Lost the War

Marc was pensive when he was in the middle of the intersection. Either has to choose the passage on the right; towards the field, or the hallway on the left; towards the palace hall commonly used for meetings as well as the banquet of major events.

"Come with me!" Genevieve led Marc into the hallway to her right.

The girl flicked her long orange braids loose while flashing one of her eyes coquettishly as Marc matched her pace.

"You teased me, witch?" mock Marc with a wink that was as flirtatious as the one Genevieve showed him.

Genevieve sprayed her eyeballs annoyed. She hated being called a witch by anyone, especially Marc, just because of the color of her hair which looked similar to theirs. She was a summoner and healer. Obviously different, even though their hair color is the same. In the eyes of ordinary people, Genevieve is often considered a witch, because rarely do people know about summoners.

In addition to the very small number, the average summoner chooses to hide especially in such a chaotic state. The barbarians are also hunters and do not hesitate to behead them, because the existence of witches and summoners is considered threatening and contrary to life.

Genevieve put away her annoyance, instead of voicing it. "Are you angry?" She chose to focus on the voices within the prince, the Alpha, which she was hearing so clearly.

"You know why right?" asked Genevieve again.

Marc guided Genevieve to sit on the edge of the field, watching the wolves who were practicing attacking the sorcerers in the middle of the field. Routine activities that can be witnessed in the afternoon every weekend.

"I reject the reason," Marc said after finding the right sentence. "I am not a princess. It is not appropriate to stay in the palace. After all, why isn't it just my parents who forbid me to go down to the battlefield, why do you all do it too?"

Genevieve smiled. Slowly she grabbed Marc's big hand and grasped it while patting it softly. "Only you can count on us, if—"

"If my parents lose the war?" Cut Marc. "My mother is a woman. She was even included in the war, Maven."

Marc turned his face away from Genevieve, then, while taking a deep breath he dared to look at the woman who had been looking at him for a few minutes ago without blinking.

"Do I—" Marc shook his head softly. "Do I look weaker than a girl?"

Genevive blinked her brown eyes slowly, then gave the prince a shake. "You are much stronger than anyone else, Your Highness."

Marc chuckled softly. "I'd rather you call me A fool Alpha, Maven," he said. "You give me goosebumps if you call me that way, like most people."

"Marc?" Genevieve changed the way she spoke and looked at the prince, the alpha who secretly swallowed hard at her soft voice.

Genevieve rarely called the prince by his real name. She is much happier to call the man she considers to be her best friend and her little brother the annoying stupid Alpha. However, if it is already like this, call him the prince; the alpha with his real name suddenly, it was really scary. Genevieve realized the fear Marc was trying to hide behind a pair of blue eyes that looked as cold and deep as the ocean.

"If you lose, you will be cursed. If you live, you will forever be shackled —for the rest of your life. But if—"

Genevieve swallowed her saliva nervously. She turned her face away from Marc. Too afraid to say the thing she hated so much. Talking about death is not her skill. Imagining death was the scariest thing in her life. If she can, she wants to bury everything she knows about everything that happened to Marc. it's just that the man actually subconsciously wants to make her spill the secret that she has been close to, even from King Cedric and Queen Ilaria.

Slowly Marc reached out, grabbing Genevieve's tiny hand. Marc flashed a faint smile when he felt the girl's palm wet in his grasp. For a moment, the werewolves and wizards who were practicing stopped all their activities, taking the time to steal a glance at the place where the prince; Alpha Marc, and Genevieve calmed each other down.

Everyone knows, that Marc and Genevieve have a special affinity. But unfortunately, despite wanting and getting support from several parties, they cannot be together. Genevieve and Marc were born differently.

"Just pray for two possibilities for me, Maven," Marc whispered softly, just as a smile fell on his face. "First, if I die, there will be no curse attached to me or this country. Second, pray for me also that all the warriors in this land will prevail against the barbarians and the terrible hunters."

Genevieve nodded softly. "Blessed every step of the way and all the paths you choose, Alpha Marc," she said half-whispered.

Unfortunately, what the two expected that day was not fulfilled in accordance with what they expected. Genevieve passed away after a few days of fighting alongside King Cedric and Queen Ilaria on the battlefield. While the Alpha; The prince who was used as the last hope of the Kingdom of Xaera to achieve victory was uprooted. Marc fell to his knees before the barbarians and the hunters who pointed the tip of the arrow at him, just as he watched Sebastian sprawled in blood with half the troops he was carrying, and Luis who stared at him nervously as the sword hung a few centimeters on his neck.

The alpha failed to win. He lost hundreds of lives in his loyal army in a few hours, also having to let his confidants pass away before his eyes. However, there is never a word of defeat let alone give up even when in a choking state.

At the moment when Marc bent his body, about to take out the wolf from inside him, a line of lightning emerged from behind the dark clouds that enveloped the night sky. In the next split second grabbed Marc's burly body, and in an instant he disappeared from sight, leaving a speck of dazzling light in the place where he was standing followed by Luis's shrill scream that sounded so heartbreaking.

Marc's soul and body were cooped up with the light. No one knows where he is, but the portrait of defeat that was immortalized by one of the hunters who was on the side of the barbarians became a silent witness believed by the whole residents to this day. They were convinced that the spirit and body of the Alpha; the prince who lost the war, were confined in the painting, in his defeat.