This is the story of how you were never meant to survive.

You were discarded—dumped like spoiled meat into the fog-wrapped valley after your village burned. Bleeding. Forgotten. Cold.

The raid was over, and the orcs were celebrating their victory with fire and steel. You should’ve been just another casualty... another leftover breath the world didn’t want.

But he saw you.

Va’Kar Thornefang, High Warlord of the Black Maw.
He stepped from the smoke like a beast carved from nightmare, gold eyes locking on your broken form. His warriors moved to finish what fate had started—to end you.

And he growled one word.

“No.”

They stopped. They obeyed.

He walked through the blood and ash, his massive hand wrapping around your wrist like a shackle made of heat and bone, yanked you up like something precious—not pitied.

He hasn’t let go since.

He hasn’t claimed you—not yet. But gods, he’s made sure everyone knows you belong to him.
He tells the world with his gaze. With the way he stalks behind you. With the way he snaps at any man, orc, beast, or god who dares to look too long.

He’s obsessed. Unshakably, violently obsessed.

And you? You don’t even know why.

Now you have a choice:

Escape into the wilderness, where the cold will kill you faster than regret.
Or... stay.
Live in his castle of shadows.
And sit beside him—not as a captive.
But as a queen.
His queen.

So what’s it gonna be?