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[ELARA]Ruelle refuses to meet my eyes during dinner. She eats quietly, almost as if the meal is a duty, not a comfort. Her fingers tremble as she grips her fork, and I notice the way she keeps her hands close to her lap, her shoulders slouching, as if trying to make herself smaller beside the Queen Mother. Even when Princess Daphne tries to strike up conversation, Ruelle’s responses are clipped, distant — just a single word falling from her lips like she’s afraid she’ll slip up her plan. I’m not the only one who notices the change in her demeanor, Magnus does too — but I’m most certainly the only one who knows the reason behind it. Magnus must think this has to do with her marriage with Zander. Soon, the conversation at the table shifts from delicacies in Wyvern, to the wedding preparations, and Ruelle pales visibly. It is Daphne who begins the topic. “Why are you marrying off your only niece with such haste, Your Grace?” she asks Eldric with a smile. Only Daphne can dare to questi
[ELARA]The heavy doors to Magnus’ chambers close behind us with a soft thud, echoing through the dimly lit room. The silence between us feels suffocating. Magnus stands near the hearth, his back to me, his shoulders still taut with anger. I know the source of that tension, but I also know that’s not all that’s weighing on him.Prince Rasmus knowing the truth about the hydralith and Alina. Valen following us into the woods. The murder of the council member who trusted him. Morgana’s disappearance. Eldric’s harsh words. Zander’s ploy to force me into poisoning him when he barely made it out alive the last time he was poisoned… only because of Morgana’s help.A sigh escapes my lips as I think of how much easier things would’ve been right now if Morgana was here. Her powers could help solve so much… Alina. Ruelle too, perhaps?Could I burden Magnus now with what Ruelle told me? When he’s already being crushed under the weight of everything else?Perhaps it is best if Ruelle runs away… if
[ELARA]To the few members of my pack who accompanied my family to Caelondor, Alina’s death remains a brutal mystery. The funeral is a small affair held on the coast of the Cursed Gulf where Alina’s body is burned on a wooden pyre. There’s a moment where I realize I’ve attended more funerals than feasts since my arrival in this kingdom, and a cold shiver runs through me. The Goddess is cursing us, the strange thought enters my mind. What wrong have I done though?It dawns on me with mockery that I barely have been granted a chance to act on my own. I have truly become a pawn in a game that began decades ago in this land that’s still so foreign to me. Eldric doesn’t care to show up. Not even for a performance. Queen Seraphina is brought to the pyre, but she doesn’t stay long, her eyes welling up with tears as she likely recalls the funeral of her own son, Kian. The rest gathered speak in whispers, discussing the most probable cause of Alina’s death. From what I hear, the most favored
[ELARA]The council chamber takes me by surprise the moment I first step into it. The very air here feels different — it’s heavy, and it stinks of schemes and twisted betrayals. As I watch the painted ceiling with awe, depicting history spanning centuries, I wonder how much of it is real, and how much is glorified. Eldric sits at the head of the table, his face twisted with fury, his eyes locked onto Ruelle. Around him, the council members murmur amongst themselves, their voices low but pointed. Lady Celia sits on the far end, her gaze fixed on her lap, while Queen Seraphina stares blankly ahead, seeing nothing, but hearing it all. My gaze shifts to the right end of the table, where a massive sand clock sits atop an ornate pedestal — newly installed, by the look of it. The sand inside isn’t the usual pale golden hue but swirls of deep purple that shimmer as they fall in a slow, measured cascade. It’s strange and beautiful, almost hypnotic. I wonder if it’s meant to symbolize time sl
[ELARA]My thoughts keep me awake through the night, but beside me, Magnus sleeps. And he sleeps well. His chest rises and falls with a steady rhythm, his features softened in the quiet peace of slumber. There’s no tension in his brow, no restless stirring. It’s as if a great burden has been lifted off him, and I know exactly why.He’s unburdened — glad of the move he made. His sister is now betrothed to Prince Rasmus of Qaiven, a calculated maneuver that ensures Ruelle’s safety. He believes her future is secure, that she will be protected. For Magnus, it is a victory, another checkmate in his game of strategy. I’ve watched him over the past few nights, restless and brooding, pacing the room in the dead of night, his thoughts as troubled as mine. But not tonight.Tonight, he sleeps like a baby.And yet, I am wide awake, left to question everything about his choice.It was a cruel way to go about it. Ruelle’s reputation is ruined. There’s no taking back the whispers that now circulate t
[ELARA]The light seeps through the cracks in the curtains, and I watch the sun rise higher into the sky. I haven’t slept. Not a blink. The hours have passed in silence, but my mind has been loud — too loud. I’ve spent most of the night wrestling with myself, trying to make sense of this knot of anger, grief, and blame I’ve tangled myself in. I keep circling back to the same thoughts, and it’s all centered around Magnus, as if fighting with him in my head will give me answers.But I know the truth. I’m not really angry with Magnus. He didn’t kill Alina. He didn’t put the dagger in her chest. Still, the fury sits just beneath my skin, restless and aching. I should be grieving for my stepsister. Instead, I’m searching for someone or something to blame.It wasn’t the right decision.Those words keep echoing in my mind. I can’t stop them. I replay everything over and over, hoping for a different outcome. If I’d done something different, would Alina still be alive? If Magnus had refused to
[ELARA]Magnus stays rooted in place, his eyes glued to the floor, his entire posture rigid as though he’s afraid to move. “You need to be present for the ritual,” he says, his voice strained and formal.I cross my arms over my chest, attempting to cover myself, but it’s more out of defiance than modesty as I narrow my eyes at him. “I know,” I answer, my tone sharper than I intend. “I was preparing for it before you barged in.”He lets out a breath, and I hear a sigh escape his lips, but he doesn’t move. His body language betrays his discomfort. “Elara, I didn’t mean—” His voice falters again, softer this time. “Are you angry at me?”The question catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m silent. I could feel the tension building between us, but I didn’t expect him to be so direct. My mind races, searching for an answer that makes sense, but the truth is... I don’t know.“I don’t know,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. It’s the most honest thing I’ve sa
[ELARA]The garden is bathed in the soft, golden light of morning. Each dewdrop clings to the grass like a delicate jewel, reflecting the sunlight in a way that almost makes it seem as if the earth itself is alive, breathing under the warmth of the day. The air is crisp and clean, filled with the gentle fragrance of blooming flowers. On any other day, this would feel like a sanctuary—a peaceful refuge far from the burdens of the castle and the weight of its secrets. But not today. Not with everything that has happened.As I walk towards the gathering, my feet feel heavier with each step, as if some unseen force is pulling me down, keeping me tethered to the ground. I spot Lady Celia, Queen Seraphina, and Ruelle standing near a patch of irises. Not just any irises—the glowing purple ones, rich and vibrant, their petals shimmering in the light like something otherworldly. They remind me of the irises Beatrice once wove into my hair, the same deep, mystical purple that hinted at secrets
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