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[ELARA] Pain shoots up my arm and reaches my skull the moment Alec’s fangs pierce the flesh there. It’s excruciating and I’m thrown back by the impact, knocked off my feet as a reaction to it. I bite on my teeth so I don’t scream. I don’t want to alert the guards. They could hurt him. They could kill him when they see the bite mark on my arm. Even though his arms sear as they try to reach me through the silver bars, he doesn’t stop. Alec wants me dead; I can see the murderous look in his eyes. Just a moment ago, I was hoping there was nothing holding us apart, but now I can’t be more grateful for those silver bars. He tricked me into thinking he was harmless… until I extended my arm inside the cell to touch his cheek. And then he came at me, like he had done inside the tent. Furious like a beast. My arm begins to throb, the flesh starting to turn a shade of reddish-black as blood trickles down to the muddy ground at an alarming rate. Lila’s panic is mingled with mine. But he
[ELARA] According to Morgana, if I stay awake during the extraction procedure, I will likely lose my mind from the pain. So she suggests I be put into a dreamy sleep, induced by the sap of some wildflower. Lila requests me to listen to her this one time, but I refuse the suggestion and let Morgana begin. But the moment she cuts the blade through my arm, I let out a scream so loud, my ears deafen momentarily. I see Magnus shut his eyes, a groan leaving his lips. “Put her to sleep,” he commands her. Despite the fury I feel, I don’t object. The sap is thick—pricking bits of my tongue as I gulp it down. A moment passes before my mouth begins numbing. Morgana comes closer once again, blade in her hand. As the procedure begins, I feel myself slipping into the familiar realm of dreams. It's as though my consciousness is divided, stuck between the reality of Morgana's lair and the vivid dreamscape that unfolds before me. In the dream
[MAGNUS] Tonight is a night for nightmares. Everytime I close my eyes, the faces of all those I’ve lost come to me. Nyra with her dark skin and a smile for which men would give up their kingdoms. My father, his eyes filled with shock and betrayal as the guillotine separates his head from his body. My mother, with my name on her lips, as her golden eyes close and she abandons me forever. During nights such as these, I remember just how utterly alone and miserable I am. How, for a long time, I haven’t known happiness or peace. How I’ve been struggling, and how long I will struggle for until I’ve avenged it all. And after I’ve pitied myself and thought of it all, the one question that rises in my mind and always breaks me. Will it be worth anything? Given I’ve lost everything, and the only thing I hope to win at the end of it all is a kingdom. Something I’ve never desired. And of course, revenge against my uncle, Eldric Blackwell. That’s the only thing that keeps me going. Even
[MAGNUS] As I make my way to the council chamber, my footsteps become heavier. It hasn’t really struck me yet that Kian is gone. That he’s dead. I should be relieved that my contender for the throne is put down. But I feel a sense of loss. After all, he was my kin. But now Eldric has no choice but to announce me as heir. Unless he thinks of doing something absolutely crazy. Could he get rid of Queen Seraphina and marry a younger woman? Seraphina had trouble bearing children; when Kian finally came out of her, he was frail and sick. No one believed he would make it. But he grew up to be a strong alpha werewolf, proving that the blood of the Luna coursed through him. A part of me can’t help but think of the love Eldric feels for his wife. Despite all the cruelty he put me through, he was always kind to her and to his kid—spoiling them with affection. A life that he took away from me by being responsible for the death of my own father and mother. And there returns my anger. Alist
[ELARA]‘I can’t sense his wolf,’ Lila tells me the moment I open my eyes. My chest feels empty and burdened at the same time as I get on my feet—realizing only a moment later that I’m in Magnus’ room. The memories of the previous night come flooding into my mind. “Alec,” I whisper his name as tears roll down my cheeks. He doesn’t remember me. He has lost his memory. “You slept well,” Magnus’ cool voice strikes my ears. I didn’t notice that he was in the same room. He walks to me leisurely from a dark corner of the chamber, his golden eyes appearing dark in the scant light of the morning. He looks more formally dressed than usual; even a dull gray tunic makes him look regal. I notice the wolves embroidered into the sleeves of his tunic with black thread. Lila says again, ‘I can’t sense Alec’s wolf.’“Where are you going?” Magnus asks as I put one step in front of the other and head to the exit of the chamber. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I straighten my dress. I’m starting t
Alec never leaves my mind. His words keep coming back, his horrified face haunting me. While Beatrice helps me get into my mourning clothes, I don’t stop crying. Tears fall silently from my eyes until they're half shut from the swelling. I don’t hold them back, fearing the pain will suffocate me. This is the worst day of my life. I thought nothing would hurt more than losing my mother. But back then, I still had my father with me, friends in my pack. Now, I don’t have anyone. Even Lila has gone silent. She has lost her hope too. Beatrice doesn’t ask me anything. I wonder if she took care of me during the time I was unconscious. I doubt Magnus would've let her in. But then I found Alec in the same room as me. Beatrice trusted me with her tears, so I trust her with mine. She continues to rub my back in a soothing way occasionally. She's young but mature for her age. When I see myself in the mirror, I realize I’m wearing a gown with a pattern similar to the tunic Magnus wore. The g
[ELARA] Contrary to my assumption, Alec is not imprisoned in the dungeons. Neither is he in Morgana’s lair. He’s in a chamber on the highest floor of the palace. A room really, with a proper bed, a wide window, and wardrobes. When Magnus and I get there, he’s standing by the open window with his back to us. His hands are clasped together and he seems to be looking over at the Cursed Gulf. Seeing Alec with nothing holding him tied—seeing him free, sends a strange shiver down my spine. I feel an entirely different kind of fear at this moment. The fear of everything coming to an end. Lila’s tensed voice resonates within me, ‘My mate is lost. I don’t sense him. He’s a stranger.’ Wolfless and with a forgotten memory. That’s the fate written by the Moon Goddess for Alec Tawr of the Lunar Crest pack. Everything he was, everything he had made himself is gone. Just like that. Losing a person in this way—where you can see them, but know that they don't recognise you—is a pain I pr
[MAGNUS]The eerie silence of the Cursed Gulf hangs heavy today, just like it has been for a while now. The storms that once roared through these waters, swallowing ships whole, seem to have taken a hiatus. But it's the calm before the storm, I believe, the kind of chaos that'll break loose once my uncle Eldric sails back into Caelondor.I can't shake the thought that maybe one of those storms will take him down, sparing me the trouble of facing him, blood against blood. It hasn’t even been a full day since we got word of Kian's death, yet I can feel the shift in the air, like everyone's holding their breath, waiting for the dust to settle.They're all eyeing me up, sizing me for the crown they think is mine now that Kian's gone. But I can't bring myself to accept it, not yet at least. My mind keeps drifting to that chamber where Elara's talking with Alec. I want to know what's going on in there, but eavesdropping isn’t right, even if the temptation's there.Still, I'm keeping a close
[ELARA]Something tells me Valen knows I’m here, and that I’m watching him, but doesn’t stop. “What do you think you are doing?” I hiss at him when I finally find my voice again, daring myself to walk closer. He glances at me leisurely, licking his bloodied lips as he lifts his head from her neck. “I was hungry,” he says with a shrug, and casts Tara aside like a doll. She leans against the wall, the euphoric smile on her face still lingering. “You look… displeased.”I hesitate. I did not think I would Tara here. I really believed she was with Magnus. “She’s our guest,” I whisper, my fingers twitching to reach her, to check if she’s okay—but I don’t. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to touch her. Not when she looks like she’s floating in some distant bliss. “You can’t harm her.”Valen cocks his head slightly, amused. “Harm?” He gestures lazily at Tara’s boneless form. “Does she look harmed to you?”I scoff. “You—” I swallow, forcing air into my lungs. “You drank her blood.”He smirks,
[ELARA]I notice, somewhere between the refilled goblets and the swelling melody of the Bard’s latest song, that Magnus is gone. And Alistair with him. Not that I was informed about it. The feast carries on without them. The Bard, ever the showman, soaks in the attention, strumming his lute with a smirk that suggests he’s well aware of the effect he has on the court. Thornhall has something new to play with tonight. The dancers sit sulking in a corner, forgotten. The musicians find themselves disagreeing with the songs. “I will bed this man tonight,” Lady Brook announces, her words thick with drink as she leans forward, nearly spilling from her seat.I arch a brow. “The Bard?”“Who else?” she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. “Look at him. That mouth was made for more than singing.”“That’s ambitious.” I huff a quiet laugh, lifting my goblet to my lips. “Don’t let Edith know.”“If I had a mother like that—” she begins with a lazy grin, then downs the rest of her wine. “What do you think
[ELARA]“Did you enjoy the ballad, Your Highness?” Valen’s teasing voice curls around me, his amusement barely concealed. He rises from his seat with effortless grace, extending his hand as if he knew—knew—I would come to him. “I worked with the man himself to craft it.”Every movement in the hall slows. A royal woman should not do this. A wife should not do this. The weight of a hundred eyes presses upon me, mouths whispering, hands tightening around goblets—a scandal. But let them watch. Let them see what their beloved prince has wrought. Let them murmur about the disgrace of Magnus’ mate, the woman who was meant to stand at his side.I take Valen’s hand. His skin is cooler than Magnus’, his grip lighter, but no less commanding.“Do not speak,” I say, my voice a blade, and he only grins.“Remember when I told you last night that when you command me, you’re even—”I cut him off. “Will you dance with me or not?” My words are steel-wrapped velvet, laced with something desperate and rec
[ELARA]I want to leave. No—storm off. Let every guest see, let them know I do not stand by their beloved Prince, their cold and callous Magnus. Let them whisper about the insult, the blatant disrespect. I would not care. I want them to see. I want him to see.How dare he? How dare he shatter my heart so effortlessly, as if it were made of glass? If this is his response—if this is how he welcomes another into his arms so easily, so publicly—then what has he done in the quiet of the past five months? How many nights has he spent like this, without hesitation, without guilt?I knew Talisa—Morgana… kept him company, but I thought… no more. Not since he learned what we are to each other. Not since he learned I am his mate. But now my heart burns, set upon a spit, roasting in the heat of my own foolishness.I told myself he wouldn’t. That he couldn’t. But I see now—I was wrong. I was so wrong.And I kept Valen away because it was him I thought of. Even when Valen’s hands traced my skin, I
[MAGNUS]Valen parts as if nothing has transpired between them—as if he didn’t just openly challenge me. He moves leisurely, as though this is his court, and not mine. A smirk ghosts his lips as he settles into one of the crowded rows, plucking a goblet of wine from a passing maid’s tray with effortless ease.His gaze doesn’t stray from Elara. He watches her as if she belongs to him. He dares to do this. Right in front of my eyes. In a castle I rule.Alistair steps forward to replace the bent chalice without a word. The wine’s poured again, but I no longer care to drink more. If the barrier in Elara’s chamber wasn’t breached, and Valen did not leave his chambers the whole night, when could he have given her the gift? And what did he give her? Before I can demand an answer from Elara, I’m interrupted by a lord whose name I do not recall. “Your Highness,” the human begins, bowing impressively low despite his age. “This humble servant has brought you an offering.”His voice draws Ela
[MAGNUS]As the sun dips down the horizon, the Small Hall of the castle packs up with guests. Among the crowd are those who reside in the castle, lords and ladies from all corners of Tassel, and some from beyond the borders. And then there are the performers—the usual musicians, and the new dancers. And the bard—invited by Lord Valen. The air is already filled with lively music by the time I make my entry into the hall. I put on my persona—one I’ve perfected to please the masses, a mask that has efficiently erased my image as the crippled, wicked Prince of Caelondor, a name whispered across the continent. I smile, laugh, and greet people. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all get the same wide mouthed grin. They bow and curtsy. Others who are more touchy are removed by Alistair effortlessly. I don’t even sense her at first due to the shield. But she’s there, sitting on a chair behind the banquet table, hands clasped in her lap, looking ethereal in a golden and white gown. I forge
[MAGNUS]To His Highness, the Rightful Heir,Your Highness,I pray this letter reaches you in safe hands, for I write in desperate times. The kingdom you once called home trembles under the weight of the false king’s rule. His greed knows no bounds—lands are seized without cause, coffers are drained by insatiable taxation, and noble blood is spilled for the mere crime of questioning his judgment. Once-loyal houses now stand divided as their heirs are taken as hostages, their warriors forced to fight in unwinnable wars against territories that were never our enemies. Your father’s kingdom is on the brink of ruin. The people whisper of rebellion, but they lack a leader to rally behind. Many among the nobility look not to the throne in the capital, but to the exiled prince, the rightful ruler, the son of a true king. If you would return, you would not stand alone. There are those of us willing to defy the tyrant and restore honor to the crown, even if he refuses to name you heir, we nee
[ELARA]I find myself on the shore of the Cursed Gulf yet again. The sky above me is the colour of flames—golden, orange, streaks of yellow and black, the world tilted on its axis in my perspective. My feet are hidden beneath the sand, but I don’t panic. Yet, I still wonder. Why am I back here again? My dreams haven’t been plagued by the Soulkeeper in months. Not since Valen taught me how to stop acknowledging its presence. I know I didn’t sleep with poison beneath my pillow last night.And I still am here, trapped in this nightmare. This is not real, I tell myself, willingly for this to fade, for me to wake. But it doesn’t happen. I suppose I will have to endure. And so I do. The boiling water of the sea lashes on the shore with each wave until it freezes, a cold mist enveloping me. This time when the Soulkeeper comes on his cog, his face isn’t hidden. No, the hood is drawn back, and staring right into my soul is the one red eye of Valen Blackbane. And despite everything I know a
[ELARA]Valen moves easily, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he is left in little more than a linen shirt, loose at the collar, and dark trousers that sit low on his hips. The candlelight casts long shadows over the ridges of his body, tracing over sharp angles and defined muscle, a reminder of what he is—what he can do—something I only had a glimpse of minutes ago. I watch, trying not to. Trying not to compare. And yet, I cannot stop myself from thinking of another man in another bed.Back in Caelondor, when Magnus cared, our chambers had been connected by a hidden passageway. I would slip through in the dead of night, and he would let me in without a word. He would wait for me to come. It was the place where I felt most safe. I would curl into the warmth of him, listening to his steady breaths. In those moments, I could almost pretend that our marriage was more than duty.I remember the way he would shed his royal armor piece by piece, leaving himself bare in ways he n