Valeryn is corrupt.
Its Kingdoms and Its Peoples.
Its Royals and Its Servants.
Its Immortals and Its Mortals.
Its Packwolves and Its Rogues.
And as the chaos of a centuries-fought war draws closer to the Gates of Wendylon, The Wrath of The Fallen stand united, willing to plunge Valeryn into peril and madness, bone and bloodlust, fire and ice and shadow, and brimstone and starfire.
This World, and The Next, they will all tremble before His Wrath.
Cast out and imprisoned, shackled in blood and the depths of shadows for a birth defect bestowed upon him by The Gods, Asteryeon―stripped of his House-name―had only ever tasted the sun, and the forest, and the sea a handful of times before being sold as a Tribute to The Alpha Family of Midnight Sun: the wealthiest, civilised pack of The Easternlands, nestled deep in the Ashwald Forests of Ethaea.
It was a lonely, tiresome life, servitude. Cleaning, cooking, and pleasing Lords and Ladies, alike.
Though he had endured. Through whips and cuts and blades of silver and iron.
He thought he could handle anything. But when he failed to shift on the day of his eighth Passing, like all Wolven who failed, Asteryeon found himself chained to the Dungeons, left to rot, and bearing all the shame of sullying his once-proud ancestral legacy.
Because he is an Unchanged. A Wolfshifter born with no Wolf. Lower in status than even an Omega Wolf, a runt.
Six years later, Asteryeon could almost fool himself into thinking it had been another lifetime ago―being a prisoner on death row. A foolish, broken boy who had believed in the myth of True Mates, and Goddesses, and the Greatness of Humanity.
Now, free, with The Otherness in him stirring, Asteryeon of The Shadows, has found his place in the World, at last. No longer a boy full of naivety, but a man reshaped by rejection, and the cruelness of the world, and the insatiable hunger of three burning Demons who thirst for the End of the world.