A Winter's Bleeding Truth
The biting wind whipped Princess Lyra’s silken cloak around her, a meager shield against the deepening chill of the winter night.
- 1、A Winter's Bleeding Truth
- 2、The Stable Hand Who Stole a Princess's Heart
- 3、A Cruel Betrothal and a Whisper of Darkness
- 4、The Discovery Beneath the Crimson Snow
- 5、A Memory Etched in Blood
- 6、The Vizier's Web of Deceit
- 7、An Impossible Choice, A Kingdom's Fate
She had slipped past her guards, defying her father's direct orders, her heart a drumbeat of desperate anxiety.
Rumors of the 'Shadow Wolf,' a beast of myth and terror, had consumed the kingdom for weeks, culminating in a brutal royal hunt.
But Lyra felt an inexplicable pull, a magnetic whisper in her soul that led her away from the roaring fires of the hunting party, deeper into the frosted woods.
Then she saw it: a colossal form, majestic even in its agony, sprawled across the pristine snow.
The snow beneath the creature was a sickening canvas of crimson, a stark, violent contrast against the moonlit white.
The Shadow Wolf, legendary and feared, lay dying.
Its golden eyes, intelligent and brimming with an ancient sorrow, met hers.
A tremor of recognition, unsettling and profound, ran through her.
This was no mere beast; this was a soul in torment.
The Stable Hand Who Stole a Princess's Heart
Months ago, Princess Lyra’s life had held a different kind of warmth, one she now desperately longed for.
Peter was not a prince, nor a noble, but a stable hand in her father's royal kennels.
His hands were calloused, his laugh infectious, and his eyes, a vibrant, warm hazel, held a kindness that melted her royal reserve.
They met in secret, under the boughs of ancient oaks, their stolen moments a precious rebellion against the gilded cage of her destiny.
He spoke of freedom, of the wind in his hair, of a world beyond palace walls.
She, stifled by royal etiquette and political maneuvering, found solace and genuine love in his simple presence.
Their bond was a fierce, forbidden flame, a secret whispered only to the stars.
Then, one fateful evening, their clandestine meetings were discovered.
The King, her father, was furious; the Grand Vizier, Lord Malakor, was ominously silent.
Peter vanished the very next day.
The official decree stated he had fled, a coward unworthy of royal attention.
Lyra knew in her heart it was a lie, a carefully constructed deception.
Her love, her Peter, would never abandon her.
His disappearance left an aching void, a wound that festered beneath her composed royal facade.
A Cruel Betrothal and a Whisper of Darkness
In the wake of Peter’s vanishing, the kingdom plunged into a new kind of unrest.
Border skirmishes escalated, and whispers of neighboring kingdoms eyeing their weakened state grew louder.
Lord Malakor, the Grand Vizier, a man whose ambition was as chilling as the northern winds, swiftly orchestrated a solution.
An arranged marriage.
Lyra was to wed Prince Valerius, a known tyrant whose reputation for cruelty preceded him, an alliance born of desperation, not love.
Her life, already shadowed by Peter's loss, now became a living tomb.
She often caught Malakor's eyes watching her, a predatory glint she couldn't quite decipher.
He had always disapproved of her "common" affections, often subtly steering her father's opinions against her.
Lyra suspected he had a hand in Peter's disappearance, but she had no proof, only a growing knot of dread.
The hunt for the Shadow Wolf became a distraction, a spectacle orchestrated by Malakor to rally the populace.
But Lyra found herself drawn to it, an unshakeable sense that the beast held a fragment of her lost hope.
The Discovery Beneath the Crimson Snow
Now, kneeling beside the dying beast, the cold seeping into her bones, Lyra felt a connection she couldn't deny.
The wolf’s labored breathing misted the air, its powerful flank shuddering.
She tore strips from her rich brocade gown, disregarding its value, her hands reaching for the gaping wound on its side.
Blood, warm and sticky, coated her fingers, turning the delicate fabric crimson.
As she pressed the makeshift bandage, her fingers brushed against something hard, metallic, and distinctly out of place beneath the wolf’s matted, blood-soaked fur.
It was cold, smooth, and oddly familiar.
With trembling hands, she pulled it free, the crimson slush giving way.
A tarnished silver pocket watch, ornate and delicately etched with a swirling pattern of thorns and roses, lay in her palm.
Her breath hitched.
She knew this watch.
It was Peter's.
A small, precious gift she had given him on his last birthday, an inscription hidden inside: "My Star, My North."
How could it be here?
Beneath a creature believed to be a beast of myth?
A Memory Etched in Blood
Her fingers, slick with the wolf's blood, fumbled to pry open the locket.
It clicked open with a soft, mournful sigh, revealing a faded photograph nestled within.
The image, though softened by time and faint water damage, was unmistakable.
