Chapter 5 The curse

Aldric's breath came in short, heated bursts as he stood over the fallen body of the ancient witch. The battlefield had gone quiet, his soldiers lingering at the edges, waiting for the final blow to be struck. Aldric's wolf raged inside him, snarling with fury, but beneath that was a flicker of unease he couldn't shake.

The witch had mentioned his unborn child, how would she even know that?

Lysandra. His thoughts went to her at once. His queen, his mate. The one person in the world who saw the humanity in him when everyone else only saw the beast. She was carrying their child-their son, the future alpha of Vordane-and now,

The old witch, even in her final moments, seemed to sense the shift in Aldric's thoughts. She smiled up at him, her face bloodied and torn, but her eyes still sharp, burning with a knowing malice.

"The boy..." she croaked, her voice weaker now but still filled with venom. "He will bear the weight of your sins."

Aldric's fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, the urge to silence her for good nearly overwhelming. He could feel the magic in her words, crawling under his skin like ice. But he stood still, watching her with cold, predatory eyes.

"What is it you speak of, witch?" he growled.

Her bony fingers twitched, as if clinging to the last remnants of life. "Your son... will not be as you are. He will be trapped in the body of a beast, a wolf. A creature without the ability to shift. And only through love-the love of his mate, who must see him for what he is-will he be freed."

Aldric's eyes blazed with fury. He could barely comprehend the scope of her words. To curse his child-the future alpha of Vordane-to such a fate was unforgivable. His sword hovered in the air, ready to sever the witch's head from her body, but before he could act, she spoke again.

"He will suffer," she whispered, her lips curling into a twisted grin. "As you have made others suffer."

Aldric's wolf snapped.

With a snarl, he brought the blade down in a swift, brutal arc, decapitating the witch in one stroke. Her body slumped to the ground, lifeless at last. The air around them stilled, but the weight of her curse lingered, heavy and oppressive.

Aldric stood there for a moment, his chest heaving with fury. He had won the battle-destroyed the coven and claimed their land-but it felt hollow. This victory had cost him something far greater than land or power.

Slowly, he sheathed his sword and turned away from the witch's corpse. His soldiers were waiting, their eyes filled with admiration and fear. But Aldric had no desire for their praise.

The only thing on his mind now was Lysandra and the child she carried.

_____

The journey back to Vordane was long, and for once, Aldric found no satisfaction in the sight of his vast, sprawling kingdom. He rode at the head of his army, his wolf barely contained beneath the surface of his skin, his thoughts consumed by the curse. The soldiers around him kept their distance, sensing the simmering rage within their king.

The gates of the capital loomed ahead, and beyond them, the great castle of Vordane where Lysandra waited. Aldric's heart clenched at the thought of her. How could he face her now? How could he tell her that their son-his heir-had been cursed because of his own actions?

As they rode through the city streets, the people cheered for their victorious king, unaware of the shadow that now loomed over their royal family. Aldric barely acknowledged them, his mind too focused on the curse. He would not speak of it. Not yet. He would find a way to undo what had been done.

He had to.

When they reached the castle, Aldric dismounted and strode through the grand halls, his boots echoing against the stone. Lysandra would be in her chambers, waiting for him, eager to tell him of the progress of their unborn child. She had been so happy, so hopeful. How could he shatter that?

He pushed open the doors to her chambers, and there she was-Lysandra, standing by the window, her long silver hair cascading down her back. She turned when she heard him enter, her face lighting up with joy.

"Aldric," she said, her voice soft and warm, as she crossed the room to embrace him. "You're home."

He pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. She smelled of lavender and the forest after rain. For a moment, he let himself relax in her presence, forgetting the darkness that loomed over them. But it didn't last. The witch's words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of what he had brought upon them.

Lysandra pulled back slightly, her hand resting on his cheek. "Something troubles you," she said, her eyes searching his.

Aldric forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It is nothing, Lysandra. Just the weariness of battle."

She frowned, sensing the lie but not pressing him. Instead, she took his hand and placed it gently on her swollen belly. "Our son grows stronger every day," she said, her voice filled with pride. "He will be a great alpha, just like his father."

Aldric's heart twisted painfully in his chest. How could he tell her that their son had been cursed? How could he destroy her happiness, her hope?

He couldn't. Not yet.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "He will be," he murmured, though his voice held a hint of uncertainty.

But Lysandra didn't notice. She smiled, her eyes shining with love and faith in their future. "You've always protected us, Aldric. I know you will continue to do so."

Aldric nodded, though inside, he felt the weight of the witch's curse pressing down on him. He would protect them-he had to. But how could he protect his son from a curse that bound him to the form of a beast?

____

That night, Aldric sat alone in the war room, a map of the conquered lands spread out before him. His advisors had gathered earlier to discuss their next move-the expansion of Vordane's borders, the fortifications of the newly claimed lands-but Aldric's mind had been elsewhere.

He dismissed them all quickly, preferring the solitude. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room, but Aldric's gaze was fixed on nothing in particular. His wolf stirred within him, restless and uneasy, and the weight of the curse pressed down on him like an iron chain.

He could still hear the witch's final words, the cruel curse she had placed on his son. How could he allow this to happen? His son-the future alpha, the future king of Aramore-would be a beast, trapped in his wolf form unless his mate accepted him. The idea of his child being dependent on another's acceptance made Aldric's blood boil.

He had spent his life ensuring that he was beholden to no one. He was a king, a ruler, a force of nature. He bent others to his will, not the other way around. And yet his son would be bound by this curse-forced to rely on the whims of another.

It was unacceptable.

Aldric slammed his fist down onto the table, the wood cracking under the force of his anger. His wolf howled inside him, desperate for release, but Aldric held it back, his control ironclad. He couldn't afford to lose himself now. Not when so much was at stake.

Mere words of a dying witch, he tells himself

But as the night wore on and the shadows grew longer, Aldric couldn't shake the feeling that this battle-this war against the curse-would be unlike any he had ever fought before.

This was a war against fate itself