PART 2: The Wolf of the Forgotten Throne
The entire arena fell into stunned silence.
Not fear.
Recognition.
The sacred wolf remained motionless before the orphan boy, its massive body towering over him while dust drifted through the burning sunlight.
The emperor slowly rose from his marble throne.
“No…” he whispered.
Below, the boy’s trembling hand rested gently against the wolf’s scarred face.
The creature closed its glowing eyes for one brief moment.
Calm.
Protective.
Like it had finally found something it had been searching for.
Whispers spread wildly through the colosseum.
“That beast bows only to royal blood.”
“It guarded the old dynasty.”
“The wolf remembers him…”
The emperor’s expression darkened instantly.
“Archers!” he roared.
Hundreds of soldiers along the arena walls raised crossbows toward the child below.
But the sacred wolf reacted immediately.
ROOOAAARRR!
The deafening growl shook the entire colosseum as the beast stepped in front of the orphan boy, golden eyes blazing with fury.
Several horses panicked instantly.
Even armored guards stumbled backward in terror.
The boy looked up at the wolf through tears.
“You came back…”
Flashbacks flickered through his memory.
Cold nights beneath ruined streets.
A massive shadow watching him from alley rooftops.
Golden eyes appearing through snowstorms whenever danger came near.
The wolf had never abandoned him.
High above the arena, an elderly royal advisor slowly removed his hood in disbelief.
Then he whispered the words that changed everything.
“The prince survived.”
The emperor turned toward him violently.
“Silence!”
But panic had already begun spreading through the nobles.
Years ago, during the massacre that destroyed the royal bloodline, one child vanished without a body ever being found.
The sacred wolf disappeared the same night.
Because it had taken the child.
Protected him.
Raised him in secret beyond the empire’s reach.
Below, the orphan boy slowly pulled aside the torn fabric near his shoulder.
Gasps exploded through the arena.
Burned into his skin—
the royal crest.
The same symbol carved into the ancient throne itself.
The emperor staggered backward.
Fear finally replaced power in his eyes.
Because the crowd was no longer watching an execution.
They were witnessing the return of the heir he betrayed.
The wolf lifted its massive head beside the boy and released a thunderous howl toward the sky.
And across the roaring colosseum—
thousands of voices slowly began chanting the same forbidden word.
“Prince.”
“Prince.”
“Prince.”
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