The Alpha King

Prologue

Prologue

10 years earlier

Aaliyah

The air was crisp with the smell of blood. The war had waged for weeks already, and we were losing. Every day, more and more bodies filled the streets, and every day, more and more families lost their loved ones. I just prayed that mine wasn't next.

"Aaliyah," My father kneeled in front of me, a smile tugging at his lips, but the rest of his face told the truth. He'd been worn out from the war. Father was the Commander of our army, he'd seen everything up close and took it all very personally.

For centuries, the wolves lived at peace with us. Eating at our tables, going to our schools. But suddenly, one day, everything changed. And our two worlds were divided by hate and distrust. Some speculate that there was an affair between the Alpha King and a human—some say it was his sister and a human. No one really knows the truth, we all just know who the enemy is—the wolves.

"Aaliyah," my father drew my attention back to him, "Do you remember what I asked you to do if anything happens to me?"

How could I forget?

I nodded, "Yes."

His hand cupped my cheek, "Find Madame Lejon and join the Creed. They will teach you everything you need to know."

He told me this every morning before leaving for the front lines— it was well engraved into my mind. The Creed had been created years before the war when the hostility between man and wolf worsened. Madame Lejon created a home for girls to be trained in killing. Killing wolves. Our world has come to ruins due to the Alpha King and his rule, the Creed is a sworn society to keep our two worlds separate.

"Aaliyah—"

"Father," I took his hand in mine, "You're going to be ok."

His smile tightened and his eyes fell, "I pray you're right."

Before I could protest—tell him that everything would be ok, he stood up. Mother stood behind me, her presence somber.

"Malcolm," her voice was broken, "I don't feel right this time. You should stay."

Mother supposedly had visions. Father chalked up my mother's antics to being a symptom of a concussion she suffered years back after falling off a ferry. But Mother protested, telling stories of witches and magic. Arguing that she herself possessed such powers. In our world, that kind of talk would get one locked up, but Father kept it quiet—kept us quiet.

"Andrea," my father took her shoulders in his hands and gave her his routine kiss on the cheek, "Every day isn't guaranteed for me, you know this."

"Mal—"

With one last kiss to Mother, he ruffled my hair and sheathed his sword. Mother began to cry as he walked out. He didn't look back—he never does. I often wonder if he doesn't look back because he knows he'd stay. Stay here, with us, where it's safe.

I watched as he walked down the path towards the other men. His back was upright and his head held high. I knew my father. He feared every day that he might lose his life to the war, but he'd never back down without a fight. Thousands depended on him, and he wouldn't let anyone down. Even if it meant he had to let Mother down.

"Goddess, please," Mother fell to her knees and began muttering a prayer. Father often ignored her nonsense about Gods and Goddesses. In our world, there was one God—one Creator—anything else was heresy.

I've always been surprised at my Father's kindness to her. Unlike my friend's fathers, my father was a kind soul. Despite his title, despite his work, he was kindhearted. No one could convince me otherwise. While other fathers had dragged their wives straight to the Church for such antics, Father kept it secret. When he spoke of her—when he explained why she wasn't around— he was always kind. Always.

She continued muttering on the ground, clutching a string of crystals between her knuckles.

"Mama," I laid a gentle hand on her back, "It will be ok."

Her muttering ceased and tearful eyes met mine, "One day you will understand, Aaliyah. They aren't the enemy. We are."

Her words sent a shiver down my spine.

She couldn't mean the wolves, could she? She wasn't crazy enough to defy the Church, was she?

Her eyes tore away from me and she began muttering to her gods again—leaving me in wonder. Father would ignore these things, but I held onto them. It was embarrassing to have a mother like her. When I was younger, I found myself obsessed with her stories of magic and witches and wolves. It was like a fairytale. Now that I know the evils that lay in all of those devilments, I find myself pushing away from her. Pushing away the thought that this woman was my mother. Sometimes I wished Father would turn her in so that the Church could deal with her—ship her off to one of those Asylums. But deep down, I knew that was wrong. I knew that my hatred of Mother's nonsense was wrong. But I couldn't help it. While Father defended the people, Mother despised them. And I just couldn't understand that.

I especially couldn't understand it when the guards came knocking on our door that night. Mother wasn't the one to answer. And in their hands was a helmet—Father's helmet. I don't remember the exact feelings that surged through me at that moment, but I remember feeling like I was falling. Like the ground underneath me had cracked open, and the devil swallowed me whole himself.

I remember Mother when I broke the news to her. Her eyes stayed glued to the wall—unblinking— as she continued muttering her pagan prayers. I'd never forgive her for that. In fact, it was I who turned her into the Church myself. I didn't even look at her when she cried for me. I couldn't. Not after everything that had happened.

And once she was forced into the wagon with the others to be shipped off to the Asylum, I joined the Creed. Madame Lejon made sure that I had a grand welcome, the daughter of the fallen Commander. She believed there to be great things in store for me. In fact, she took me directly under her wings and trained me up to be the best assassin in the Creed. And the oath I took, I'd never forget. I'd kill the brute who murdered my father, and anyone else who got in the way. 

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Hi All!

Thank you so much for reading!

Episodes will be published on Radish first, then on her. You can find the book on Radish under the name "Anisha". 

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Much Love,

Anisha