Ritual at midnight!

“She’s everything we hoped for,” Kieran said, his voice heavier now, almost unrecognizable. “Her blood is utterly pure—the strongest we’ve seen in centuries.”

The Keeper of Flames stepped forward, his fiery aura intensifying. “Then the time for caution has passed. She must face the ritual.”

“The girl suspects nothing,” Kieran assured them, a smirk twisting his features. “She’s too trusting, too naive. But we can’t delay much longer. Every moment she remains here, her power grows. If we’re not careful, she’ll outmatch even us.”

The Herald of Dread stepped closer, his chilling presence making the room feel colder. “Then we waste no time. Prepare the rituals. Either she proves herself worthy… or she becomes nothing more than a memory.”

Kieran’s smirk faded, replaced by a grim determination. “She won’t fail,” he said, though whether it was confidence or hope that fueled his words was unclear. “She can’t.”

The tension in the chamber was palpable, the ominous words hanging in the air as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Before anyone could speak again, the heavy doors of the chamber burst open, and the Sage of Echoes entered hurriedly, his blue tattoos glowing brighter than usual—a sign of urgency.

“My lords,” he said, his voice steady despite the haste with which he moved. “A report has just reached me. The Alpha who first captured the girl—he’s coming. He’ll reach Dreadfall Citadel within hours.”

Kieran turned sharply, his expression hardening. “The Silverhowl Alpha?”

The Sage nodded. “Yes. And he’s not alone. There are whispers of others joining his cause.”

The room buzzed with an undercurrent of tension, but Kieran raised a hand, silencing the murmurs before they began. “If he thinks he can breach the Citadel, then he underestimates what lies within these walls.” His voice was sharp, commanding. “Send word to the Seers. They’re to strengthen the wards and shroud the Citadel in mist so dense no mortal, wolf, or god can penetrate it. Bring forth the Shadowbinders—they’ll ensure there are no paths, visible or hidden, left unguarded.”

The Keeper of Flames stepped forward, his fiery eyes narrowed. “Do we alert the girl?”

Kieran shook his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “No. Let her remain blissfully unaware. If she knew the chaos brewing outside these walls, it might awaken a power in her that we’re not yet ready to contend with. She must remain focused on the ritual.”

The Herald of Dread’s voice broke through the silence, colder than ever. “And if the Alpha reaches her?”

Kieran’s gaze darkened, his smirk fading. “He won’t.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of his words sinking in. Then, with a sharp turn, Kieran moved to the center of the chamber, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Prepare the ritual. It begins at midnight.”

His tone left no room for argument, his declaration echoing through the chamber.

As the Bloodsmiths dispersed to carry out his orders, Kieran remained, staring at the ancient symbols etched into the stone beneath his feet. His confidence masked a flicker of uncertainty buried deep within him.

The Citadel was impenetrable—or so they believed. Yet, in the back of his mind, an unease stirred. The Alpha wasn’t just coming for Gaia. He was coming for war.

And midnight was approaching fast.

★ ★ ★

Gaia stepped into her chambers, closing the heavy oak door behind her. The room was dimly lit by a solitary crystal lamp on the wall, casting a soft, golden glow. Her heart still raced from the conversations of the day, but what lingered most in her mind was Kieran.

His face flashed before her—the sharp curve of his jawline, the almost boyish smile that softened his otherwise intimidating features. How could someone be so mysterious yet seem so genuine? She thought, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

She sat on the edge of her bed, absently brushing her fingers over the intricate embroidery of her dress. "He's so different from the others," she murmured to herself, recalling the way his laughter had seemed to break through the heavy air of the Citadel. Almost human, she thought, the idea oddly comforting.

She climbed onto the bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. The softness of the mattress enveloped her, and her eyelids fluttered shut.

The moment her consciousness drifted, the air around her seemed to thicken, and her room melted into darkness. She felt herself falling—not in fear, but into an endless, weightless void.

Upon her arrival, she found herself no longer within the Citadel. Rather, she remained in a large, vacant stretch. The earth below her resembled a gleaming silver pool, mirroring a warped version of herself. The sky overhead was a haunting hue of red, swirling with hidden power.

Abruptly, the water below her feet quivered, and her reflection communicated, even though its mouth remained still.

“Be cautious of the charming smiles, for darkness prevails where brightness is meant to exist.”

Gaia tried to speak, but no sound escaped her lips.

The scene shifted abruptly. She was now in a massive circular chamber, the walls lined with towering statues that seemed to watch her with glowing eyes. In the center of the room stood Kieran, but he looked different—his boyish smile was gone, replaced by an expression of cold authority.

“Kieran?” she called out, her voice finally returning.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he raised his hand, and the statues around her came to life, their stone bodies cracking and shifting as they turned toward her. Their eyes burned with the same strange powerful energy as the sky she’d seen before.

“Choose wisely,” Kieran said, his voice echoing unnaturally. “For not all alliances are what they seem.”

Gaia felt the ground beneath her tremble, cracks forming in the silver pool that had reappeared at her feet. From the depths, hands reached out—clawing, grasping, pulling her down.

She screamed, but her voice was swallowed by the void. Just as the hands were about to drag her under, a familiar presence surged through her: Valtor’s face appeared in a flash, his voice a whisper in her mind. “Trust your instincts, Gaia. The truth will guide you.”

In an instant, the vision shattered.

Gaia bolted upright in bed, her chest heaving, her body drenched in sweat. The air in her room was still, yet it felt charged with something she couldn’t explain.

Her hands trembled as she tried to calm herself.

“What was that?” she whispered to herself.

But no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the dream had been more than just a figment of her imagination—it was a warning.

Before she could gather her thoughts, a sharp knock on the door pulled her from her reverie.

She opened it to find a servant standing there, eyes downcast. “Lady Gaia, your presence is required in the Chamber of Truth.”

Without waiting for a reply, the servant turned and walked away, leaving Gaia with no choice but to follow.