A Thousand Years Ago

The Kingdom of Suthiluck nestled on a verdant, prosperous land that shimmered with the wealth of golden fields and gleaming rivers. Ruled by the Suthiluck bloodline, its kings were known for their just and balanced reign—iron fists tempered with velvet hands. The people revered their rulers, for they were cared for as a father would care for his children.

Yet, tragedy struck when King veera, still in his prime, perished on the battlefield, defending his beloved kingdom from a cruel alliance of shifters—war-hardened alphas with a thirst for conquest. The throne passed to his only son, Prachaya Suthiluck, a mere seventeen years old and freshly anointed as king.

Despite his youth, Prachaya carried the weight of his father's crown with solemn duty. When the counsel advised him to remain within the castle walls and lead from the safety of the throne, the young alpha refused. He donned the battle gear that had belonged to his father, the gleam of the armor reflecting the steely resolve in his eyes. He knew his presence on the battlefield would bolster the morale of his soldiers, even if it meant his own death.

Facing the daunting alliance, Prachaya led his small band of soldiers into the fray, knowing full well they were outmatched. The enemy alphas were seasoned, their numbers vast. But the young king fought with every ounce of strength, refusing to yield even as his forces dwindled around him. He knew the cost of defeat—his land razed, his people enslaved, his family line extinguished. The image of his people’s suffering drove him, and he fought with a ferocity that astonished his foes.

But even his bravery had its limits. Ten seasoned alphas surrounded him, their eyes glinting with bloodlust. The battle raged on, Prachaya’s body bearing the marks of countless wounds, yet he stood his ground, slashing and parrying until he was the last of his soldiers standing. The air thickened with the scent of blood and sweat, the ground beneath his feet slick with mud and gore. He could feel his strength waning, his life slipping away.

As a final, fatal blow raked across his throat, Prachaya’s gaze lifted skyward. With his dying breath, he prayed to the ancient deity who ruled the tides and controlled the very cycles of life and death—the dark form of the moon, known as 'Xarithma.'
He begged for his people's salvation, offering up his life, his soul, in exchange for their safety.

Xarithma heard his plea.

A divine energy surged through the fallen alpha, rekindling the life within him. His eyes flared a horrid, unnatural red, his wounds sealing as the power of the moon goddess infused his body. The young king rose, possessed by a force far greater than his mortal form could contain. The tide of battle shifted. Prachaya moved with otherworldly speed and strength, decimating the enemy forces single-handedly. His enemies fell before him like chaff before the scythe, their bodies littering the battlefield as the last breath left their lungs.

His subjects, watching from the safety of the castle, were struck with a mix of awe and terror. Their young king had returned, but he was no longer the boy they knew. He was something else, something both blessed and cursed by the goddess of the moon.

When the battle ended and peace returned to the land, Prachaya paid his respects to Xarithma. The goddess spoke to him, her voice cold and distant. The power she had granted would flow through the Suthiluck bloodline, passed down to every firstborn male alpha. No enemy, no matter how powerful, would be able to defeat them— Suthiluck alphas will remain undefeated — alive if they could master the power, dead if they could not.

The boon came with a price. Lunacy and death.

As Prachaya mated, the bond with his partner strengthened the divine energy within him. It grew, pushing against the boundaries of his soul, threatening to consume him entirely. The power that had saved his people became a curse, driving him toward madness.

Desperate, Prachaya prayed to the goddess once more, begging for a way to control the power. Xarithma offered a test—a cruel challenge that only the strongest could survive. Those who passed lived, but the bond between the pair would forever be a double-edged sword. One misstep, one moment of weakness, and death would claim one of the pair, with the other soon to follow.

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**A Thousand Years Later**

Singto Suthiluck turned eighteen, the day he would discover his fated mate . The palace buzzed with excitement, but within the private chambers, a darker conversation unfolded.

"We have waited too long. He must be told of the royal secret," the chief advisor urged the dowager queen.

In a hushed room, Singto sat before his grand mother and the chief advisor, his heart pounding as he listened to the tale of Prachaya Suthiluck—the young king who had bargained with a goddess to save his people from fates worse than death, only to curse his descendants.

The story, long considered lore, was terrifyingly real. The power that ran through his veins would grow with age. It was better if he could find a mate early, bond to his mate will ground him as one bond will balance the power of other. But it would also feed his divine bond with the goddess; endangering his mate 's life with every second they spend bonded.

Horror gripped Singto as he heard of the test, the madness, and the inevitable death that loomed over every Suthiluck alpha and his bonded mate. His fate, his very existence, was shackled to this ancient curse. The thought of mating, of bringing another into his doomed existence, was unbearable.

"I will not mate," Singto declared, his voice trembling with resolve " The curse will die with me. "

He would break the cycle, no matter the cost.

But the power within him stirred, a dark whisper in his soul reminding him that the curse was not so easily denied.

........