Whispers of the Dragon Prince

Elara stood on the balcony of her tower chamber, the wind whipping her red hair about her face, the sheer cliff below reflecting her inner agony. The ancient trees of Wolf's Crest's expansive woodlands swayed like silent sentinels in the ethereal glow of the moonlight. But tonight, the splendour of her native nation brought her little comfort.

A call from the monarch. That is never a good sign.

Each groove on the stone fence, which Elara traced, was a witness to the history of her people, the Ravenwood werewolf clan. A lineage whispered in legends and feared by many, Elara Ravenscroft was the last of her line, the previous Moon Weaver.

Her unique power-which had frequently felt more like a curse-was her capacity to control the tides of magic, heal with a touch, and manipulate lunar energy. She had been the target of unwelcome attention, rumours of witchcraft, and a terrible loneliness that followed her around like a shadow.

A piercing knock reverberated throughout the room, breaking the silence. From the other side of the oak door, a rough voice said, "Elara," "The King awaits."

Elara sighed and looked away from the starry landscape. Dressed more like a warrior than a princess, she smoothed down her plain forest-green tunic and leggings. Finery is not necessary tonight. She had the feeling that tonight would be a different kind of war.

The throne room was a huge hall with tapestries on the stone walls showing scenes from werewolf myths and fights with old enemies. Long, dancing shadows were cast across the features of the gathered court as the torches flickered. King Theron, Elara's father, sat on his throne, his normally cheerful countenance marred by concern. Her brother Liam stood next to him, his forehead pinched in worry.

Like a ripple in quiet water, the whispering began as Elara drew closer to the throne. "The Moon Weaver..." "What does the King want with her?" "Perhaps a rogue wolf needs healing..."

Elara kept her eyes on her father, ignoring the whispers. With the weight of the empire bearing down on his massive shoulders, he appeared older and more worn out.

His voice was sad as he said, "Elara, my daughter," "I have received grave news from our emissaries in Drakenridge."

Drakenridge. Elara felt a chill at the name itself. It served as the capital of the Dragon Shifters, a race as old and strong as the werewolves, whose tense alliance was the only thing keeping the country together.

Theron said, "The Dragon King, Oberon, is dead," in a sorrowful tone. "His son, Kael, now rules in his stead."

Elara's breathing became laboured. Kael. The Prince of the Dragon. She had only ever heard rumours about him, stories of his might, cruelty, and ability to control wind and fire. She felt an odd shiver at the mention of his name, a mixture of apprehension and... something else she couldn't quite put her finger on.

According to Theron, "this news brings both sorrow and... opportunity," as he looked directly into Elara's eyes. "Prince Kael has asked to speak to us. He wants to... strengthen our people's alliance."

A knot tightened in Elara's stomach. bolster the partnership? Even so, what did that mean?

Liam took a step forward, his face serious. "Father, you don't mean..."

With a resigned expression on his face, Theron nodded. "He has requested Elara's hand in marriage."

Whispers were silenced as the words reverberated across the hall. Elara experienced a surge of lightheadedness. Getting married? To the Prince of the Dragon? The concept was ridiculous. Nevertheless, a peculiar excitement swept through her, a glimmer of something like... expectancy combined with a flare of rebellion.

No. She was unable to. She refused.

Elara had sworn she would never be tied to a partner- ot after she was humiliated and damaged by Aric, Liam's best buddy, who rejected her during their first shift. Sh had accepted her freedom, strength, and independence. Even if it meant saving the kingdom, she would not give it up now.

Despite her hands shaking, she responded, "Father," in a steady voice, "I refuse."

Theron's expression grew stern. "This isn't a request, Elara. It is an esse trial. For us to survive, our partnership with the Dragon Shifters is necessary. You are aware of this.

Elara begged, "There must be another way," as her eyes strayed to Liam, who averted his gaze and tightened his teeth.

Theron stated, "There is no other way," in a decisive tone. Elara, you are the Moon Weaver. Your strength and heritage unite our people. Our future will be safe because of this marriage.

Elara felt confined and suffocated. The same thing that set her apart, her power, was now being exploited to bind her to a destiny she had not chosen.

She said, "I need time," in an almost audible voice. "Time to t ink."

Theron's eyes grew a little softer. "Elara, yo have till the following full moon. At that ti e, Prince Kael will arrive.

Elara nodded as her thoughts raced. It was a single lnar cycle. All she had to do was choose whether to give up her independence for the benefit of her realm and commit herself to an unknown prince surrounded by myth and whispered anxieties.

A chilly fear took hold of her heart as she turned to leave the royal room. She couldn t understand that peace wasn't the goal of this union or marriage. It had to o with power. And the Mo n Weaver, Elara Ravenscroft, found herself in the centre of a perilous game.

A person sprang out of the darkness, obstructing Elara's escape from the oppressive royal room atmosphere. Known for her grace, beauty, and merciless ambition, it was Lady Selene Graystone. A chilly smile curved her lips. "So," she said as smooth as silk across steel, "you are the Moon Weaver who will wed my dear Kael. Elara Ravenscroft, I have a warning for you. Avoid him. I own him.