Chapter one - The Moon Goddess’s Forsaken
BOOK ONE – THE WOLF BOUND MOON
Chapter one - The Moon Goddess’s Forsaken Mate
The Northlands were a place where winter never truly surrendered.
Jagged mountains pierced the gray heavens, frozen seas swallowed careless ships, and the great wolf clans ruled with blood, strength, and ancient laws older than kings themselves.
In those lands, every wolf knew their place.
Alphas ruled.
Betas served.
Omegas survived.
Or tried to.
I was the lowest of them all.
An omega born without wealth, without family, without a name anyone remembered. The servants whispered that I had been cursed from birth. Children laughed whenever I walked through the village. Even the weakest warriors believed they could command me.
Life taught me one lesson.
Hope was dangerous.
Then everything changed.
On the night of the Crimson Moon, every clan gathered inside the Hall of Wolves.
Massive cedar pillars carved with ancient runes reached toward the smoke-darkened ceiling. Viking banners hung beside enormous wolf pelts while warriors drank mead, waiting for the Moon Goddess’s blessing.
The High Seer stepped into the sacred circle.
Silver flames rose from the runes beneath her feet.
Her blind eyes opened.
“...The Goddess has spoken.”
Silence swallowed the hall.
“The Prince of the Northern Throne has found his fated mate.”
Excitement spread through the nobles.
Every noble daughter straightened her back.
Every powerful family smiled.
Then the Seer’s trembling hand pointed toward the last row.
Toward me.
“The forsaken omega...”
“...is chosen to become the Prince Consort.”
The world stopped.
Me?
Impossible.
I looked behind me, believing there had to be someone else.
There wasn’t.
The Moon Goddess had chosen me.
For the first time in my miserable life...
someone wanted me.
Tears blurred my vision.
Maybe...
maybe my suffering was finally over.
The celebration lasted exactly three heartbeats.
Prince Ragnar rose from his throne.
Tall.
Golden-haired.
Handsome enough to make songs.
His icy blue eyes held nothing but disgust.
“I reject this bond.”
Gasps echoed through the hall.
“The Moon Goddess may choose my mate...”
“...but I refuse to marry a weak omega.”
His voice was colder than the northern sea.
“I will not stain the royal bloodline.”
Every word struck like an axe.
The bond had barely begun...
and it shattered before everyone.
Humiliation burned hotter than fire.
I lowered my head, wishing the frozen earth would swallow me whole.
Then the eldest elder stood.
“The Goddess’s will cannot be denied.”
“If the Prince refuses...”
“...then the destined mate shall instead be given to the next eligible Alpha of the royal blood.”
The hall grew deathly quiet.
One name remained.
A man no one dared speak of after sunset.
The King’s younger brother.
The undefeated Alpha.
The Beast of the North.
Jarl Fenrir Blackfang.
Warriors claimed he had slaughtered an entire enemy clan beneath a single full moon.
Others swore he hunted monsters that even wolves feared.
Some whispered he was more beast than man.
Cold.
Ruthless.
Brutal.
A living legend wrapped in shadows.
No mate.
No heirs.
No mercy.
A heavy door groaned open.
The temperature seemed to fall.
Boots echoed through the hall.
One.
Two.
Three.
Every warrior lowered their head.
Even the King stood.
He entered wearing a black wolf cloak stained by snow, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. Silver streaks threaded through his dark hair despite his youth. A scar crossed one eye, making his expression even more terrifying.
His crimson gaze settled on me.
Not with hatred.
Not with desire.
Only quiet curiosity.
The elder bowed.
“Jarl Fenrir... by the decree of the Moon Goddess...”
“...this omega is now your destined mate.”
The hall waited.
Fenrir said nothing.
After a long silence...
he simply nodded once.
“He comes with me.”
No smile.
No promise.
No kindness.
Just a sentence.
As if claiming another weapon.
As if my fate had already been decided.
I followed him through the falling snow.
I did not cry.
I did not beg.
If death awaited me in the Blackfang Fortress...
perhaps it was kinder than the life I had already lived.
Three weeks passed.
The fortress was colder than any winter.
Its warriors feared their Alpha more than they feared death itself.
No one dared meet his eyes.
No one spoke unless spoken to.
And strangely...
he never hurt me.
He never shouted.
He never touched me.
Sometimes I wondered if he had forgotten I even existed.
Until one storm-filled night.
The wind howled against the wooden walls.
Fenrir stood beside the fire, pouring two cups of warm mead.
For the first time since our marriage...
he looked directly into my eyes.
His voice was low.
Quiet.
Almost gentle.
“My little wolf...”
My heart skipped.
“Tell me...”
A faint smile—so small it could have been imagined—touched the corner of his lips.
“...what must a man do...”
“...to earn a cub with your eyes?”
The cup slipped from my trembling hands.
For the first time...
the most feared Alpha in the North looked at me not as a burden...
but as someone he wished to build a future with.
And in that single moment...
everything I believed about the Beast of the North began to unravel.
