Chapter 11 Drawn to My Past
DAHLIA
The morning came too soon. Dawn crept over the hills like a whisper, painting the sky in soft pink and gold, but my heart felt heavy; leaden, uneasy.
I didn’t bother dressing myself up with too much jewelry. I wore the gown Zola had picked out, but my mind was too crowded with thoughts to care about looking perfect. I tied my hair up in a simple bun, swiped on red lipstick, and decided that was enough.
The pups were still asleep when I kissed them goodbye. Libby stirred, mumbling my name, and I almost stayed. Almost. But Zola’s words echoed in my mind “Go and claim your life.”
The carriage ride to the neighboring pack was long and silent, the air thick with tension. The other women sat stiffly, each lost in her own world of fear, hope, or ambition. Some adjusted their gowns nervously, others whispered prayers under their breath. I just stared out the window, watching the forest rush by in shades of green and shadow.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t been to gatherings before. Years ago, I’d stood in crowded halls smiling at people who only saw my bloodline, not me. But this felt different. Heavy. Fated.
The Lycan King, Dagnoth Draculis. The name alone sent chills through every pack under his rule. He was said to command entire armies with a glance, to tear through enemies without blinking. Some said he had no heart left to fall in love with. Others said he’d lost it the day his wolf began to fade.
And now, we were being gathered so he could find the one fated to restore it.
The carriage came to a stop in front of the massive hall. It loomed over us like a shadow carved in stone tall pillars, banners bearing the royal crest, and guards in black armor flanking the entrance. Every instinct in me screamed to turn back.
“Next group, move,” a soldier barked.
I swallowed hard and stepped out, my legs trembling slightly. The other women followed, adjusting their dresses, trying to hold their heads high. My palms were damp. I told myself to breathe.
The hall was breathtaking, chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen stars, and golden light spilled across marble floors. Dozens of maidens filled the space, their gowns a sea of colors. Some whispered to each other, giddy with excitement. Others stood alone, faces pale with fear.
And then there was me, somewhere in between feeling nothing at all.
I wasn’t there for love. I wasn’t there for glory. I was there for survival. For my pups.
I found a quiet corner near a stone column and closed my eyes for a moment. My wolf stirred inside me, her voice soft but firm.
“You’re trembling.”
“I’m fine,” I murmured under my breath.
“You’re lying.” Sylvia’s tone carried that familiar edge calm but knowing. “You’re afraid.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I whispered. “We don’t even know what’s waiting for us. What if he’s everything they say he is?”
“He is,” she said simply. “But that doesn’t mean you should fear him.”
I frowned slightly. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to stand here pretending to be brave.”
She chuckled softly in my mind. “We share the same body, remember? Your fear is mine. But so is your strength. You’ve faced worse, Dahlia. You walked away from pain that could’ve broken you. Whatever happens here, you’ll survive it too.”
Her words grounded me in a way nothing else could.
“What if he doesn’t choose us?” I asked quietly.
“Then we walk away with our head high. But if he does…”
“If he does?”
Her voice softened, like a whisper against my heart. “Then destiny begins again.”
I opened my eyes, inhaling deeply. Sylvia was right — fear wouldn’t protect me. Strength would.
A hush fell over the hall suddenly, sweeping through the crowd like a gust of wind. Conversations stilled, the air tightening with tension. The sound of boots echoed against the marble floor, It was heavy, measured, commanding.
He was here.
Every maiden straightened instinctively. My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I turned toward the grand staircase.
The herald’s voice rang out, loud and clear. “His Majesty, the Lycan King, Dagnoth Draculis of the Northern Realms!”
The massive doors swung open. Guards flanked either side as he entered. They were tall, broad-shouldered, draped in dark armor that gleamed under the chandeliers. His presence filled the room instantly, sharp and suffocating. The air itself seemed to bow to him.
I didn’t need to see his face to feel the power radiating from him. It was ancient, primal, laced with something dangerous like standing too close to a fire that could both warm and destroy.
He walked slowly, each step echoing with quiet authority.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some of the maidens gasped softly, others lowered their heads, afraid to meet his gaze. I couldn’t move. My knees felt weak, my heart hammering against my ribs.
Then the herald spoke again, beginning to list the names of the maidens chosen to step forward first. I barely heard them. My pulse drowned out everything else.
Something in the air shifted. I felt his presence before I saw him that unmistakable energy, dark and consuming.
And then, when I finally looked up…
My breath caught in my throat.
“No…” I whispered, taking a shaky step back. My stomach twisted painfully, disbelief flooding through me.
It couldn’t be.
Not him.
Not the man I thought I’d left behind.
The Lycan King’s gaze swept across the room sharp, predatory, ancient and when it landed on me, I froze completely.
Those eyes. Cold, gold-flecked, and burning with something I couldn’t name.
My entire body went still, the world narrowing until it was just the two of us across the crowded hall.
No words. No breath. No escape.
No… it can’t be.
And in that moment, I realized fate hadn’t just brought me to the king.
It had brought me back to the one man I swore I’d never see again.