[MAGNUS] This day has dragged on for too long. The thought weighs down on me as I walk behind Cedric to the council chamber. Occasionally, he turns behind to glance at me, and I can’t help but notice the flicker of unease in his eyes. What was he telling Elara? And why does he seem so unsettled? It was just last night that news of Kian’s death and Eldric’s sudden arrival reached me. Yet, in reality, Caelondor has been engulfed in mourning for merely a day. Time feels warped, as I've been thrust into a whirlwind of events. My mind is a tangled web of unanswered questions, each demanding attention. Has Alistair already initiated preparations for Alec’s departure? Why does Elara insist on sending him away? How did Alec lose his memories? Can I truly trust Morgana? What schemes does King Eldric, my uncle, have in motion? And what has triggered Elara’s abrupt change in demeanor? She didn’t need to kiss my cheek. I reach up instinctively to touch my face, momentarily lost in the memory.
[ELARA] "Mother, people are getting suspicious. I overheard a guard tell another that he thinks Magnus is dead," Ruelle voices out meekly to Lady Celia, who’s standing beside her with her hands clasped together. "It’s been three days, and no one has seen him." They’re both dressed in pale gray gowns held together by metallic wolf heads at the shoulders. Ruelle resembles her mother, albeit younger and, if I dare say, more beautiful. Beatrice told me that Celia was stripped of her title as ‘Princess’ when it was found that her husband, Magnus’ father, was guilty of treason against the kingdom of Caelondor. While her husband was sent to the guillotine, Celia was shamed for not stopping him from committing the crimes. Magnus was spared because he was only ten at the time, seemingly innocent and unaware of the scheme. I felt bad when I learned of it, as anyone else would. The horror of Magnus’ past hasn’t left my mind since. The image of him being a young boy and witnessing his father's
[ELARA] Minutes pass but I don’t move from Magnus’ side. I know I’m no help to him here, but I can’t bring myself to leave. He stayed by my side when I suffered for days. Even the thought of leaving him feels like betrayal. Magnus is quiet. Too quiet—as if he’s already dead. According to the royal physician who is sworn to secrecy, all we can do is pray and wait for him to recover. These were his words two days ago. Since then the only thing I’ve noticed is the life draining out of him. There’s no improvement. I note Alistair’s tensed face from a distance. He looks like he’s about to cry but somehow he’s holding back, his jaw clenched hard. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if he wishes to talk. “Alistair,” I begin, but my voice comes out unsure. Regardless, he steps forward at once. “Are you alright?” I question him For a moment, I’m convinced he’s not going to answer me. Even if he does it’ll be something short and submissive, letting me know that he doesn’t want to open
[ELARA]Blood trickles from Magnus’ nostrils and down the sides of his face, staining the blanket beneath him scarlet. No, this can’t be happening. The royal physician had managed to stop his nose bleeding before, but he warned us that if it happened again it’d mean he was beyond saving. That he was close to death. “Magnus,” I whisper his name helplessly as I bring a cloth to his nose. He begins to choke, emitting a guttural noise with his eyes closed. “Hold on, Magnus,” I plead. “I’ll call the royal physician. Just hold on.”The distance between the bed to the exit of the chamber, albeit small, seems to stretch for miles. ‘Magnus can’t die, he just can’t,’ I tell myself repeatedly. I even trip on the length of my gray gown and topple over an urn from a table.Alistair is at the door guarding, but he’s not alone. Morgana is with him, and he’s blocking her way. I ignore her and inform him hurriedly, “Magnus… his nose is bleeding again. We have to call the royal physician at once!”“
[ELARA]A few minutes pass in silence before Alistair walks towards me. “Do you trust her?” he questions me, but there’s an edge to his voice as if he wants to add something more but is holding back.I shake my head but not really in denial. “Morgana confuses me. But she provided the magic we needed to save him. She’s right. He needs her.”There’s a pause where Alistair sighs, thinking deep on something. I gather the ends of my gown and sit myself on the edge of the bed, folding my knees.“Do you think anyone can really barge in and attack us here?” I make myself ask. He shakes his head. “It’ll be too risky if I’m being very honest. A poisoning while indiscreet can still be ambiguous.”“Can you tell me about this garden?” Alistair lowers his head as he explains, “Prince Magnus’ mother was poisoned. Since then he has been very hesitant to readily eat anything. He only eats at banquets or with the queen mother in the grand dining hall. Among crowds, where there’s very little chance of
[ELARA] “Princess Elara, your bath is ready,” Beatrice informs me, bowing. She’s dressed in a dull blue tunic—perhaps that’s the most festive attire she owns. This morning, a raven arrived from King Eldric with a note attached to its feet, which commanded that the palace and the capital residents must flaunt their best garments and welcome him back after his momentous victory against the kingdom of Wyvern. This was taken, as expected, oddly by those at court. We’re merely eight days in the mourning period—which typically lasts for fourteen days here in Caelondor. Wearing gray and observing silence is seen as respect to the dead. But he’s the King. And if that’s his command then that’s what shall be done. I came by the Luna's idol earlier today and it was decorated with bright flowers and wick-lamps. The main hall itself is adorned with garlands, and intricate tapestries—a far cry from its usual plain walls and high torches, and I’m sure I saw a group of dancers preparing in one of
[ELARA] “Magnus!” I call out his name without another thought, catching him mid-turn. Was he trying to run away from me? Avoid me once again and pretend he didn’t see me? I can’t tolerate any more of this. It’s suffocating and beyond annoying. With quick strides, I reach him. Alistair is behind him, of course, like a shadow. “Elara,” he mumbles, his voice coarse. It has been this way since he gained consciousness. His eyes stare intently into mine. His gaze combined with the way he sounds, make me aware of the air touching my arms. “What happened?” “I need to talk to you,” I tell him, my voice faltering as I suddenly realize that this is a bad idea. How do I approach this? ‘Silly, why do you even care?’ Lila taunts me. “I’m occupied right now. The King will arrive shortly. His ship is in view at the coast. I think whatever you have to say can wait,” he responds dismissively. Although he stands firmly, I can see that it's not effortless. Goddess knows what he’s going throug
Lila's paws pound against the earth, her muscles flexing with each powerful stride. The forest drowns her in a symphony of scents and sounds—the rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, the earthy aroma of damp soil. It is a familiar melody, one she has missed dearly during her time confined within the walls of the palace inside the mind of her human counterpart. As she races through the dense foliage, the cool breeze brushes against her fur, sending shivers of exhilaration down her spine. The sensation of freedom surges through her veins, lifting her spirits higher with every bound. She is alive, truly alive, in a way that only the wild can offer.Emerging from the shadows of the forest, Lila reaches the cliff's edge, overlooking the vastness of the Cursed Gulf. The sight takes her breath away—the rolling waves crashing against jagged rocks, the salty tang of the sea mingling with the crisp air.In the distance, a ship appears on the horizon, its sails billowing in the wind as it app
Days turn into weeks. The journey to Tassel stretches on endlessly, a procession of dust, silence, and heavy skies. We take stops at manors, and the great halls of Lord and Ladies who host us, entertain us, and offer us their finest wines and elaborate meals.Magnus surprises me. I had not thought he would agree to be anyone’s guest, least of all on this journey. Yet, each time we halt at one of these estates, he assumes his role as though he was born for it.It is at the third manor, the estate of Lord Carin, that I finally see why.The great hall is awash in golden light from the hearth, the warm air mingling with the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine. Magnus stands at the head of the table, his presence demanding as he speaks. His voice carries across the room.“You underestimate the resilience of the southern provinces, my lord,” Magnus remarks with a curt nod. “A drought may cripple their harvests, but their ingenuity will see them through. Did you not hear of the irrigation
We’ve been exiled.The words play over and over in my mind. Exiled. Not banished, not ousted, but a carefully chosen word designed to cloak humiliation with civility. Perhaps the phrase 'we’ve been kicked out of the palace' would have been more honest. Magnus would never utter it aloud, though. Pride runs through him like marrow through bone.Everything happens in a rush after the announcement — a frantic blur of bustling servants, hastily packed trunks, and clipped whispers that dart through the corridors like rats. I barely recall how I was swept into the palanquin, a gilded cage draped in deep velvet curtains and stuffed with feathered pillows meant to soften the blow of our fall from grace. It fails. No amount of luxury can soothe the sting of what this means — what this is.Lady Celia refuses to appear. She locks herself in her chambers and does not even bid us farewell. Whether her silence is born of anger over Ruelle’s escape or of grief over our collective disgrace, I cannot s
[ELARA]When I blink my eyes open, a cold, sharp pain greets me like an unwelcome guest that has overstayed its visit. It’s the kind of ache that feels as though it’s always been there, settling deep in the marrow of my bones. A phantom sensation of suffering, both distant and immediate.This is rebirth, is the first coherent thought in my fractured mind. I was dead. But now, I’m not.The second thought strikes harder, cutting through the haze: Magnus is my mate.I try to rise, but the room spins violently, and a hiss escapes my lips. The pain is cold and numbing, seeping under my skin like ice. It’s there but not there, agonizing yet strangely soothing. My body feels foreign, as if I’m inhabiting a vessel I don’t entirely recognize.A soft hand presses down on my forehead, gentle but firm. “Oh, you’re awake.”The voice is familiar, and yet it feels like hearing it from underwater. Daphne?Caelondor. I’m in Caelondor.Confusion rolls in waves, mixing with the relentless dizziness. How
[MAGNUS]Zander’s fear is obvious as I step closer. Even here, in Morgana’s lair with its strange, flickering candlelight despite the absence of wind, his wide eyes and stiff shoulders give him away. He knows I’m not a friend. We’ve never pretended otherwise. Betrayal, rivalry, disdain — we’ve shared all these openly, and now, as he sits on the bench looking healthier than he has in days, I can see the question in his eyes. Why would I save him? Why a friendly smile?I don’t think he even considers that him being brought here has anything to do with Elara. To him, she is nothing. Just someone he can discard and torment to his pleasure. Someone he can threaten to poison another just so her father could be safe. “Alpha Zander,” I call out again, forcing my voice to sound calm, friendly. “Or should I call you former Alpha?”His shoulders twitch, a reflex he can’t hide. Good. I need him on edge, need him angry and distracted. That’s when people are easiest to control.He doesn’t reply, hi
Content Warning: Gore. [MAGNUS]The little time that Zander has spent locked up in the Torturer’s Cave has done enough damage. When I find his cell, he’s frail — appearing half his weight, still screaming although his voice has become croaked. The runes glow a fiery red etched along the silver bars of the cell — doing their job of tormenting the prisoner within. I’ve heard it makes you relive your worst memories on repeat. With a hope that every time the outcomes will be different — a loved one might be saved, a crime might not be committed, but it all ends the same. With utmost misery. Zander doesn’t seem to hear our footsteps as we approach. Doesn’t even hear the conversation I have with the guard who refuses to unlock the cell. Doesn’t notice how the guard suddenly complies when Morgana meets his eyes, taken by a trance. And how the other guard tries to stop him, until he too is enchanted. The Alpha of Mistral Hollow. Let me correct myself: the former Alpha of Mistral Hollow is b
[MAGNUS]“Stay with me.”It’s a plea more than anything. I can’t bear the thought of losing Elara. The thought of her dying because I began to care for her. There’s no way to draw out the silver faster. It can take days… weeks.Silver. The most potent weapon to kill our kind. An silver tipped arrow lodged into her chest, just inches away from her heart. She could’ve been dead. But she isn’t. There has to be some purpose to this, right? Another cruel fate woven by the Moon Goddess?The healers know nothing. Rather, they know little of this. Their abilities are limited to what is approved by nature. What is permitted to be done within the confines of Caelondor. But Morgana? She can dive into alchemy, drawn upon dark magic — magic that saved Elara from becoming a rogue. She can take my blood again. Goddess, she can take my life if it means saving Elara’s.I’m about to go looking for Morgana when she appears at the edge of the bed. Not as herself, but as Talisa. But the glimmer of red in
[MAGNUS]“To the Royal Annoyance (my beloved brother), Magnus,Summer in Qaiven is brutal. I don’t know why I thought coming here was a good idea… Hold on, I’m only jesting! I have almost made up my mind to never leave. This place is wonderful just as you described from your varied visits for the Grand Conclave. And no, I’m not talking of the observatories of alchemists, or the quiet art galleries you love! The port of Vynov is certainly the grandest — the one in Caelondor pales shamefully in comparison. The streets are filled with people from all over the continent! Can you believe, I’ve already made friends with a High Lady who runs a brothel? Oh, Magnus. Unsaddle your horse. Of course, that is a jest, too. Your goons are keeping me perfectly safe from any danger that could be lurking. Frankly, the idea of never coming back to Caelondor is tempting. But so is the urge to bring you a barrel of blueberries only to see you scowl. Can you please start liking them? They’re the loveliest
[MAGNUS]Every single pair of eyes in the council room is fixed on me. This isn’t the first time I’ve been a subject of their collective gazes, but this is clearly the first time I’ve cowered under it. I keep my head bowed low, projecting the emotion I feel — heartbreak for Ruelle’s betrayal and disappointment in my inability to find her. But this won’t support my claim — the claim I’ve put forward in front of the council. “They were attacked in the woods, and Ruelle was taken away.”I should be angry, aggravated, thrashing anything and everything in my way. I should be making statements of how I’ll make those who took her suffer. Anything to make my words more believable. Anything for Eldric to believe that Ruelle didn’t run away to escape her marriage. But I fail. I fail to grasp control of my own actions, of my movements. The mate bond pulls strongly at me, and I grit my teeth, holding back the pain Elara is suffering that I now experience too. The questions that trickle into m
[MAGNUS]Everything happens in a haze. One moment I’m standing too confused on all fours wondering what odd twist of fate has occurred and how I find myself with a mate once again — the mate being Elara, of all people. And the next, all the air has been emptied from my lungs as I watch the arrow hiss through the air and lodge into her wolf form’s neck. As she collapses to the ground, her body shifts back into her human form. When I reach her, I’m human once again — not even realizing when the command reverberated through my mind. Blood trickles down her skin, pooling at her collarbone, as I hold her up in my lap. Creed howls at the pain his mate is experiencing but I’m too shocked, too numb to do anything. “Elara,” her name finally escapes my lips in a choked whisper. “Elara, please…”My hand hovers over the wound, but I’m not even sure what to do. She’s dying, I think as I press down gently, desperate to stop the flow, but it only seeps through my fingers.I try to breathe, but th