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[ELARA]Dinner is a long affair, extending long past midnight. Platters of food are brought in to replace the empty ones. This is followed by recitation of tales from the battlefield—everyone praises King Eldric after every sentence is spoken. I realize there are commanders of the army among us. I’m not allowed to leave, nor do I get a chance to speak to Magnus as he is occupied in conversations with ministers. Somewhere during the night, Lady Celia requests to retire from the gathering. Ruelle does the same, repeating her mother’s words. I join in too, and thankfully, when King Eldric nods, we’re allowed to go. “You would’ve liked Kian,” Ruelle says sadly as she walks by my side. “He was a good man.”“He’ll be in a better place tomorrow. In the Goddess’ Meadow,” I say, hoping it will comfort her.‘Liar. You don’t even believe in an afterlife,’ Lila mocks me. Ruelle gives me a smile, which is sad too. Her blue eyes are exhausted, but her dark hair is still perfect. “I’ll see you in
[ELARA]The Cursed Gulf is calm today—it’s an usual scene. Every time I’ve gazed into this sea, I’ve seen it covered with thunderclouds at the horizon, no matter what time of the day it is. This serene calmness looks like a sign from the Goddess herself as she takes back the dead prince into her meadow. Kian Blackwell is laid onto a wooden pyre, adorned in the finest silk. Mourners surround it, gathering in hundreds over the sands that border the Cursed Gulf. Soulbinders recite the prayers that are meant to release his soul, making it free to cross over to the ethereal realm and into the Goddess’ meadow. When they’re done, King Eldric approaches the pyre, casting one last longing look at the only son he ever had before he places a crown on his chest and retraces his steps. The Queen Mother Seraphina finally makes an appearance just before the funeral ceremony concludes, flanked by her maids. She’s dressed in the color of mourning—a plain gray gown, her face covered in a netted veil.
[MAGNUS]“Aren’t you done yet, Magnus?” Nyra’s honeyed voice echoes in the blurry room as she shifts her bare body on the cushioned bench, a teasing look twinkling in her brown eyes. All of her dark curls are parted to one side of her body, that extend from her head to the curve of her waist. “Don’t move, love,” I tell her as I focus on bringing her beauty on the canvas in front of me. It’s hard—not only to focus on painting her when she’s naked in front of me, but also to truly bring every detail on the canvas. “You’re beautiful, Nyra,” the words left my mouth without my notice. She chuckles, her figure disintegrating only to fit back up again like pieces of a puzzle. “Kiss me then,” she commands. The corners of my vision blur a little more. “Come to me,” I tell her as I begin to walk towards her. But with every step I take forward, more distance is created between us. “Come to me, Nyra,” I repeat myself impatiently, now running towards her. But she moves further and further away
[MAGNUS]The moment I step into the council room, my attention is drawn to the painted ceiling. A ladder leans against the wall, atop which stand two humans engrossed in painting a blank section. A smirk touches my lips as I suppress a laugh. A victory over Wyvern—a small kingdom, barely a third the size of Caelondor—certainly doesn’t deserve to be immortalized there.Eldric sits in his regal chair at the center of the table, watching the painters with proud eyes. As soon as I take my seat, he regards me with his gruff yet cool voice, “Ah, nephew! How kind of you to finally grace us with your presence. The sand clock… give it to me.”He opens the palm of his bandaged hand. An unhealed wound? A battle wound? Eldric quickly withdraws his hand when he notices me studying it. He brings forward his other hand, and I carefully place the sand clock in it. Clear nervousness flickers across his face before he shakes it away.“Shall we begin?” Eldric asks the ministers seated quietly around the
[ELARA]The crowd in the palace courtyard forms a restless sea of faces, each etched with curiosity and grim anticipation. I stand at a distance beneath a stall roof reserved for the royal family's viewing of executions, should they choose to attend. At my side is Magnus, his shoulders tense, lips sealed in anger. He clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly, struggling to maintain composure.Silent, he stares straight ahead, fixated on the gray stone slab where Morgana will meet her fate today. As the hour approaches, the crowd's murmurs fade into tense silence. The creak of scaffold steps draws my attention, and I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the condemned woman being led forward. My breath catches as I recognize Morgana, once a woman of strong will and sharp intellect, now reduced to a trembling figure in a tattered red gown, her black hair disheveled.Morgana’s lips move frantically, but no words escape. She stumbles, the guard at her side tightening his grip, almost drag
[ELARA]I have no mind for supper or even for plain conversation with anyone, but when Lady Brook shows up outside my chamber, I have no choice but to go with her, my actions wrapped in a facade of politeness. Her consistent efforts are commendable, but they make me uneasy, even though her smiles always seem genuine and heartfelt.Her chamber in the palace is spacious, showcasing little in the way of furniture or luxury, yet it is pleasing to the eyes. Lord Brook is there too, sitting in one corner of the chamber, his head bent over papers as he pretends to focus on them. However, every time I glance at him, I find his eyes on me with a creepy look that makes my skin crawl.The cozy chamber is illuminated by the gentle glow of a few well-placed candles, prepared for a small, intimate supper. A small, round table is draped in a fine linen cloth embroidered with delicate patterns of vines and flowers. At its center, a single silver candelabrum holds three beeswax candles, their warm ligh
[MAGNUS]The air in the palace has been cold and hollow since Morgana's execution. As I walk the corridors, the weight of her absence presses on my shoulders like a cloak of iron. The echoes of her final croaked screams haunt the walls, and every time I close my eyes, I see her severed head being dangled before the crowd. Her eyes, once so full of fire and determination, now lifeless and cold. The memory is a torture, one that I cannot escape.Another death in my name. Another person whose life ended because they supported me. And I could do nothing to protect her. Is this what I am? A weak prince, incapable of protecting my subjects? Why do I even deserve to become king someday?No matter how much I prepare, Eldric is always one step ahead. He works immorally. Nothing holds him back; he'd do anything to keep himself in power. And it is this power that lets him do anything.No one dares question this execution. No one asks why a trial was never held before the sentence was passed. No
[MAGNUS]I’m not going to finish writing this letter tonight. I know it. Every few seconds, I glance up from the scroll into the dark night through the open window—thinking of Ruelle, Morgana, and the last words Lady Celia spoke to me: "If anything happens to my daughter, I will not forgive you."If anything happens to Ruelle, I will never be able to forgive myself. Maybe that will be the last event that will divert my cause. I’ll retire to the Great Woods and find a place in the independent packs, leaving this Goddess-forsaken life of royalty behind. Maybe that is what I should do now before I lose anyone else.The face of my mother flashes across my mind—disappointed. She never taught me to give up.I must avenge the lives of my father, Nyra, and now Morgana. Eldric will suffer a fate worse than death, one he deserves.“What are you doing, Magnus?” Elara’s soft voice reaches me through the stilled darkness of the chamber. She’s leaning on her elbows, looking up from the bed at me, wh
[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
[LILA]Lila races through the dense forest, her paws striking the earth with relentless speed. The world around her is a blur, the scents of moss and bark barely registering as she focuses solely on the chase. Ahead, the blue-eyed wolf’s scent grows fainter, but Lila pushes herself harder, determined to close the distance. Her instincts scream at her to catch up, to protect, to keep the young wolf within her reach.The beat of the wolf’s paws pounds through the earth, faint yet distinct, and Lila’s muscles tense with every stride. She tries reaching out to the wolf through the mind-link, calling her despite not knowing her name, but the distance makes it impossible to connect. Her human’s panic flickers through their shared consciousness, tightening in her mind, urging Lila not to slow, not to give up. But Lila’s resolve is unwavering. She won’t fail.Suddenly, her pace falters. She skids to a stop, frozen mid-stride, as something strange washes over her — a powerful, magnetic pull tha
[MAGNUS]As I add the final strokes to the canvas, Alistair steps forward, his voice cutting through the quiet air of the gallery. “Lady Celia has arrived,” he informs me in his usual calm tone.I pause, setting the brush down with care. I step back, my gaze fixed on the painting in front of me, trying to soak in what I’ve just done. It feels strange — almost foreign — to stand here and look at something I’ve created with my own hands after all these years. A heavy sigh escapes me as I take in the finished piece. It is perfect, almost a replica.I can already picture Elara’s reaction. She will be pleased. She’ll smile — a smile I’ve rarely seen directed toward me, but one I’ve longed for more than I care to admit. And the thought of that smile, of seeing her light up with joy, stirs something inside me that I’ve kept buried for far too long.Happiness.It’s been so long since I’ve dared to pursue it. But now… now it feels like something I’m ready to bet on. Something I’m willing to ri
[ELARA]Ruelle insists on taking the horses instead of a palanquin, much to the distaste of Lady Celia. Despite all of her mother’s efforts to persuade her, Ruelle remains stubbornly set on her wish to ride into the forest, claiming, “I’ve grown up now, and I can make my own choices!”Lady Celia passes her a glare, but it dissolves as soon as Ruelle wraps her in an embrace. “You must let me make decisions now, mother. But that’s not to say my love or respect for you has diminished in any way. I will always love you and hold you in the highest regard.”For a moment, I hold my breath, expecting my mother-in-law to break out into tears. Her lower lip twitches and then she swallows hard, easing into the hug for a brief moment before letting go. “You’ll always be my little girl, Rue,” she manages to speak in a thick voice before clearing her throat and regaining the sharp edge in her tone. “Don’t flatter me now. It’s your night. Do what you wish.” As Ruelle hops onto the horse that the gua