Wolf Born:The Lost Princess

WOLF BORN: THE LOST PRINCESS

The wind howled through the trees, its mournful sighs rattling the shutters of the small cottage where Elara worked by candlelight. The forest loomed outside, its dark edges whispering with unseen creatures. She had never feared the woods, though the villagers did. They told stories of beasts with eyes like burning coals, of howling figures that stalked the night.

Elara knew better. Since her childhood, she had strolled among the trees, and not once had she seen the monsters that they feared. Still, the forest felt alive, its presence a quiet hum in her bones.

Tonight, though, the night held something different-something waiting.

"Elara?" Maren's voice cut through her thoughts. The old woman healer ground herbs with a mortar at the small wooden table, her expression a map of worry, deeper than usual. "You are distracted again."

Elara huffed out a sigh and rubbed her hair back. "Tired. Just tired. This storm- "

A loud crash broke the night.

Elara and Maren shared a jolt. From outside. It had been. From the treeline. One beat later a low, animalistic growl came.

Elara spotted a lantern. "Someone's out there."

Maren's eyes went black. "Don't go, child."

But Elara was already running. She shoved open the door, icy wind slapping her in the face as the rain pounded against her skin. She ran toward the sound, feet light on wet earth. And then-

A man lay there, crumpled at the base of a tree, his body covered in blood.

Her breath caught. He was huge, impossibly broad, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged gasps. His dark hair clung to his face, matted with rain and blood. But it was his eyes that stopped her cold.

A deep, piercing gold.

Not human.

Lycans. The beasts the village dreaded.

Elara faltered only for a moment before she knelt beside him. His breathing was labored, his skin scorching hot. She reached out to touch him-

His hand snapped out, gripping her wrist.

Elara gasped, but before she could react, his lips parted. His voice, hoarse and broken, sent chills racing down her spine.

"Princess... you're alive."

Elara backed away, her heart hammering.

Princess?

Maren stood beside her, face grim. "Inside. Now."

With more strength than Elara would have credited a woman of her advanced age, she helped Elara drag the injured man inside.

He dropped onto the wood cot, breathing heavily. Elara hastened to press cloth to his wounds. His body was a latticework of scars-old and new.

And then he spoke again.

"You don't know, do you?" His voice was thick with pain, but his golden eyes burned into her. "You don't remember."

Elara frowned. "Remember what?"

Maren inhaled sharply. "You should rest," she said, too quickly.

But the man-Thorne-wasn't finished. He turned his head, locking eyes with Elara.

"You're not just some village girl," he rasped. "You're Elara Nightbane. The Wolf King's daughter. The heir to the throne."

The words hit like a physical blow.

She laughed-a short, disbelieving sound. "That's insane."

Maren said nothing.

Elara turned on her. "Tell him he's wrong."

Maren would not look at her.

The silence yawned.

A cold shiver crawled down Elara's spine.

"No," she whispered. "This is wrong. This must be."

But in the deepest place, in the place she refused to look, something shifted. A missing piece settling into place.

Thorne's golden gaze didn't waver. "Malgar took everything from your father. And he thinks you're dead. If he finds out you're alive-"

"Enough." Maren's voice was sharp.

Thorne's breathing was slowing now, exhaustion claiming him. But before his eyes closed, he whispered one last thing:

"The kingdom needs you, Princess."

Through the wilds

Elara ran.

The moment Thorne fell unconscious, she fled the cottage, her breath coming in short gasps. The forest was dark and wet, the trees pressing in around her.

This is insane.

A princess? The heir to some lost throne? Malgar? The Wolf King?

Her whole life, she had been just Elara, a girl raised by a healer, living in a quiet village. The idea that she was anything more-anything greater-was madness.

Yet... something inside her stirred.

A voice in her head. A whisper of truth.

"Elara."

She whirled. Maren stood there, her expression unreadable.

"You knew," Elara said, her voice shaking.

Maren hesitated, then nodded. "I found you when you were just a child. You were near the forest's edge, wounded, alone. You didn't remember anything."

Elara's heart pounded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Maren's voice softened. "Because I wanted to keep you safe."

Before Elara could respond, a low growl echoed through the trees.

Maren stiffened. "We need to go. Now."

Elara turned-and her blood ran cold.

A figure stood in the shadows. Eyes red as embers. Teeth gleaming in the darkness.

Not human.

Not Lycan.

Something else.

The storm raged overhead as the creature lunged.