Mira Thornvale

Ten years ago, Alvin lost his mother and sister during the werewolf rebellion. He witnessed a masked silver wolf from the rebel ranks slaughtering the innocent, and from that moment on, he harbored an undying hatred for the silver-blooded werewolves. He swore an oath to one day purge every last "wolf tainted with silver blood."  During a hunt, Alvin captured a grievously wounded girl. She was covered in blood, yet around her neck hung the carved bone necklace his sister had lost long ago. Believing her to be a grave-robbing rebel, he coldly ordered her locked in the dungeon to be interrogated under torture.


Beneath Twin Moons

The crystal throne hall shimmered with blue light, carved entirely from frozen waterfalls and snowglass. Fractals danced across the walls as Alvin stepped behind Frey, his boots echoing on the polished ice floor.


He’d been silent since they entered her city—if it could even be called that.


Half-wolf, half-human children played beneath frost lanterns. Traders spoke in hushed voices. Some bowed when Frey passed. Others merely watched in awe.


It felt like walking through a dream that hadn’t ended in fire.


Frey turned slowly, pulling back the fur-lined hood.


Her hair was longer. Paler. Her face thinner, ethereal—but still hers.


Alvin could barely speak. “You died.”


He stepped forward. “I carried your ashes.”


“You carried the ones I left behind.”


“The altar,” she said softly. “It burned my wolf. But it also bound me.”


Chapter 19: Snowborn Legend