WonNovels

Chapter 1: The Runt's Night

 

The full moon hung like a bloodshot eye high above the shadowed canopy of the Blackwood Forest. The air was thick with the scent of pine needles, damp earth, and a more primal, spine-tingling aroma—the smell of a pack about to gather.

For most members of the Blackwood Pack, tonight was a night of revelry, a celebration of unleashed power and wildness. But for Elara, it was just another night reminding her of how lowly she was.

She shrunk into the shadows at the very edge of the gathering grounds, like a pup abandoned before it even learned to hunt. Eighteen years old, and her body was still as thin and frail as a withered branch, showing no signs of impending maturity. Deadlier still, the wolf inside her remained dormant.

In the werewolf world, failing to complete your first shift before turning eighteen meant you were a thoroughbred "runt."

"Well, look who it is. Our little runt, Elara." A sharp, mean voice punctured the night's calm.

Elara's body flinched instinctively. She didn't need to look up to know who it was—Mara, currently the strongest female Beta in the pack, a vicious woman who took pleasure in tormenting the weak. Behind her trailed a few equally malicious lackeys.

"With the moon so full tonight, hasn't that little 'puppy' of yours woken up yet?" Mara walked up to Elara, looking down her nose at her, eyes full of mockery. "Or did it already die inside that useless body of yours?"

A burst of laughter erupted around them. The sounds lashed at Elara's self-esteem like whips. She lowered her head, biting her lip hard, refusing to make a sound. Resistance would only bring more brutal beatings; this was a lesson learned in blood over the years.

"Don't be like that, Mara," a lackey said with fake sympathy. "Maybe she just needs a little... stimulation?"

Before the words landed, Mara violently reached out, grabbed Elara's messy brown hair, and forced her head up.

"Look over there, runt." Mara's finger pointed to the center of the grounds, where the core members of the pack were gathered, the focal point of all eyes.

Standing there was Kaelen.

Even in the most crowded space, he shined like a dazzling star. At twenty, he was about to succeed as the pack's Alpha. He was tall, strong, his muscle definition perfect like a sculpture under the moonlight. He radiated a suffocating aura of power, the kind of pressure only a natural-born ruler possessed.

Elara's heart skipped a beat. That was the secret buried deepest in her heart, her most humble desire. She adored Kaelen, looking up to him like a god, even though she knew gods never care about the dust beneath their feet.

"See that?" Mara's voice whispered maliciously in her ear. "That's the future Alpha. And you, you only deserve to rot in the mud forever. Stop looking at him with those disgusting eyes; you're not worthy."

Mara disgustedly threw Elara aside like discarding a piece of trash. Elara fell heavily to the ground, knees scraping against sharp rocks. A piercing pain shot through her, but she didn't even whimper.

She just curled up there, gaze passing through the gaps in the crowd, greedily and desperately fixing on that radiant figure.

The moon reached its zenith. The restlessness in the air peaked. The adult werewolves began to get antsy, their breathing turning heavy, eyes glinting with primal desire.

It was the sign that the Fated Mate sensing was about to begin.

Every werewolf has a perfect mate chosen by the Moon Goddess in their lifetime. Finding each other and mating would lead to a qualitative leap in their power. This was the most sacred and irresistible law in the werewolf world.

A tiny spark of hope ignited in Elara's heart. Maybe... maybe a miracle would happen? Maybe the Moon Goddess hadn't completely abandoned her? If she could find her mate, even if it wasn't someone important, as long as they could accept her, she wouldn't have to live this hellish life anymore.

She closed her eyes, praying devoutly.

 

Chapter 2: The Mate Bond

 

In the center of the gathering grounds, Kaelen felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. It was an intense longing he had never experienced before, a pull from the depths of his soul. His wolf roared inside him, desperate to find its other half.

He took a deep breath. The air was a mix of various pheromones—excited, expectant, and nakedly seductive. He knew many excellent female werewolves tonight were hoping to become his mate, to become the future Luna of this powerful pack.

Mara stood not far from him. She puffed out her chest, unabashedly releasing her strong and confident pheromones, staring at him hotly. She always believed she was the one most qualified to stand by Kaelen's side.

Kaelen's gaze swept across the crowd, trying to capture that most special scent.

Suddenly, everything stopped.

The noisy crowd, the clamoring voices, even the sound of the wind vanished. His world was left with only one scent—a cool, quiet fragrance with a hint of bitter herbs and damp earth after rain. It wasn't strong, even a bit faint, but it hooked into his soul deep like a claw.

His wolf howled madly inside him: It's her! Find her!

Kaelen's body turned uncontrollably. His gaze, attracted like a magnet, cut through the layers of the crowd and landed precisely on the most inconspicuous shadowed corner at the edge of the grounds.

There, a thin, curled-up figure was slowly lifting her head.

Their eyes met.

In that instant, Elara felt like she'd been struck by lightning. An indescribable warmth exploded from her chest, spreading rapidly to her limbs and bones. The wolf that had slept inside her for eighteen years showed signs of waking for the first time, letting out a weak yet trembling whimper in the depths of her soul.

It was an absolute, unquestionable sense of belonging.

It was Kaelen.

Her Fated Mate was actually the god she had looked up to her entire youth, the future king of this pack.

Immense joy shocked Elara's brain, making it almost impossible for her to breathe. Her eyes widened in disbelief, tears welling up. The Moon Goddess had heard her prayers! She wasn't a runt; she was the chosen one!

She struggled to stand up from the ground, wanting to walk toward him.

However, the next second, she saw Kaelen's look.

What flashed first in Kaelen's eyes was shock, disbelief that his mate turned out to be the lowliest existence in the pack. Immediately following was a primal desire and possessiveness for a mate. His body instinctively wanted to step toward her.

But he stopped.

Reason, like a basin of ice water, violently doused the fire inside him.

No, this was impossible. This was absolutely a mistake.

He was the future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack; he shouldered the heavy responsibility of leading the pack to greatness. His mate, the future Luna, had to be a powerful, noble female who could fight alongside him.

Not a runt who couldn't even shift!

If he accepted Elara, the entire pack would become a laughingstock to other tribes. His authority would be questioned, and the pack's future would become precarious.

The weight of power and obsession with strength instantly overwhelmed the bond of the soul.

The desire in Kaelen's eyes quickly receded, replaced by deep disgust, resistance, and anger at being toyed with by fate.

Elara felt like she'd been punched hard. She saw the change in his eyes; it was something more heartbreaking than Mara's ridicule. Her forward steps froze. The hope that had just ignited was extinguished in an instant, turning into biting cold.

Mara, standing beside Kaelen, keenly sensed all of this. She looked at Kaelen, then at the lowly figure in the distance, a flash of disbelief in her eyes, immediately turning into malicious ecstasy.

She leaned close to Kaelen, whispering in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Oh my god, Kaelen, this is truly a tragedy, isn't it? The Moon Goddess actually played such a big joke. A runt? Imagine if she became our Luna, the Blackwood Pack would be finished."

Her words were like a snake's tongue, precisely licking the most wavering part of Kaelen's heart.

"You know what to do, my Alpha," Mara's voice was full of temptation and incitement. "For the pack, for your future, you must make the right choice. Some mistakes can be corrected."

Kaelen clenched his jaw tight, veins popping on his neck. He was undergoing an intense internal struggle. His wolf protested wildly, roaring to rush to its mate, but his human reason coldly calculated the pros and cons.

Finally, reason triumphed over instinct. His eyes became cold and determined.

He knew what he had to do.

 

Chapter 3: Public Execution

 

Kaelen took a deep breath and strode with long legs, walking step by step up onto the huge rock platform in the center of the grounds that symbolized power.

Every step was heavy and firm, like stepping on Elara's heart.

The eyes of the entire venue were focused on him. Everyone felt that unusual, oppressive atmosphere. The whispering gradually subsided, and the entire gathering grounds fell into a dead silence.

Elara stood in the shadows, trembling all over. A premonition of impending doom gripped her tightly. She wanted to run, but her legs felt like they were filled with lead, unable to move a single step.

Kaelen stood on the high platform, the moonlight casting his figure long and cold. He scanned the pack members below, and finally, his gaze locked coldly on Elara in the distance.

His voice wasn't loud, but imbued with Alpha power, it clearly traveled throughout the entire grounds.

"Tonight, under the witness of the Moon Goddess, I found my Fated Mate."

A burst of low gasps and commotion erupted in the crowd. Everyone was guessing who the lucky one was, and many eyes turned to the confident Mara.

Kaelen paused for a moment, his Adam's apple rolling with difficulty. Saying the words that followed was equally torture for him, but he had to do it.

"However," his voice became colder, without a shred of emotion, "the future of the Blackwood Pack allows for no flaws. What we need is strength, power, not weakness and a burden."

Elara's breathing stopped. She stared fixedly at the man on the high platform, the man she had loved for her entire youth.

"I, the future Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, Kaelen Blackwood," Kaelen raised his voice, every word like a sharp blade, stabbing fiercely into Elara's heart, "hereby solemnly declare: I reject Elara as my Fated Mate!"

BOOM—

The sentence was like a bomb exploding in the crowd. Everyone looked at Elara in the corner in shock. Disbelief, mockery, pity... all kinds of gazes pierced her like needles.

For Elara, the world collapsed at this moment.

In the werewolf world, being publicly rejected by a Fated Mate was an ultimate humiliation more painful than death. It meant the forceful tearing of the soul bond, meant she was completely denied, deprived of the value of existence.

"AHHH—!"

A wretched scream burst from Elara's throat. She felt like her chest was abruptly torn open by an invisible hand, her heart dug out alive.

She collapsed to the ground in agony, her body convulsing violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spewed out, staining the soil beneath her red. The wolf that had just awakened within her let out a wail of despair, then fell back into dead silence.

"No... Kaelen... please..." She reached out her hand toward the high platform, her voice weak like a dying small animal, tears and blood mixed on her face.

Mara stood in the crowd, watching Elara struggle painfully, a triumphant, malicious smile on her face. She knew she had won.

Kaelen on the high platform watched the girl struggling in the mud and blood below, a flash of pain and regret in his eyes. His wolf slammed wildly against its cage inside him, letting out heart-rending howls because it lost its mate. The pain of that severing also acted on him, making his face pale and cold sweat pour down.

But he forcefully held it in. He couldn't be soft-hearted; he had made his choice, and there was no room for turning back.

He forced himself to look away, his voice as cold as winter ice and snow.

"Relay my order," he said to the guards beside him. "Elara is hereby banished from the Blackwood Pack effective immediately. She is no longer our kin. Throw her to the border of the territory, to live or die by fate."

Two tall guards stepped forward, dragging the limp Elara up like a dead dog, walking toward the outside of the territory.

Elara didn't struggle anymore, nor did she beg for mercy. Her eyes became empty and dead.

She took one last look at the high-and-mighty man on the platform. In that look, there was no adoration, no humbleness, only endless despair, and a sliver of cold hatred quietly brewing in the depths of her heart.

She was thrown out of the home where she had lived for eighteen years like trash.

Behind her was the pack gathering still bustling with noise. Ahead was the dark, cold, unknown dangerous Rogue territory, and a destiny destined for a lonely death.

But no one expected that this was not the end.

This was merely the beginning of a legend.

What was destroyed would eventually be reborn in a more powerful form.

 

Chapter 4: Brink of Death

 

The blizzard was like a hungry beast, devouring everything outside the boundary of the Blackwood Forest. The cold wind, wrapped in ice pellets, cut like knives against Elara's exposed skin.

She had been dumped here for three hours. Or longer? She didn't know. Time lost its meaning in pain and cold.

Her clothes, already tattered from the earlier shoving, couldn't withstand this bone-chilling cold at all. Her limbs had already frozen numb; every breath was accompanied by sharp pain from her lungs being frozen. More terribly, the soul-tearing sensation from the broken mate bond continued, like a dull knife constantly churning inside her.

She curled up under a dead tree, consciousness beginning to scatter. She thought of Kaelen's last cold, ruthless look, remembered Mara's smug ridicule, remembered the indifferent backs of her kin.

"Is this how it ends?" she mumbled to herself, voice so weak she couldn't even hear it herself. Dying here, becoming an unknown frozen corpse, might be the best relief for a "runt" like her.

Just as she was about to give up resistance and let the darkness swallow her, a spine-chilling low growl penetrated the wind and snow.

Elara snapped her eyes open, the instinct to survive making her struggle to sit up.

In the wind and snow, several pairs of eerie green eyes were staring at her maliciously.

Rogues.

They were criminals, madmen, and bloodthirsty ones banished by various packs. They had no sense of honor, no bottom line, wandering in the wilderness, taking pleasure in hunting the weak. For them, an injured, alone young female who didn't have the ability to shift yet was simply a delicious snack delivered to their door.

"Look what we found?" The lead Rogue shifted into human form. He was a burly man with a face full of scars. He was shirtless, indifferent to the severe cold, eyes shining with cruel and lewd light. "A tender-skinned little thing, and with the Blackwood Pack scent."

"Looks like she was abandoned." Another Rogue licked his lips, voice hoarse and unpleasant. "Perfect, we can have some fun, then tear her to pieces for dinner."

They let out bursts of ear-piercing laughter, slowly approaching Elara like a pack of evil wolves hunting a lamb.

Fear gripped Elara's heart like a cold hand. She desperately shrank back, back against the tree trunk, no retreat left. She tried to stand up and run, but her frozen legs didn't obey orders at all; she fell wretchedly into the snow.

"Stop struggling, little thing." The lead scar-faced man walked up to her, looking down at her like a cat playing with a mouse. "Be good and let us enjoy ourselves, I'll give you a quick end."

He reached out a rough large hand, grabbing at Elara's collar.

"Get away!" Elara screamed with all her might. She waved her hands wildly, trying to push him away.

Slap!

A loud slap struck her face hard. Elara's head buzzed, and blood flowed from the corner of her mouth again.

"Refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit!" The scar-faced man flew into a rage out of humiliation. He grabbed Elara's hair and slammed her head violently against the tree trunk.

Intense pain made Elara black out. In her dazed state, she felt several filthy hands wandering on her body, tearing at her remaining clothes. Despair, humiliation, and fear drowned her like a tide.

No! She couldn't die here like this! Die at the hands of these dirty beasts!

Why? Why did she have to suffer all this? What did she do wrong? Just because she wasn't strong enough? Just because she was a "runt"?

Kaelen's cold face reappeared in her mind. "What we need is strength, not a burden."

Hate!

An unprecedented, monstrous hatred erupted from the bottom of Elara's heart. She hated Kaelen's heartlessness, hated Mara's viciousness, hated the indifference of her kin, and hated these Rogues who wanted to trample on her even more!

"Strength..." She growled through gritted teeth, blood gushing from her mouth. "I want... strength!"

This extreme pain, despair, and hatred finally broke through that indestructible seal within her.

She felt something explode deep in her heart. A scalding, majestic energy instantly swept through her whole body, melting the frozen blood, reshaping her bones and muscles.

"AHHH—!!!"

Elara let out a heart-rending roar. This sound was no longer a human scream, but a wolf howl filled with primal wildness and kingly pressure!

The Rogues pressing on her were startled by this sudden change, their movements stalling.

The next second, they watched in horror as the thin and weak girl underneath them underwent an astonishing change. Her bones stretched and enlarged with cracking sounds, muscles bulged rapidly, and silver fur covered her whole body like wild grass growing madly.

"Wha... what is this?" The scar-faced man retreated in terror, voice trembling.

He had never seen such a violent, such domineering shifting process. The energy fluctuations that erupted actually made even a battle-hardened Rogue like him feel heart palpitations and weak in the knees.

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