The Mark Of Orathyn

The future Lycan King was missing again.

By the time Rowan Blackthorn crossed the eastern courtyard, he had already searched most of the fortress. Snow crunched beneath his boots as he strode across the grounds, irritation growing with every dead end. The training fields had been empty save for a handful of warriors finishing their drills. The library had offered nothing except an offended librarian who seemed personally insulted that anyone would interrupt her morning. The kitchens had produced three separate sightings of Evren, each contradicting the last. Even the stables, usually one of the prince's favorite hiding places, had yielded nothing.

That alone should have worried him.

Instead, it only narrowed the possibilities.

Rowan found his father standing beside the central fountain speaking with two guards. Dylan Blackthorn dismissed them as soon as he spotted his son approaching. One look at Rowan's expression was enough for him to understand.

"You haven't found him."

Rowan folded his arms. "I've searched half the fortress."

"The kitchens?"

"Twice."

"The library?"

"Nothing."

A knowing look settled over Dylan's face. Without a word, he tilted his head toward the highest section of the fortress.

Rowan followed his gaze.

For a moment he simply stared.

Then he groaned.

"The roof."

His father's smile was answer enough.

A few minutes later, Rowan pushed open the narrow rooftop hatch and climbed into the freezing winter air. Snow blanketed the stone in a layer of untouched white, transforming the fortress into a landscape of silver and ice. Beyond the walls, mountains stretched endlessly beneath a pale sky, their peaks swallowed by drifting clouds.

Near the edge of the roof sat Evren Draven.

His legs hung casually over a drop that would have sent most people scrambling backward. Snowbirds clustered around him, hopping across the stone while he scattered crumbs from a loaf of bread. One particularly bold bird had settled on his shoulder and appeared entirely unwilling to leave.

Rowan stopped and stared.

Three visiting Alphas were waiting downstairs.

The council meeting had been delayed nearly an hour.

The royal steward looked ready to resign from public service altogether.

And the future king was feeding birds.

"The council meeting started forty minutes ago."

Evren glanced over his shoulder.

"There you are."

Rowan blinked.

"That's your response?"

"You found me."

"I wasn't searching for a lost puppy."

A grin spread across Evren's face.

"You clearly were."

Somehow, after years of friendship, Rowan still hadn't developed immunity to that grin.

He crossed the rooftop toward him, shaking his head. Most people looked at Evren and saw the future ruler of the Northern Kingdom. They saw power, privilege, and a destiny most would envy. They saw the son of Eros Draven, heir to the strongest kingdom in existence.

What they never saw was the weight hiding beneath it.

Responsibility followed Evren everywhere. Council meetings. Diplomatic negotiations. Lessons. Expectations.

Everyone expected him to become a king.

Few ever asked whether he wanted to.

"Tell me you didn't forget."

Evren tossed another crumb toward the birds.

"Completely."

Rowan closed his eyes.

"You forgot an entire council meeting."

"I remembered breakfast."

"That's not helping your case."

"I wasn't aware I had one."

Rowan tried very hard not to laugh.

The effort lasted less than three seconds.

Evren pointed immediately.

"There."

"Don't."

"You smiled."

"I didn't."

"You absolutely did."

"I hate you."

"You don't."

Unfortunately, they both knew that was true.

Still smiling, Evren finally stood and brushed snow from his coat. At nineteen, he already resembled his father enough to draw double takes from strangers. The same dark hair. The same silver eyes. The same height.

But where Eros Draven carried authority without effort, Evren seemed determined to spend his life pretending it belonged to someone else.

They headed toward the hatch.

"You know your father is going to kill you."

"He threatens that every week."

"One day he might mean it."

Evren considered the possibility.

"My mother wouldn't allow it."

Rowan laughed despite himself.

The confidence in that answer suggested far too much experience.

By the time they entered the council chamber, every seat around the massive table was occupied. Conversations died almost instantly. Several Alphas looked relieved to see Evren. Others looked irritated. One appeared personally offended by the prince's continued existence.

At the head of the table sat Eros Draven.

The king looked up.

That was all.

No raised voice.

No visible anger.

Just a steady silver gaze.

The room seemed to tighten around it.

Several nobles suddenly became fascinated by their paperwork.

Evren sat down beside Lucien.

"I've been informed that I'm late."

A muscle shifted in Eros's jaw.

Across the table, Lucien lowered his head suspiciously fast.

Evren narrowed his eyes.

"You're enjoying this."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's a lie."

Lucien turned a page.

"You wound me."

"The smile isn't helping your defense."

A corner of Lucien's mouth twitched.

"No, I suppose it isn't."

Beside the king, Freya lifted her teacup to hide her amusement.

The meeting resumed.

Trade routes were discussed first, followed by border disputes, harvest projections, merchant agreements, and enough political negotiations to make Evren question every life choice that had led him to this chair. He tried to pay attention. He genuinely did.

For nearly twenty minutes.

Then his gaze drifted toward the mountains beyond the windows.

Snow covered the peaks in brilliant white. Villages rested peacefully in the valleys below. Smoke rose from distant chimneys.

Most people looked at that view and saw prosperity.

Evren saw sacrifice.

His generation had inherited peace so completely that many treated it like a natural state of the world. They knew war through stories and history books. They had never stood on a battlefield. Never buried friends. Never watched kingdoms crumble.

The peace surrounding them had been bought by people who never lived long enough to enjoy it.

A sharp kick landed against his boot.

Evren looked up.

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

"You stopped listening."

"I was listening."

"What are they discussing?"

Evren opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Lucien sighed.

"I rest my case."

Before Evren could formulate a defense, the council doors burst open.

"Mother!"

Every noble in the room visibly flinched.

Mira Draven swept into the chamber with all the subtlety of a natural disaster. Long dark hair bounced behind her as she marched toward the table. A white fox raced after her, skidding across polished stone before launching itself directly into the lap of a visiting Alpha.

The man nearly fell out of his chair.

Lucien covered his face.

Evren suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

Neither brother possessed enough courage to involve themselves.

"Mira."

The single word from Eros halted the room.

His daughter stopped immediately.

The fox stopped too.

Father and daughter stared at one another.

Several seconds passed.

Then Mira smiled.

Sweetly.

Eros closed his eyes.

Freya laughed.

The outcome had been decided.

"What happened this time?" Freya asked.

"Nothing."

"That answer never reassures me."

Mira looked genuinely confused.

"I don't know why everyone keeps saying that."

No one volunteered an explanation.

The meeting ended not long afterward, largely because maintaining order had become impossible.

By late afternoon, the fortress had settled back into its familiar rhythm. Snow continued falling beyond the walls while servants moved through the corridors and guards rotated shifts.

Evren eventually escaped to a western balcony overlooking the valley.

The cold air felt better than politics.

For a while he stood there in silence, watching smoke rise from distant villages. The mountains stood motionless beneath the winter sky.

Everything looked peaceful.

Then pain struck.

The force of it stole the breath from his lungs.

His hand slammed against the stone railing as heat exploded through his chest. For one disorienting moment the world tilted beneath him. The mark hidden beneath his shirt burned so fiercely that he thought it might tear through skin and bone alike.

A pulse spread outward.

Then another.

And another.

The symbol felt alive.

Evren gritted his teeth and pressed a hand against his chest.

No.

Not now.

Not after all these years.

The burning lasted only seconds before disappearing entirely.

Silence rushed back into the space it left behind.

His pulse continued hammering against his ribs.

"What happened?"

Evren looked up sharply.

Freya stood in the doorway.

He hadn't heard her approach.

Somehow that unsettled him more than the pain.

"The mark reacted."

She froze.

The color drained from her face so quickly that he almost wished he hadn't spoken.

"What did you say?"

"The mark."

Even saying the words felt unreal.

"It burned."

Freya crossed the balcony in three quick strides.

"What do you mean burned?"

Her hands closed around his wrists before he could answer. The movement was so immediate, so instinctive, that it reminded him of a wolf shielding its young.

"When?"

"Just now."

"How long?"

"A few seconds."

"A few?"

"I wasn't timing it."

The attempt at humor fell flat.

Neither of them smiled.

Freya searched his face as though looking for something only she could see.

For years she had searched for answers. Ancient texts. Forgotten records. Legends most scholars dismissed as myths.

Nothing.

Nineteen years of questions.

Nineteen years of silence.

And now this.

"It stopped," Evren said quietly.

Freya nodded once.

Then again.

Her fingers loosened, though she didn't step away.

Snow drifted between them.

The mountains stood silent beyond the balcony.

For the first time in years, Evren saw uncertainty in his mother's eyes.

Not confusion.

Not curiosity.

Something far heavier.

She lifted a hand and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, a familiar gesture from childhood that somehow made him feel younger than nineteen.

"We'll find the answer."

Her voice remained steady.

He wondered if she knew he could hear the strain beneath it.

Still, he nodded.

Because for the first time since the burning stopped, he wasn't sure what else to do.

Far beyond the Northern Kingdom, hidden beneath a mountain untouched by time, silver symbols flickered across an ancient wall of black stone. Dust stirred within abandoned corridors. Light flashed briefly through ruins that had slept for thousands of years.

Then darkness returned.

But something had awakened.

And deep beneath the mountain, something that had remained silent for ages finally opened its eyes.