I was humiliated for spending my last five coins on a dying “monster”, but when I took the sack off his head in my cabin, I knew that the fate of the pack would be forever changed under his golden gaze.

PART 1

In the realm of wolves, worth isn’t measured in gold, land, or noble titles inherited from ancient human kings. It’s measured in the sharpness of the teeth, the speed of the charge, and the brute force of the bones colliding. Here, among the chestnut and oak forests surrounding the Sierra de Plata pack, deep in northern Spain, the value of an Omega could be counted on the trembling fingers of a hand frozen by winter. We were less than scraps of  chorizo  ​​and stale bread thrown to starving dogs; we were worth only the mercy that the strong, on their good days, were willing to grant us.

I, Aurelia, had learned this bitter truth written in every disdainful glance I received crossing the Plaza Mayor, in every insult whispered—and sometimes shouted—by the daughters of the Betas and Alphas. Every night I went to bed in my small cabin, the cold seeping into my bones and hunger gnawing at my stomach, while I could hear in the distance the music and laughter of others celebrating feasts. I was “the broken one.” The girl whose wolf had never arrived. My transformation had failed so spectacularly at seventeen that even mentioning my name brought shame upon my lineage. My parents died of grief, some said, though I knew they died of shame.

Five copper coins. That was all I owned in the world that November morning. The sum total of a life spent scrubbing floors and cleaning stables, begging for acceptance from those who saw me as less than human, less than a wolf, less than anything worthy of occupying space in this world. Five copper coins warming in a palm raw with despair.

While around me the marketplace buzzed with the frenetic activity of trading day and the casual cruelty of those born into power, I walked with my head down. Cassandra, the Beta’s daughter, stood there with her entourage, laughing at the foolish Omega, the pitiful creature who dared to walk among them.

“Look who’s coming!” Cassandra shrieked, her voice echoing off the church’s stone walls. “The ‘almost-human’ one. Are you going to buy some air, Aurelia? Because that’s all you can afford.”

I ignored their laughter, though each laugh felt like a whip across my back. My destination was Don Manuel’s vegetable stand, hoping he’d have some diced potatoes or turnips that no one wanted anymore. But then, something shifted in the air. A scent of wild pine, of stale ozone, hit my nose, stopping me in my tracks.

In a secluded corner of the square, where street vendors used to park their carts, there was a commotion. A merchant with a gypsy-like appearance, his skin tanned by a thousand suns and eyes that had seen too many roads, had a crowd gathered around him. But they weren’t looking at fabrics or spices. They were looking at a wooden box, hidden under a rotten tarpaulin.

Something was waiting in the shadows of that box. Something small, broken, and forgotten.

“Five coins!” the merchant shouted hoarsely. “Only five coins for the beast! It’s cursed meat, but it’ll do to feed your mastiffs.”

I approached, driven by a force I didn’t understand. People moved away, covering their noses or making the sign of the cross, murmuring about “bad omens.” Through the wooden slats, I saw a bundle covered by rough burlap.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper that cut through the sudden silence of the onlookers.

The merchant looked at me, assessing my patched clothes and my submissive posture.

“A wolf cub, girl. But a damaged one. Cursed merchandise. The previous owner covered its head because he said it was bad luck to look it in the eyes. It probably won’t survive the night.”

My heart skipped a beat. A puppy. Alone, scared, rejected. Just like me.

“I’ll buy it,” I said, before my brain could process that I was spending everything I had to survive the week.

Laughter erupted all around. Cassandra doubled over with laughter, pointing at me.

“The useless one buys the useless one!” he shouted. “It’s poetry!”

Ignoring them all, I placed my five coins in the merchant’s dirty hand. He looked at me with a mixture of pity and relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

—Yourself, girl. But be careful. There’s something about this creature that isn’t natural.

I carried the box. It weighed more than it looked, a dense, hot weight. I walked back to my cabin, a ramshackle structure on the far edge of the pack’s territory, almost in the forest, where the wind howled the loudest.

Upon arriving, I locked the door, though it was of little use against a determined Alpha. I placed the box on my splintered wooden table. The silence in the room was absolute.

“Hi,” I whispered, feeling stupid talking to a box. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

With trembling fingers, I unlocked the latch. The box door fell open. The puppy didn’t move, huddled in the darkness, its head still wrapped in that awful sack. Slowly, I reached out. I expected a bite, a growl, anything. But the animal remained still, exuding a silent dignity that chilled me to the bone.

“Let’s take that off,” I said gently.

I untied the rope around my neck. I pulled at the burlap. And then, the world stopped.

The pup raised its head. It wasn’t an ordinary wolf. Its fur was the color of storm clouds, streaked with veins of liquid silver that seemed to glow in the dim light of my kitchen. But it was its eyes that took my breath away. They were golden, but not the amber of animals I knew. They were pure, molten gold, swirling with flecks of silver and copper. And in their depths, I saw an intelligence that made me gasp.

He didn’t look at me like a dog looks at its master, nor like a wolf looks at its prey. He looked at me as an equal. Or perhaps, like a king looks at a loyal subject.

“My God,” I whispered, falling to my knees in front of the table. “What are you?”

The puppy tilted its head, and I could swear there was a flicker of gratitude in that ancient gaze.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” I asked, returning to practical reality.

I had no meat. Just some stale bread and a piece of rancid cheese. I broke it and offered it to him. He ate with aristocratic delicacy, without the desperate voracity I expected from a dying animal.

That night, he slept at the foot of my bed. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel cold.

Three weeks passed. And in those three weeks, my life, which had been a straight line of misery, became a spiral of impossible mysteries.

The first thing I noticed was his growth. It wasn’t natural. Every morning, he seemed to have gained a couple of kilos and several centimeters. His fur became denser, shinier, the silver streaks forming intricate patterns on his shoulders that sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, resembled ancient letters or runes.

The second thing was his intelligence. He understood everything. Not just basic commands, but complex conversations. Sometimes, when I told him about my days, about loneliness, about my deceased parents, he would place his enormous head in my lap and emit a low hum, a vibration that instantly calmed my anxiety.

I decided to call him Lynx. I know it’s a feline name, but his movements had that stealthy grace, that lethal precision of the wildcats of our mountains. And when I said the name for the first time, he nodded. He nodded, like a person.

But the most terrifying thing happened one gray morning, while I was sweeping the ashes from the fireplace. Lynx approached the pile of cold ashes on the floor. He stared at me, making sure I was paying attention, and then, with one of his front paws, he began to draw.

I froze, broom in hand. They weren’t scribbles. They were deliberate strokes, straight and curved.

L – I – N – X.

He wrote his name. In a mixture of Latin letters and symbols reminiscent of the ancient writing seen in the Roman ruins near the village.

“Can you… can you write?” I asked, feeling reality fracture.

He looked at me and his golden eyes shone with an uncanny intensity. Then, with a flick of his paw, he erased the letters and wrote something else:

VALDRIS .

I didn’t know what it meant, but the word resonated in my chest like the tolling of a bronze bell. I felt a chill run down my spine, a mixture of terror and reverence.

Before he could ask any more questions, a brutal bang on the door made the whole cabin shake.

“Aurelia!” Marcos’s voice, the leader of the pack’s executioners, boomed like thunder. “Open up right now! We know you have something in there that doesn’t belong to you.”

Panic choked me up. Marcos was Cassandra’s older brother, a sadist who enjoyed using his authority to torment the weak. If he saw Lince… if he saw how big he’d gotten…

Lynx didn’t growl. He didn’t hide under the bed like a frightened dog. He stood up, and at that moment I realized he already came up to my waist. He positioned himself between the door and me, his body taut like a bow ready to shoot.

“Hide,” I whispered desperately. “Please, Lynx. If they see you…”

He looked at me, and a voice echoed in my head. It wasn’t a sound, but a clear, direct thought, with the texture of a deep, ancient male voice.

“Do not fear, my little Omega. No one will touch you while I breathe.”

I was speechless, but the second knock on the door almost knocked it down.

“I’m coming!” I shouted, trying to sound calm.

I opened the door just a crack. Marcos was there, flanked by two of his thugs. Breath steamed from their mouths in the cold morning air.

“What’s wrong, Marcos?” I asked.

“We’ve received reports of theft,” he said, pushing open the door and forcing me back. They entered uninvited, filling my small space with their scent of harsh musk and leather. “You reportedly bought a stolen beast from an illegal trader.”

“I bought a dying puppy with my own money,” I retorted, my voice trembling despite my efforts. “I have a right to have a pet.”

“Omegas don’t have rights, they have obligations,” Marcos spat, looking around in disgust. “Where is he? It smells like wolves in here. But it smells… weird. Like old men.”

I looked toward the fireplace. Lynx wasn’t there. He had vanished. There was nowhere to hide in the one-room apartment, but he simply wasn’t there.

“He died,” I lied, praying they couldn’t hear my heart pounding. “I buried him yesterday. I told you he was sick.”

Marcos approached me, invading my personal space, his face inches from mine. I could see the cruelty in his dark eyes.

—You’re lying. The trail is fresh.

He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. I let out a scream of pain.

—Tell me where he is or I’ll make you howl for real!

And then, it happened.

A low, tectonic growl seemed to emanate from the very walls of the cabin. It didn’t come from one fixed point; it came from everywhere. The windows rattled. The earthenware dishes on the shelf clinked.

Marcos let go of me, turning on his heels, his eyes wide open.

“What the hell was that?” one of his men asked, pulling out a silver knife.

From the shadows of the darkest corner of the cabin, where daylight never reached, two orbs of liquid gold ignited. Lynx emerged from nowhere, as if he had woven himself from the darkness. But he was no longer the cub she had fed with bread. He seemed larger, darker, a living shadow with teeth.

“He’s a demon!” shouted the second man.

Marcos, regaining his composure, laughed nervously.

—It’s just a big dog. Kill it.

The two men lunged toward Lince. It was a mistake.

Lynx moved faster than the eye could follow. He was a blur of gray and silver. A swipe of his paw sent the first man flying against the opposite wall with a crack of ribs that made me shudder. The second, he simply growled in his face with such ferocity that the man wet himself and dropped his knife, crawling backward.

Marcos stood alone, facing the beast. Lynx took a step forward, and the wooden floor creaked beneath his weight.

“Go away ,” the voice echoed in all our minds. Not just mine this time. The three invaders clutched their heads, screaming at the psychic intrusion.

Marcos, pale as wax, looked at me with a mixture of hatred and absolute terror.

“What have you brought to our land, Aurelia?” he whispered. “This is no ordinary wolf. This is witchcraft.”

“Get out of my house,” I said, feeling a surge of courage I didn’t know I had, fueled by Lince’s presence by my side.

Marcos nodded slowly, stepping back towards the door.

—This isn’t over. Alpha Domingo will find out about this. And when he comes… not even your monster will be able to save you.

They ran down the hill. I closed the door and slumped against it, trembling uncontrollably.

Lynx approached me. His form seemed to shrink slightly, losing that nightmarish aura, becoming my companion once more. He licked the tears from my face with his rough tongue.

“We have to leave ,” said his voice in my mind, clear and urgent.  “They will return. And they will bring silver and fire.”

“Where to?” I asked aloud, stroking his massive head. “I have no money, we have nowhere to go.”

“Home ,” he replied.  “To my true home. In the mountains, where the stone remembers my name.”

I packed what little I had in less than ten minutes: a blanket, a rusty kitchen knife, a change of clothes, and the rest of the bread. We left through the back of the cabin, venturing deep into the woods, far from the trails patrolled by the pack.

The journey was arduous. The Spanish winter in the mountains is unforgiving. Fog clung to the valleys, and frost coated the moss on the ancient trees. We walked for days, always climbing, always toward the snow-capped peaks that grazed the northern sky.

I was growing weak from the cold and lack of food, but Lynx was getting stronger. He hunted rabbits and sometimes deer for me, leaving them at my feet and waiting for me to eat first, reversing the natural order of the pack where the Omega eats last.

During the nights, huddled under the roots of large oak trees or in shallow caves, he would tell me his story. Not with words, but with images he projected in my mind.

I saw a fortress of black stone, immense and majestic, hidden in a secret valley. I saw a family of powerful wolves, the Valdris, guardians of ancient knowledge. I saw fire and betrayal. I saw how the other packs, jealous of their power and fearful of their magic, united to destroy them three hundred years ago.

And I saw a puppy, the last heir, being saved by a wet nurse and hidden, passed from hand to hand, degraded, sold, until it ended up in that box in the market.

“You’re a prince,” I whispered one night, running my fingers through his fur. “And I bought you for the price of a loaf of bread.”

“You bought me with your heart, Aurelia. That’s worth more than any kingdom.”

On the fifth day, we arrived.

The valley was hidden by a magical illusion, a perpetual fog that misled any traveler. But Lynx walked through it as if it were smoke, and I, with my hand on his back, was able to follow him.

The fortress of Valdris loomed before us. It was a marvel of Gothic architecture, with gravity-defying towers, gargoyles that seemed alive, and obsidian walls that glittered in the light of the full moon.

“It’s in ruins,” I said sadly, looking at the vines that covered the low walls.

“The stone sleeps, but it is not dead ,” said Lince.

He approached the main gate, a ten-meter-high stone slab. There was no lock. Lynx bit his front paw, letting a drop of his golden blood fall onto the threshold.

The earth trembled. A deep sound, like that of a whale in the ocean, resonated in the air. The runes carved on the door lit up with blue light. And slowly, with a creak that shook off centuries of dust, the doors opened.

We entered a grand hall that resembled a cathedral. It was untouched. Dust covered everything, yes, but the grandeur remained. Statues of wolves and warriors gazed at us from the shadows.

“And now what?” I asked, my voice echoing in the vastness.

Lynx walked towards the center of the hall, where there was a platform with a giant crystal pulsing with dim light.

“Now I claim my inheritance. And you claim yours.”

—Mine? Lynx, I’m a failed Omega. I have no inheritance.

Lynx turned toward me. And then, he did something impossible. His body began to change. His bones creaked and readjusted. His fur retracted. He stood on two legs. The transformation, which for most wolves is painful and grotesque, in him was as fluid as water.

A moment later, a man was standing in front of me. Naked, magnificent, with hair the color of a storm and those same impossible golden eyes. He looked to be my age, maybe a little older, with a body sculpted by ancient gods.

“You’re not a failed Omega, Aurelia,” he said in his deep, melodic human voice, taking my dirty hands in his. “You’re a  Soul Bond . Your wolf never emerged because it was waiting for mine. Your power lay dormant, waiting for the right key.”

He led me to the glass.

—Put your hands on the stone. With me.

I was afraid. Afraid it wouldn’t work, afraid I’d get burned, afraid I’d wake up from this dream and find myself back in my cold bed. But I looked into his eyes, filled with absolute faith in me, and I knew I would follow him to hell if he asked me to.

I placed my hands on the cold glass. Lynx placed his hands on top of mine.

“I, Lynx of the House of Valdris, claim my blood. And I claim Aurelia as my companion, my equal, my queen.”

The light exploded.

It wasn’t pain. It was life. It was like a lightning bolt had been injected directly into my veins. I felt every cell in my body awaken, scream, and sing. I felt the wolf inside me, the one I thought was dead, opening its eyes, roaring with a force that could shatter mountains.

I saw the past. I saw the future. I saw the web of magic that connected all living beings. And I felt Lynx, his mind intertwining with mine in such an intimate way that I no longer knew where I ended and he began.

When the light faded, I fell to my knees, gasping. But I didn’t feel weak. I felt… infinite.

I looked at my hands. They shone faintly. I felt taller, stronger. My senses, once dulled by malnutrition and sadness, were now sharp as knives. I could hear a mouse’s heartbeat from a hundred meters away. I could smell the snow before it fell.

Lynx helped me up. He looked at me with a predatory and proud smile.

—Welcome home, my love.

“What do we do now?” I asked, and my voice sounded different. Louder. Regal.

Lynx looked south, towards where Sierra de Plata lay. Towards where Marcos, Casandra, and Alpha Domingo believed they still ruled the world.

“Now,” said Lynx, his eyes gleaming with the promise of a storm, “we’re going to pay them a visit. We’re going to remind them why the Valdris were feared. And we’re going to change the rules of the game forever.”

We spent a week in the fortress. A week discovering who we were. The Valdris library held secrets that would make the Vatican tremble. Books of elemental magic, of forgotten war tactics, of the true history of our species.

I learned that my “failure” to transform was actually a sign of blood purity. Modern Alphas were mixed-race, diluted. We were the return to the origin. I learned to channel my energy, to move objects with my mind, to communicate with Lynx across miles.

And we loved each other. God, how we loved each other. It was a union of bodies and souls, a celebration of having survived hell to find one another. Every touch erased a scar from my past. Every kiss was a promise of the future.

But the outside world was not waiting.

On the seventh day, Lynx came to me while I was reading a grimoire on the terrace of the highest tower. He was no longer wearing rags. We had found chests filled with antique clothes, silks, and fine leathers that, though old, retained their splendor. He wore a midnight-blue velvet tunic and a white wolf-skin cloak.

“They’ve come,” he said, his gaze fixed on the horizon of the valley.

I got up, feeling the power buzzing under my skin.

-Who is it?

—Hunters. Alpha Domingo has hired foreign mercenaries. They tracked our magic when we opened the gate. They’re crossing the valley’s perimeter right now.

I approached the edge and looked down. Miles away, tiny dark dots moved against the pristine snow. I sensed their murderous intent like a fetid odor on the wind.

—How many are there?

—Fifty. Armed with silver bullets and aconite.

I smiled. A smile that would have terrified old Aurelia.

—Poor devils—I said.

Lynx put an arm around my waist, pulling me towards him.

—Are you ready to show them your wolf, Aurelia?

—I’ve waited my whole life for this.

We went down to the parade ground. The air was electric. When we stepped out through the large gates, the fog parted before us, revealing the invaders.

Alpha Domingo led the way, mounted on a black horse, alongside Marcos and Casandra. They had brought the entire pack elite, plus the mercenaries. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted to see the monster and the traitor die.

When they saw us, they stopped. There was a moment of absolute silence. They hadn’t expected to see two regal figures, dressed like kings of old, descending the steps of a legendary fortress with the ease of someone strolling through a garden.

“Aurelia!” Domingo shouted, trying to project authority, even though his horse was pranced nervously. “Hand over the beast and your death will be swift!”

Lynx laughed. It was a terrible and beautiful sound.

“You are the beast, Domingo,” said Lynx, his voice amplified by the valley’s magic so that all could hear him. “You, who allow children to go hungry. You, who rule through fear.”

“Fire!” Domingo ordered the mercenaries.

Fifty rifles were raised. The roar of gunfire shattered the peace of the mountain.

I raised my hand. I didn’t need a stone wall. The air itself solidified before us. The silver bullets stopped in mid-air, floating like metallic bees trapped in amber, a meter from our faces.

Cassandra’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Marcos stumbled backward.

“My turn,” I said.

I made a fist. The bullets fell to the ground, harmless. And then, I let my she-wolf out.

It wasn’t a painful transformation. It was an explosion of white light. My body expanded, covered in fur as white as virgin snow, my eyes glowing electric blue. I was enormous, almost as big as Lynx. A pure Alpha wolf, something unseen for centuries.

Lynx transformed beside me, his gray and silver wolf form with shining runes eclipsing even the sun.

We roared together. And the sound wasn’t just heard; it was felt. It was a physical shockwave that knocked men from their horses and made mercenaries drop their weapons to cover their bleeding ears.

We charged at them. But not to kill. We were better than that. We were Valdris.

We moved like the wind. We disarmed the mercenaries in seconds, shattering rifles with precise bites, pushing the men into the snow. We didn’t spill unnecessary blood. We wanted submission, not massacre.

I arrived in front of Cassandra. She was on the ground, crying, trying to crawl away. I approached, my snout inches from her tear-streaked face. I could smell her terror, her urine, her utter defeat.

“Look at me ,” I projected in her mind.

She looked up, trembling.

“I could kill you right now ,” I told him.  “For every insult. For every time you dragged me through the mud. But I won’t. Because you’re not worth the stain on my teeth. Live with the shame of knowing that the Omega you despised spared your life.”

She sobbed, lowering her head in total submission, showing her neck.

Meanwhile, Lynx had Domingo pinned down beneath a massive paw. The former Alpha, the tyrant, looked like a rag doll under the power of the true King.

“I surrender,” Domingo gasped, his chest crushed. “The pack is yours.”

Lynx released him and returned to his human form. He stood naked in the snow, but no one dared to laugh. He radiated such absolute power that the wolves of the pack, one by one, began to kneel.

“I don’t want your pack the way it is,” Lynx said, his voice echoing through the valley. “Your pack is sick. It’s rotten with pride and cruelty.”

I transformed back into a human, the magic robe reappearing on my body. I stood beside him, taking his hand.

“Let’s build something new,” I said. “A pack where courage isn’t measured by teeth, but by heart. Where no Omega goes hungry. Where the ‘broken’ are welcome.”

I looked at the kneeling wolves, at the people of my village who had despised me.

“You may go,” said Lynx. “Return to Silver Mountain. Tell them what you have seen today. Tell them that the Valdris have returned. And tell them that anyone seeking refuge, justice, or a new beginning will find the gates of this fortress open. But tyrants… tyrants will find their graves here.”

Domingo, Marcos, and the others fled. But not all of them.

A group of young wolves, and some elders who remembered the old stories, stayed behind. They looked at us with hope, with admiration.

“Will you accept us?” asked a young Beta, whose clothes were almost as worn as mine used to be.

I smiled, squeezing Lynx’s hand.

—Welcome home—I said.

PART 2: THE WEIGHT OF THE CROWN AND THE SHADOWS OF THE SOUTH

The silence that followed Domingo and his loyal followers’ departure was not a silence of emptiness, but of expectation. In the courtyard of the Valdris fortress, beneath the imposing shadow of the obsidian towers, we remained: Lince, myself, and twenty-three other souls who had decided to risk everything for a promise of freedom.

Twenty-three. They were few to defend such an immense fortress, but more than I could ever have dreamed of leading. There were young wolves whose eyes still shone with an innocence not entirely broken, old men whose bones creaked in the mountain cold, and a couple of mothers with cubs in their arms who looked at me with a mixture of terror and devoted hope that made me feel small.

“And now what, my lady?” asked Tomás, the young Beta who had spoken first. His clothes were threadbare, and she could smell the sour aroma of malnutrition on him.

I looked at Lynx. He was standing by one of the stone gargoyles, watching the path our enemies had fled down. His profile was regal, stern, but when he turned toward me, his golden eyes softened.

—Now —said Lynx, his voice ringing with natural authority—, we eat.

It seemed like a trivial order, but in Silver Mountain, food was power. The Alphas ate first; the Omegas ate the leftovers, if there were any. To say that we would all eat, and eat now, was a revolutionary act.

We opened the fortress’s storerooms. To our surprise and relief, the magic that preserved the place had not only kept the stone intact, but also the provisions in the underground stasis chambers. We found barrels of aged wine that hadn’t turned to vinegar, sacks of grain untouched by weevils, and jars of crystallized honey that shimmered like amber.

That night, we lit a fire in the great hall. Not the timid little bonfires we made in the woods, but a roaring blaze in the main fireplace, so large you could roast a whole ox in it. The heat thawed not only the numb hands of our new followers, but their tongues as well.

I sat at a long oak table, not at the head, but in the middle, surrounded by the women and children. Lince sat opposite me. We shared freshly baked bread—a miracle we achieved by reviving the stone ovens—oil, cheese, and wine.

“I’ve never tasted wine before,” whispered an old woman named Doña Elvira, whose eyes were clouded by cataracts. “In Domingo’s pack, wine was only for the Council.”

—Here —I said, pouring a little more into his tin cup—, wine is for those who are thirsty.

But even as warmth filled the room, my mind couldn’t rest. I felt the weight of the invisible “crown” upon my head. I was Aurelia, the girl who cleaned stables a month ago. Now, these people looked to me, expecting me to have all the answers, to know how to cure their illnesses, how to protect them from Domingo’s inevitable revenge.

Later, when everyone was asleep on makeshift furs and blankets near the fire, I went out onto the rampart. The wind from the mountains cut like ice knives, but my new skin, strengthened by the bond with Lynx, barely felt it.

Lynx appeared beside me, silent as the shadow of a cloud.

“You’re worried,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Our mental connection was so clear that he could taste the sting of my anxiety on his own tongue.

“They are few, Lynx. And they are weak. Domingo will return. And he won’t come alone. He will go to the Council of Alphas in Madrid. He will tell them that we have awakened a forbidden magic. He will tell them that we are a threat to the Treaty of Silence.”

Lynx nodded gravely, resting his forearms on the cold stone of the battlement.

“He will. The Council of Spain is old-fashioned and paranoid. They fear the Valdris because we remember a time when wolves didn’t hide in the shadows of human society. But we have something they don’t.”

—A magical fortress?

“No. We have a cause.” Lynx turned, cupping my face in his warm hands. “Aurelia, Domingo is fighting for his ego. The Council will fight for its status. We are fighting for survival and dignity. A wolf protecting its family is ten times more dangerous than a soldier fighting for a coin.”

“We need to train them,” I said, looking out at the empty courtyard. “They don’t know how to fight. They only know how to obey or take blows.”

—Then we’ll teach them. You’ll teach them to be strong in spirit. I’ll teach them how to use their teeth.

The following days were a hazy mix of sweat, magic, and dust. The fortress Valdris, which had slumbered for three centuries, awoke with the roar of life.

Lynx was in charge of physical training. He was a relentless but fair instructor. He didn’t yell insults like Marcos. He corrected postures, taught the wolves to use their momentum, to work as a team. I saw how Tomás, the young Beta, went from tripping over his own feet to being able to take down a much larger opponent using a sweeping technique that Lynx showed him.

“You are not fighting dogs,” Lynx told them as the midday sun bathed the courtyard. “You are warriors of Valdris. You do not fight with hatred. You fight with precision. Hatred blinds; precision kills.”

For my part, I discovered that my role went far beyond being the heir’s companion. The library became my sanctuary. I spent hours deciphering ancient texts written in Latin and in the runic dialect of the first werewolves. I discovered that Valdris’s magic wasn’t only offensive. There were rituals of healing, protection, and cultivation.

One afternoon, one of the refugees, a girl named Carmen, fell ill. High fever, delirium, black marks creeping up her arm. It was an old infection, something she had caught in Domingo’s dungeons before escaping.

“She’s dying,” said Doña Elvira, crossing herself. “It’s the ‘Black Rot.’ There’s no cure, my lady. We should… we should isolate her before she infects the others.”

Fear spread through the room like wildfire. I saw in the eyes of my new subjects the reflection of their former lives: resignation in the face of death, the cruelty necessary to survive.

“No one will be removed,” I said, my voice ringing with an authority that surprised even Lynx, who had just entered covered in sweat from training. “Bring her to the stone table.”

—But, my lady… —Tomás began.

—I said bring her!

They laid Carmen on the table. She was burning hot. The infection smelled of rotten meat and sulfur. My wolf instincts rebelled, telling me to flee from the disease, but my human heart, and something older that awoke in my blood, kept me steady.

I remembered a passage I had read that morning.  “Light does not only reveal; light purifies . ”

I placed my hands on Carmen’s chest. I closed my eyes and searched for that well of golden energy that Lince had unlocked within me. It wasn’t easy. It required absolute concentration. I felt Lince approach from behind, placing a hand on my shoulder, lending me his strength without a word.

“Guide her ,” she whispered in my mind.  “Don’t fight the disease. Burn it alive.”

I inhaled deeply and visualized my energy as liquid white fire. I pushed it through my arms, into Carmen’s body. She arched her back and screamed, a heart-rending sound that made several wolves cover their ears.

“He’s killing her!” someone shouted.

“Silence!” roared Lynx.

Maintaining the flow of magic was exhausting. It felt like I was running a marathon uphill. My own life force was draining away, mingling with hers. But then, I saw it. The black lines in her veins began to recede, dissolving under the light emanating from my hands. The smell of decay was replaced by the scent of ozone and clean rain.

When I finally pulled my hands away, I staggered. Lynx caught me before I hit the ground.

Carmen opened her eyes. They were clear. The fever had broken.

The silence in the room was absolute. Then, Doña Elvira fell to her knees, sobbing, and kissed the hem of my robe.

“A healer…” he whispered. “A true Healing Queen. We haven’t had one in Spain since the time of the Catholic Monarchs.”

That was the moment when they stopped following us out of fear of Domingo or out of hunger, and began to follow us out of faith.

But peace is fragile in the world of wolves.

Two weeks later, a raven arrived at the fortress. It wasn’t an ordinary raven; its eyes were an unnatural green, and it carried a metal cylinder tied to its leg. It landed on Lynx’s shoulder while we were inspecting the repairs to the north wall.

Lynx unrolled the parchment. His face hardened, his features turning to granite.

“What does it say?” I asked, feeling a knot in my stomach.

—The Council of Alphas has called an extraordinary assembly in Toledo—he said, crumpling the paper in his fist until it turned to dust—. Domingo has spoken. They have declared us  “Aberratio Naturae” .

—What does that mean?

—It means they no longer consider us wolves. They consider us monsters that must be exterminated for the good of the species. They have authorized “Big Game Hunting.”

I felt my blood run cold. The Big Game Hunt was a terrifying legend told to the pups. It meant that any pack on the peninsula had permission, even the obligation, to kill us. It meant that it wasn’t just Domingo who would come. They would all come.

“How much time do we have?” I asked.

—Not long. Maybe three days before the vanguard arrives.

I looked toward the courtyard, where Tomás was teaching a group of children how to hold wooden sticks like spears. They were laughing. They were beginning to get some flesh on their bones and color in their cheeks.

“I won’t let them hurt you, Lynx,” I said, my eyes blazing with the blue fire of my inner wolf. “You bought my life for five pieces of silver, but I’ll make anyone who tries to touch this family pay dearly.”

Lynx smiled, a fierce and terrible smile.

—Then let’s prepare for war.

We spent the next two days fortifying the unfortifiable. Lynx and I used our magic to reinforce the gates, weaving protective spells into the wood and iron. We awoke the gargoyles. They didn’t fully come to life, but their stone eyes began to follow anyone who approached the walls, and we knew that if blood was spilled, they would fight.

But the real test would not only be one of strength, but of spirit.

The night before the enemy’s expected arrival, I found Lynx at the blacksmith’s. He had lit the main forge, fueled by the volcanic fire of the mountain itself. He was hammering a piece of red-hot metal, sparks flying around his bare, sweating torso like angry fireflies.

“You can’t forge a victory with a single hammer,” I said, leaning against the door frame.

Lynx stopped the blow and submerged the metal in a barrel of oil. The hiss was deafening.

“I’m forging something for you,” he said.

He took out the object. It wasn’t a sword. It was a dark silver bracelet, engraved with runes that intertwined like vines.

“Money is burning us up,” I said, frowning.

“Not this silver. This is lunar silver, mined deep within Valdris. It doesn’t harm our kind, but it amplifies your channeling.” She approached and placed it on my wrist. It fit perfectly, warming against my skin. “Aurelia, if I fall…”

—Don’t you dare finish that sentence.

“Listen to me. If I fall, the fortress will obey you. You are its mistress as much as I am its lord. You must promise that if the battle is lost, you will get the children out through the eastern tunnels.”

I looked into his eyes, those golden eyes that had seen centuries of loneliness before finding me.

“No one’s going to escape through the tunnels, Lynx. Tomorrow, when they come, they’ll see something they don’t expect. They’ll see that the broken Omega and the damaged pup have teeth sharper than their entire damned Council.”

He let out a soft laugh and kissed me, a kiss that tasted of ash, of iron and of desperate love.

At dawn, the sound of war drums echoed through the valley.

PART 3: THE SIEGE AND THE BETRAYAL OF BLOOD

The sun rose pale and sickly over the peaks of Sierra de Plata, as if the sky itself were afraid to witness what was about to happen. From the highest battlement, Lince and I watched as the valley filled with water.

There weren’t fifty mercenaries this time. There were hundreds. Flags of different colors fluttered in the icy wind: the crimson of the Ebro Pack, the dark green of the Galician Wolves, the black and gold of the Central Council of Madrid. And at the head of them all, like a peacock puffed up with pride, was Domingo, flanked by hooded figures who didn’t smell of wolves, but of dried herbs and stale magic. Sorcerers. The Council had brought human magical mercenaries.

“They’ve broken the rules,” I said with disgust. “Wolf affairs must be settled by wolves. Bringing in humans, witches… it’s an abomination.”

“They’re desperate,” Lynx replied, his voice as calm as the surface of a deep lake. “They’re afraid. Look at how their horses are moving, nervous. They sense the power of this land and they know they’re not welcome.”

A rider broke away from the main group and galloped until he was within a stone’s throw of the gates. He was carrying a white flag.

“Parliament,” said Lynx. “They want to talk before they kill. It’s the old protocol.”

—Are we going down?

—We must. If we show fear, they will attack with more ferocity. If we show arrogance, they will hesitate.

We went down to the courtyard and ordered the gates opened. Only Lince and I went outside. We left Tomás and the others inside, with strict orders not to fire unless we gave the signal.

We walked through the crunchy snow until we met the Council delegation halfway along the trail. Domingo was there, wearing a smug smile that didn’t reach his fearful eyes. Beside him stood an elderly man, impeccably dressed, who exuded a cold, bureaucratic authority: Don Rodrigo, the Council’s Grand Alpha.

“The Lynx of the House of Valdris,” said Don Rodrigo, his voice as dry as old paper. “And the Omega girl. Aurelia, right?”

“Mrs. Valdris to you,” I corrected, keeping my head high. My inner wolf growled, wanting to leap at her throat, but I held it back.

Don Rodrigo let out a condescending chuckle.

—You play kings in a ruined castle. You have violated the Treaty of Silence using forbidden magic. You have kidnapped members of the Silver Mountain pack.

“No one has been kidnapped,” Lynx interjected, his voice projecting effortlessly. “They came seeking refuge from tyranny. And the magic we use is ours by right of blood. It isn’t forbidden; it’s simply forgotten by those too weak to control it.”

Domingo took a step forward, the vein in his neck throbbing.

“You lie, beast! Return my subjects to me and surrender yourself for trial, and perhaps, just perhaps, the Council will take pity on you and allow you to live in a cage for the rest of your days!”

I looked at Domingo and felt a deep sadness. He was so small.

“We will not hand anyone over,” I said. “And we will not submit to a sham trial. This valley is sovereign land of Valdris. Any attack will be considered an act of war.”

Don Rodrigo sighed, like a grandfather disappointed with a spoiled child.

“What a shame. I had hoped reason would prevail.” He gestured to the hooded sorcerers behind him. “You have until sunset to surrender. After that, we will reduce this mountain to gravel.”

We turned around and walked back to the fortress, feeling the eyes of hundreds of enemies on our backs. We didn’t run. We didn’t look back.

When the doors slammed shut, the reality of the siege hit us.

“They won’t physically attack until nightfall,” Lynx said, gathering our defenders in the courtyard. “The sorcerers will prepare a ritual to weaken the magical defenses of the walls. We need to be ready.”

But the attack didn’t come from outside. It came from within.

At midday, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the pantry. We rushed there. Doña Elvira was on the floor, convulsing, foaming at the mouth. Beside her, a barrel of water had been overturned, and a sickly, cloying smell filled the air.

“Poison!” shouted Thomas. “They’ve poisoned the water!”

I knelt beside Elvira, my hands glowing with healing light, but it was too late. The poison was swift and brutal. Doña Elvira looked at me with panicked eyes, tried to say something, and then lay still. Dead.

A horrified silence fell over the room.

“What?” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “The doors are locked. No one has come in.”

Lynx stood up, his face a mask of barely contained fury. He sniffed the air. His golden eyes scanned those present, our small refugee family.

“No one has come in,” Lynx said, his voice a low growl. “The traitor is here. Among us.”

Panic erupted. The refugees eyed each other suspiciously. The unity we had painstakingly forged shattered in an instant.

“No one leaves this room!” I ordered, standing up. My grief transformed into cold anger. “Lynx, block the exits.”

I walked among them. I knew these people. I had healed their children, eaten with them. Who? Who could betray us after all we had done?

My eyes fell on Mateo, a quiet man who had arrived with the last group. He always kept to himself. Now, he was sweating profusely, and his heart was beating so fast I could hear it from three meters away. And he smelled… he smelled of that cloying aroma of poison. A tiny stain on his sleeve.

—Mateo—I said softly.

He broke down. He fell to his knees, sobbing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, ma’am!” he cried. “They have my daughter. Domingo has my little girl. He said if I didn’t do it… he’d skin her alive.”

Tomás lunged at him with a knife, blinded by rage.

—You killed Elvira! Traitor!

“Stop!” I shouted, using my Alpha voice. Tomás froze in mid-air, compelled by my command.

I looked at Mateo, a broken father, manipulated by a monster. I could kill him. The law of the pack demanded death for treason. Lynx watched me, waiting for my decision. I knew he would execute him if I asked. It was the old way.

But I looked at Elvira’s body, and then at Mateo’s terrified eyes. If I killed him, Domingo would win. Domingo wanted us to turn against each other, to become the monsters he said we were.

—Get up—I told Mateo.

“Kill me, please,” he sobbed. “I don’t deserve to live.”

“I’m not going to kill you. That would be easy. And I’m not going to throw you out, because you’d die out there.” I stepped closer to him and lifted his chin so he would look at me. “You’re going to live. And you’re going to fight. You’re going to fight harder than anyone else in this damned fortress to redeem yourself. You’re going to fight so we can get out of here and save your daughter.”

Mateo looked at me as if he saw an angel or a demon, I wasn’t sure.

—Save her?

—Yes. Domingo has made a mistake. He has used an innocent girl as a bargaining chip. And for that reason, I am going to destroy everything he loves.

I turned to Lince. He was smiling, a smile of absolute pride.

“Do we have a plan?” he asked.

“Yes. They expect us to defend ourselves. They expect us to stay behind these walls until we starve to death or their magic breaks us.” I looked at the setting sun, which was turning the sky blood red. “But we’re not going to wait. We’re going to attack.”

“It’s five hundred against twenty-five,” Lince pointed out, although he was already drawing an antique sword from the armory.

“We’re not going to attack with numbers,” I said, touching the silver moon bracelet Lince had made for me. “We’re going to attack with fear. We’re going to give them the nightmare they came for.”

That night, as the full moon rose over the valley, the enemy’s drums began to beat. The sorcerers began their chants, hurling orbs of green fire against our walls. The stones groaned under the impact.

We gathered everyone in the courtyard.

“Listen to me,” I said. “Mateo knows the location of the command camp. He knows where Domingo sleeps and where they keep the prisoners. Lynx and I are going out. We’re going to cut off the snake’s head.”

—And what about us? —asked Thomas.

“You’re the decoy. I need you to make noise. Light all the torches. Bang on shields. Make them think we’re preparing a mass exodus through the main gate. Draw their attention.”

Lynx took my hand. His touch was electric.

“There’s a passageway,” he said. “An old one. It comes out behind your lines, near the river.”

“Then let’s go,” I said. “For Elvira. For Mateo’s daughter. For us.”

We slid through the catacombs, the cold, damp air filling our lungs. When we emerged, we had our backs to the enemy army. The noise at the main gate was deafening; Tomás and the others were doing a magnificent job of making themselves look like a much larger army.

We saw the command tent. It was large, made of red silk, and lit from within.

“I’ll take care of the sorcerers,” said Lynx, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Their magic smells rotten. I need to clean it up. You go after Domingo.”

—Are you sure? Witches are dangerous.

“I am a Valdris, Aurelia. Magic runs through my veins. They merely borrow it.”

We separated. I moved through the shadows, using my connection to the earth to cushion my steps. I was a white shadow, a vengeful ghost. I reached the back of Domingo’s shop. I heard laughter.

—…tomorrow at noon they will be dead—said Domingo’s voice—. And we will divide the treasure of the fortress.

I took out my knife, but then I put it away. No. A knife was too human. I needed it to feel the fear of prey.

I transformed. My white wolf emerged, large and silent. I tore the tent fabric with a single swipe of my paw.

Chaos erupted inside. Domingo was drinking with Don Rodrigo. They both froze when a giant white wolf entered their sanctuary.

I roared. It wasn’t a normal roar. Amplified by my Alpha magic, it was a sound that shattered crystal glasses and blew out candles.

Domingo tried to reach for his sword, but I was faster. I leaped at him, pinning him to the ground. My jaws closed around his weapon arm. I squeezed hard enough to break the bone, but not enough to sever it. He screamed, a high-pitched, pathetic sound.

Don Rodrigo tried to run for the exit, but Lince appeared in the main entrance of the store. He was in human form, covered in black blood—the blood of the sorcerers—and his eyes were two suns.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Lynx with terrifying calm. “I believe we need to renegotiate the terms of surrender.”

Outside, the sounds of battle ceased. The sorcerers had fallen. Their leaders were captured. The mercenary army, seeing their paymasters fall, was left confused and leaderless.

I returned to my human form, naked but unashamed, covered with a cloak I grabbed from a chair. I placed my foot on Domingo’s chest.

“Where is the girl?” I asked.

“In… in the supply wagon,” he gasped, weeping with pain. “Mercy!”

“Mercy is a luxury you can’t afford,” I said. “But I won’t kill you today. I want you to live. I want you to see us turn your reign of terror to ashes and build a garden on top of it.”

Lynx dragged Don Rodrigo to the center of the camp.

“The siege is over!” Lynx roared in a voice like thunder. “Your leaders have fallen! Any wolf who wants to live, throw down your weapons and kneel! Any mercenary who values ​​his life, run before I change my mind!”

The sound of hundreds of swords falling into the snow was the sweetest music I had ever heard.

We rescued Mateo’s daughter. She was a tiny, terrified little thing, but alive. When I handed her to her father in the fortress courtyard, he wept and swore eternal loyalty to House Valdris. And this time, I knew it was true.

But while we were celebrating the victory, Lynx took me aside. His face was serious.

“We’ve won the battle, Aurelia. But this will only make the rest of the world fear us more. Don Rodrigo is an important member. The Council will not forgive this humiliation.”

“Let them come,” I said, looking at my new family, safe, fed, and protected. “We’re not five copper coins anymore, Lynx. We’re pure gold. And gold doesn’t break; it melts and transforms.”

“There’s something else,” Lynx said, gazing up at the highest mountains, where storm clouds were gathering. “While I was fighting the sorcerers… I felt something. Something ancient stirring beneath the fortress. I think the battle has awakened the Stone Guardians.”

The ground trembled slightly beneath our feet. It wasn’t an earthquake. It was a heartbeat.

The fortress was alive. And it was hungry.

PART 4: THE AWAKENING OF THE GUARDIANS AND THE GOLDEN DAWN

The tremors did not cease. For two days after our victory over the siege, the fortress Valdris vibrated constantly, a low-frequency hum that made teeth chatter and the hair on the back of the neck stand on end.

We had Domingo and Don Rodrigo locked in the deepest dungeons, cells lined with runes that nullified any attempt at transformation or magic. They were living trophies, guarantees that the Council would think twice before sending another army. But the real danger no longer came from outside.

“The mountain is speaking to us,” Lince said one morning, as we ate breakfast in the great hall. The vibrations rippled in his glass of water. “We have spilled much magical blood in the valley. The blood of the sorcerers, mine, yours. The fortress is reacting.”

“Is it dangerous?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Records of the ‘Awakening’ are vague. They say that in times of great need, the stone itself will rise to defend Valdris’s blood. But they also say that the price is high.”

That afternoon, the price became clear.

I was in the infirmary, checking on the battle wounded, when the ground shook violently. A crack opened in the center of the parade ground. But no lava or fire came out. Light came out. A pulsating blue light, cold and ancient.

And from the light, they emerged.

At first, they seemed like statues that had come to life. They were stone wolves, three meters tall, carved from the same obsidian as the walls. But they moved with a fluid grace. Their eyes were shining gems. There were four of them. The Guardians of the Cardinal Points.

The refugees screamed and ran for cover. The captured mercenaries we had put to work repairing the walls were paralyzed with terror.

Lynx and I ran to the yard.

“Back off!” Lynx ordered the people. “Don’t attack them!”

The four stone wolves turned toward us in unison. The sound of stone scraping against stone was deafening.

“VALDRIS BLOOD DETECTED ,” a voice resonated, not in the air, but in the very bone structure of everyone present. It was a tectonic voice.  “THREATENING. INITIATE PURGE PROTOCOL?”

“Purge protocol?” I whispered. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“They think we’re under occupation,” Lince said quickly. “They sense the enemy in the cells, they sense Domingo’s ex-soldiers. They’re going to kill everyone who doesn’t have Valdris blood.”

One of the Guardians advanced toward a group of children huddled against the wall. He raised a massive stone leg.

“NO!” Lynx shouted, jumping between the Guardian and the children.

It transformed in mid-air, its giant wolf form crashing against the stone. It was like watching a wave shatter against a cliff. Lynx was flung backward, rolling on the ground, stunned. The Guardians were invulnerable to physical damage.

“OBSTACLE DETECTED. REMOVE.”

The Guardian prepared to crush Lynx.

“STOP!” I shouted, running towards the center of the circle of light.

I raised my hands, and the moon-silver bracelet shone with a blinding intensity. I didn’t use brute force. I used my authority. I projected my Queen’s aura, my Alpha’s aura, amplified by all the love and fury I held within.

“I am Aurelia Valdris!” I shouted, my voice cracking with the effort of imposing my will on ancient magical beings. “Lady of this fortress! These are my charges! If you wish to harm them, you will have to go through me!”

The four Guardians stopped. Their stone heads turned toward me. Their gem eyes whirred, scanning me.

“BLOOD TEST: NEGATIVE. SOUL TEST: VALDRIS BOND CONFIRMED. AUTHORITY LEVEL: MAXIMUM.”

The Guardian that was about to attack Lynx lowered its paw slowly. It bowed. It was an awkward, almost visceral movement, but unmistakable. A bow.

“WAITING FOR ORDERS, MA’AM.”

The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the wind whistling between the towers. Lynx stood up, dusting himself off, and looked at me with awe and adoration.

“I think,” said Lynx, limping towards me, “that you have just tamed the mountain.”

“I think so,” I said, trembling with adrenaline. “Guardians, your order is to protect. Protect all who live within these walls. No one dies today.”

The Guardians nodded and went to the four corners of the wall, blending back into the architecture and becoming silent sentinels. Now, we had the ultimate defense.

With the fortress secured and the Council decapitated, the following months were marked by a dizzying transformation.

Winter gave way to spring, and with the thaw came more wolves. News of Domingo’s defeat and the “Miracle of Valdris” had spread throughout Spain. They came alone, entire families, and even some disgruntled Betas from other packs.

We didn’t reject anyone, but we established rules. Valdris’s Golden Rule:  The strong serve the weak . Those who wanted to join had to work. Warriors helped with farming. Healers taught reading.

Lince and I worked tirelessly. He organized his own council, not of wealthy Alphas, but of representatives elected by the community. Mateo represented the parents; Tomás, the warriors; Carmen, who had become my healing apprentice, represented the youth.

But one matter remained unresolved: the Council of Spain.

Don Rodrigo was still in our cell. One day, I decided it was time to end this. I went down to the dungeons, dressed not in armor, but in a simple white linen dress. Lince came with me, but stayed by the door.

“Don Rodrigo,” I said. The old man was thin, but he maintained his arrogant dignity.

—Have you finally come to kill me, girl?

—I’ve come to free you.

He blinked, confused.

—Free me? What for? So your stone monsters can hunt me in the snow?

—No. I’m going to give you a carriage and an escort to the valley’s border. You’re going to return to Madrid. And you’re going to deliver a message to the rest of the Council.

“What message?” he asked, suspecting a trap.

I opened the cell door.

“Tell them Valdris doesn’t want war. Tell them Valdris wants peace. But tell them also that if they send assassins again, if they threaten even one child under my protection… we won’t send armies. Lynx and I will go. Alone. And not a stone will be left standing in their mansions.”

I gave him something. It was a small copper coin. One of the five I had left, a reminder of my past.

—Give them this. Tell them it’s the price I paid for the King of the Wolves. And that it’s all his authority is worth to me.

Don Rodrigo took the coin with a trembling hand. He looked me in the eyes, and for the first time, I saw respect. Fear, yes, but respect.

—You’re dangerous, Aurelia Valdris. More than him.

—I am a mother protecting her home. There is nothing more dangerous in the world.

Don Rodrigo left. And he kept his word. The Council decreed an exclusion zone around Sierra de Plata. They declared us an “autonomous territory.” It was a polite way of saying they were too afraid to mess with us again.

One year later.

The fortress no longer resembled a ruin. The inner gardens bloomed with winter roses and medicinal herbs. The sound of laughter and hammering filled the air. We were a pack of nearly three hundred wolves.

I was on the battlement, watching the sunset, when Lynx hugged me from behind. His warmth was my home.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, kissing my neck.

I took the four remaining copper coins from my pocket. They were worn with age, but they gleamed in the orange sunlight.

“I think about that day at the market,” I said. “How close I came to buying rotten turnips and going back to my cabin to die slowly.”

Lynx placed his hand over mine, covering the coins.

—And instead, you bought your destiny.

I turned around in his arms.

—There’s something I haven’t told you.

Lynx looked at me, and his smile faded a little, replaced by intense curiosity.

—What’s going on? Is this the Council?

“No,” I smiled, taking her hand and placing it on my flat stomach. “Carmen examined me this morning. She says she hears two extra heartbeats.”

Lynx froze. His golden eyes widened. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. The great Warrior King, the tamer of mountains, was speechless.

“Two?” he finally whispered.

—Twins. The next generation of Valdris.

Lynx let out a cry of joy that made the Stone Guardians turn their heads toward us. He lifted me into the air, spinning me around, as I laughed under the vast Spanish sky.

Down below in the courtyard, our people looked up and began to cheer, though they didn’t know exactly why, they only knew that their leaders were happy, and that meant the future was bright.

I watched the copper coins fall from my hand as we twirled around. They landed in the courtyard, clinking against the stone. I didn’t need them anymore. I didn’t need reminders of my poverty anymore.

It was Aurelia Valdris. She had been the broken one, the useless one, the forgotten one. And now, she was the Queen of a pack built on hope, mother of kings, and the woman who loved the monster.

And as the sun set, painting the mountains purple and gold, I knew we had won. Not just the war, but something far more important: the right to write our own happy ending.

END