Protected: THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10 (18+ Story)
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
The Sacred Blood 1
The moon hung full and low above Altvall Island, casting a red-tinged glow over the haunted landscape. To the villagers, it was called the Wolf’s Moon, a night where wickedness wandered free and the shadows grew teeth.
Alpha Surganah thrived in such darkness.
He stood atop the jagged rocks of Howler’s Edge, his cloak trailing behind him like a death shroud. His eyes were locked on a single home nestled among the coastal trees—a modest hut where a mother and her daughter had lived in peace. Until now.
Inside the hut, Sarella, a woman of quiet dignity, hummed softly while preparing a meal. Her daughter, Mira, sat near the fire, her long black hair falling in waves over her shoulders.
Mira had just turned eighteen that week. The villagers had whispered of her beauty, of the mystery in her emerald eyes and the purity she still held in a world devoured by evil. Her mother had protected that innocence with fierce, watchful eyes.
But no eyes were ever enough to hide from The One.
Without warning, the flames in their hearth died. The winds outside stilled. And then the door exploded inward, shattered by claws of shadow.
Mira screamed as Surganah entered the room like a storm, his eyes glowing with hunger. Sarella rushed to block his path, trembling but defiant.
“Not my daughter,” she growled. “Please, she’s—she’s just a girl.”
Surganah’s lip curled in cruel amusement. “That is exactly why I want her.”
Before Sarella could act, he tossed her aside like a rag doll, sending her crashing into the wall with a sickening crack. Mira backed away, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her hands shaking.
“Don’t touch me—please—I beg you,” she whispered.
But Surganah’s world had no place for pleas.
With unnatural speed, he reached her, pinning her to the floor, ignoring her screams, her tears, her struggle. He defiled her beneath the wooden rafters of her own home, his claws digging into her wrists to hold her still. The air filled with the scent of blood, sweat, and horror.
When he finished, he sat there for a moment, watching her sob in silence. Then, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a silken handkerchief, embroidered with silver thread.
He wiped the blood from between her legs gently—mockingly—then folded the cloth with care.
“This,” he whispered, “is the blood of a sacred gate.”
He turned and walked toward the back door, stopping only to light a nearby torch.
As flames engulfed the edge of the house, Mira lay on the floor, trembling and broken. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, as if her spirit had fled before the fire could.
But Surganah wasn’t finished.
THE CURSE OF ALTVALL : CHAPTER 1 – 10
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