.Just turned his back and walked away.
The elders raised their silver blades.Branded him a traitor.Dragged him to the Oath Pillar, where they carved the curse into his skin.
That same night, lightning struck the sacred tree.They stripped him of his warrior name—And left him in the forest like garbage.
Now, the crystal pendant at his chest glowed faintly blue, warming against his skin.
Leo looked down, fingers brushing over it.
"…Should I trust her?" he whispered.
As if in response, the pendant gave a tiny, almost imperceptible pulse.
He closed his hand around it, eyes sharpening.
And for the first time… he began to decide.