Kane POV The camp buzzed with subdued activity as the Lycans worked under the shadow of the capital. Fires flickered across the outskirts of the city, their golden light dancing against the encroaching darkness. Kane stood at the edge of the camp, the bitter wind tugging at his cloak. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tight as he surveyed the shattered remnants of his people.The devastation was more profound than anything he had imagined. The city that had once thrived with life and the unyielding pride of his kind was now a husk of its former glory. Buildings that had stood for centuries were reduced to rubble. Streets that had echoed with laughter and the rhythmic cadence of warriors training were now silent, except for the cries of survivors and the low murmur of soldiers tending to the wounded.Kane drew a slow breath, his chest tight. Every fiber of his being yearned to let go - to rage, to mourn, to crumble under the weight of his father’s death and the
The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the capital cloaked in the quiet embrace of evening. Smoke from the funeral pyres hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint, bitter tang of ash and charred wood. The city that had once stood proud now lay broken, its streets scarred by destruction, its people burdened by the weight of loss. Yet, as the final rays of twilight faded into night, the survivors gathered, united by their grief and a shared resolve to honor the fallen.The grand square outside the castle had become a solemn assembly. Hundreds of bodies, lovingly gathered from across the city, were laid upon neat rows of funeral pyres. Each one bore a token of the life it represented - simple keepsakes of loved ones, a weapon once wielded, a piece of cloth that carried a lingering scent of home. Among them, set apart on a grand, towering pyre, lay the body of the king.Kane stood at the forefront of the crowd, his silhouette framed by the flickering torches held aloft by the warr
Kane POVA heavy silence hung over the remnants of the capital as the last embers of the funeral pyres smoldered in the distance. The scent of burning wood and flesh still clung to the air, an aching reminder of all that had been lost. The city, once alive with howls of strength and unity, now stood in solemn mourning beneath the weight of the night.Kane stood at the balcony of the almost intact castle, his hands gripping the stone railing so tightly his knuckles turned white. The blood-red moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the land that was now his to rule.His.The word felt foreign, suffocating. He had never wanted the crown, never wanted to ascend through tragedy and bloodshed. His father had been the strength of their people, the unwavering pillar of their kingdom. And now, he was gone.Lyra stood a few steps behind him, her presence a steadying force in the chaos that threatened to consume him. She had barely left his side since they returned to the capital,
Lyra POV The weight of exhaustion finally dragged Lyra into sleep, though it was a restless surrender. The warmth of Kane’s body against hers, his even breathing, was a small anchor in the storm of grief that raged within her. But as soon as sleep took hold, shadows crept into her mind, pulling her into a place far from the ruined castle and the embers of the fallen.The world around her shifted.She stood in an unfamiliar clearing, bathed in the pale glow of an unnatural silver moon. The air was thick with mist, swirling like restless spirits. The trees loomed, their twisted branches stretching toward her like skeletal hands. A distant whisper carried on the wind - a voice she couldn’t place, yet it sent ice crawling through her veins."Lyra..."She turned, heart hammering against her ribs. The voice was neither a whisper nor a shout, but it reverberated through the very fabric of the dream. It was laced with something ancient - something wrong.Then, the mist parted.A figure stood
Drevon POVTwo nights before The capital lay in ruin, its once-proud structures reduced to smoldering wreckage beneath the weight of destruction. Ash drifted through the air like blackened snowflakes, settling over broken streets and shattered homes. The scent of death and burning wood clung to the night, thick and inescapable. Fires still flickered in the distance, their glow casting jagged shadows over the remnants of a fallen kingdom.Drevon and Aelindra moved like specters through the ruins, their steps silent, their presence a whisper against the devastation they had wrought. They were neither hurried nor concerned - no one dared to stand against them. The city had been conquered, its throne stripped of its king, its people left in mourning.And yet, beneath the ruin, something older pulsed. Something that had waited through the centuries for this very moment.Aelindra’s silver eyes gleamed as she ran her fingers along the cracked stone of a toppled pillar, dragging them slowly
Lyra's POV The first light of dawn broke over the ruined capital, painting the sky in streaks of gold and crimson. The morning air was thick with the remnants of smoke, mingling with the scent of damp earth and drying blood. The echoes of the previous night - the burning funeral pyres, the whispered prayers of the grieving, the solemn vows of loyalty - still clung to the city like a ghostly veil.But today, grief would have to make way for duty.The kingdom had no time to mourn.Lyra stood by the castle’s main balcony, overlooking the broken city below. Even in ruin, it still held its strength - their strength. The Lycans were survivors. And now, they would rebuild.She turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on the two warriors standing a short distance away. They had been shadowing her and Kane since the moment the sun rose. Always close, always watching. She could feel their presence like a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders.Guarding them? Or watching them?Lyra had expect
Kane POV Lyra’s absence left a hollow space beside him, but Kane didn’t have the luxury to dwell on it. Not now.The moment she turned away to gather the witches, the weight of responsibility settled fully on his shoulders. He clenched his jaw, his golden eyes scanning the war-torn capital as the first slivers of daylight touched the broken stone. The fires had long burned out, leaving behind blackened ruins and the stench of death, but the real work was only beginning.A king could not grieve. A king could not falter.Yet the ghost of his father’s presence still lingered in the air, his voice a whisper in the halls of the ruined castle. Would he be proud of the choices Kane was making? Or would he see only the cracks forming beneath the pressure?"You’re thinking too much." The low growl of his Lycan echoed in his mind.Kane exhaled sharply. I don’t have a choice."You do. But you’re too damn stubborn to admit it."The beast was restless, pacing beneath his skin, just as uneasy with
The weight of the journal sat heavy in Kane’s hands, the leather worn and cracked from years of use. His father’s handwriting was etched into the cover in deep, determined strokes."If I do not return, the answers lie within."His golden eyes traced the words, unease curling in his gut. His father had left him a kingdom in ruins, but also this - a collection of thoughts, warnings, and wisdom he had never shared in life."Why did he keep this from me?"Kane exhaled slowly, flipping the journal open.The first pages were filled with the sharp, disciplined script of a man who had ruled with strength and calculation. His father had never wasted words in life, and the same rang true here.One:"To lead is to bear the weight of all who follow. A crown is not given - it is taken, shaped in war and loss. If you are reading this, Kane, you have inherited more than my throne. You have inherited my burdens."Kane clenched his jaw. His burdens.His fingers tightened on the journal, but he forced
Lyra's POV The war room buzzed with quiet murmurs and cautious glances. The circular table at the heart of the chamber, carved from obsidian and etched with the runes of past rulers, hadn’t seen this level of tension in weeks. The High Council was assembling - lords, advisors, and surviving generals of the fractured realm. Every seat was filled.Kane stood at the head of the table, his posture straight, his golden eyes sharp. Beside him, Lyra exuded icy composure, though a low flicker of energy coiled beneath her skin - Thalia was restless, watching.Only one seat remained empty, deliberately left open.The one meant for a god… or a monster."Where is he?" Lord Rhogan asked, one brow arched in suspicion. "This entity you brought into our castle. The being who answered your summons...""He will be here," Lyra interrupted coolly, her voice slicing through the chatter. "And he’s not just our concern anymore. He heard the Harbinger’s call. That makes him everyone’s problem."A wave of di
The morning air was still. But Nyxar was not.He stood on the highest tower of the castle, unmoving, save for the subtle twitch of his fingers against the stone. The dawn had begun its slow creep across the sky, spilling soft hues of rose and gold over the jagged peaks below. Cold wind sliced around him, howling like some ancient beast - but he didn’t flinch.He breathed it in. Or at least, he mimicked the motion. It had been a long time since he’d drawn air into lungs.Longer still since he’d needed to. But now… something in him wanted to.He turned his gaze toward the east, toward the distant forest where the ruins of his last prison lay buried beneath centuries of silence and death. It had taken the Queen's blood and the witches howl to wake him. To break the veil that kept his soul adrift in shadow.And now, he watched the world through new eyes.Human eyes.That thought curled in his mind like smoke.Nyxar flexed his hand and watched his fingers stretch and move. Not claws. Not
The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the embers in the fireplace. Shadows flickered across the stone walls, wrapping around them like silent witnesses.Kane moved with purpose, his golden eyes dark with something primal. His grip on Lyra’s waist tightened as he pulled her against him, their bodies flush, heat radiating between them.The kiss was not gentle. It was fierce, consuming - lips and tongues clashing as if they were fighting for control, yet neither willing to surrender.His hands roamed, rough and possessive, claiming every inch of her he touched. Lyra arched into him, a soft gasp escaping as his teeth scraped against the delicate skin of her throat, sending a shiver of pleasure through her."Mine," Kane growled against her neck, his voice raw with emotion, with need.Lyra's fingers tangled in his hair, gripping hard enough to make him groan. "Yours," she whispered, breathless. But the fire in her eyes challenged him - daring him to prove it.Kane’s jaw tensed. His
Kane's POV The chamber doors shut with a muted thud, sealing them in silence. The lingering tension from their encounter with Nyxar clung to the air like a ghost that refused to fade. The room was warm from the crackling hearth, but the cold weight of uncertainty pressed against Kane’s chest.Lyra moved first, stripping off her heavy cloak and placing it over the chair by the fireplace. Kane remained near the door, his fingers flexing at his sides. His wolf was restless, pacing beneath his skin.She knew. She always knew.“You don’t trust him,” Lyra said, pulling the pins from her hair. The strands tumbled over her shoulders in a dark cascade, her reflection sharp in the polished mirror. Her voice was steady, but he didn’t miss the slight tension in her shoulders.Kane unfastened the high collar of his jacket, stepping toward her. “Should I?”Lyra met his gaze in the mirror, her eyes unreadable. “He knelt.”“So did the most dangerous creatures before they struck,” Kane countered, his
Kane POV The air was still heavy with the weight of unspoken things. The witches had not yet dared to move. Even Lyra was tense, though she did not show it on her face.Nyxar’s smile lingered as if he had already anticipated Kane’s next words.“Where do you plan to go now?” Kane asked, his voice calm, unreadable.Nyxar tilted his head slightly. “I was expecting an invitation.”Kane let the silence stretch between them.The witches shifted, uneasy. They knew the power standing before them. Bringing Nyxar into their court was not just a risk - it was a gamble against an unknown force.Lyra was the first to speak.“You want to stay in the capital?” she asked, her voice smooth but edged with curiosity.Nyxar turned to her, his shifting gaze settling into an almost liquid silver. “I wish to stay near you.”Kane did not move, but something in his presence changed. A shift. Subtle. Dangerous. The kind of stillness that came before a storm.Nyxar noticed. He smiled, like he had just uncovere
Kane POV Shadows clung to the figure of Nyxar were moving, shifting, as though it were not entirely solid. It was massive, towering over them, its very presence warping reality itself. The air felt thicker, denser, as if the world itself was struggling to contain this being.And then, in a motion that defied logic, it changed.The obsidian flesh melted, peeling away like smoke.A tall figure emerged, broad-shouldered and powerfully built. He was clad in nothing but shifting darkness, an ethereal presence that blurred between solid and incorporeal. His features sharpened into something striking - unnervingly perfect, sculpted as if by the gods themselves.Yet his eyes never settled.One moment, they gleamed silver, then gold, then abyssal black. With each shift, something different stirred behind them - curiosity, amusement, calculation.Kane recognized the pattern. It was watching. Learning. Measuring him.The weight of its gaze was something Kane had only felt once before - the way
The beacon flickered.The sky, once split by golden light, twisted into something unnatural - something wrong. The stars above dimmed, their brilliance swallowed by an unseen force. And then, the rift widened.A clawed hand, black as obsidian and veined with molten gold, pushed through the crack between worlds. Another followed, grasping at the edges of the breach, pulling it open wider.The ground trembled. Trees bent as if bowing to the force that had answered the call. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the valley, drawn toward the rift as though the entity were consuming the very light around it.And then, it stepped through.The being was massive - humanoid in shape, but utterly inhuman in presence. Its body was draped in a cloak of shifting darkness, tendrils of something half-formed slithering at its edges. Its face was obscured beneath a hood of swirling shadows, but two burning eyes - slitted, ancient, knowing - pierced the veil.It exhaled, and the wind died.A rumbling vo
Lyra POV The golden beacon still burned in the sky, splitting the heavens like a blade of light. The ritual had been completed, the call had been sent, but no one yet knew what would answer - or if anything would at all.Lyra felt the weight of that uncertainty pressing against her ribs as she stepped into the council chamber. The heavy oak doors shut behind her with a resounding thud, sealing her and Kane inside with the most powerful voices of the kingdom.The room was already tense. The long wooden table, lined with advisors, generals, and high-ranking officials, was split down the middle - not just physically, but ideologically.On one side sat those loyal to Lyra and Kane, the ones who had stood with them through war and bloodshed, those who understood that sacrifice was the only path forward.On the other side were the skeptics, the conservatives, the ones who had once ruled before Kane took the throne. These were the men and women who had never fully accepted Lyra’s reign, wh
A second wave of magic rose from the witches, this one more delicate but no less powerful. Lyra watched as High Priestess Seraphina lifted her hands, fingers moving in intricate patterns. Ancient symbols carved themselves into the air, glowing with golden fire, their very presence vibrating in Lyra’s bones.Around them, the capital pulsed in response. The wind howled - not just a natural gust, but something alive, carrying the remnants of the Harbinger’s influence as it was ripped from the city, screaming. Shadows convulsed in the alleys, twisting unnaturally before dissolving into nothingness. The scent of burned ozone and old magic lingered in the air.“These are the Shadow Wards,” Seraphina declared, her voice ringing with power. “They will ensure that no trace of the Harbinger’s corruption can take root within these walls.”Lyra exhaled sharply, rubbing her arms as a deep, unnatural chill lifted from the air. It was like the city itself had sighed in relief.But Seraphina was alre