Chapter 23

DANTE

After the incident that night I was a step away from running mad. The attack had come out if no where and that bastard possessed with dark magic almost killed her but for some reason she wanted to save him.

I could see the pure horror in her eyes as the shadows suck the life out of him. Elias had been one of my guards a very long time ago until he disappeared.

The scent of blood lingered in the morning air, metallic and cold, as I stood at the southern outpost overlooking. The wind carried with it the bitter perfume of ash and ruin. Three enemy survivors knelt before me, bound and beaten, their heads low, their bodies trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of what they had seen.

I was boiling with rage and the blood in my hand was obvious from them. Regardless of them being just warriors I was fighting myself not to kill them, I was going to find every information I needed to take whoever dared to attack my pack.

Without thinking, I dragged one of them into the building behind me, the torture room even if he screamed I didn't care. Guards surround the two left outside while I dealt with this one.

I was never a nice person when torturing someone and this was definitely not going to be the first. I tied him to the electric chair and electrocuted him for few seconds before throwing him down into the pool, and he shook from fear.

“I'm not going to repeat myself and of I do, that chair will be the least of your worries, so speak” I commanded, my voice colder than the wind slicing through the trees and into the window of the room

The wiry man with a gash running down the side of his face, refused to lift his eyes. “We didn’t know, I swear it. We didn’t know who he really was.” He swallowed, and I could tell that he terrifies like the person was directly behind me.

“Who?” I asked, crouching in front of him. My claws extended just slightly, enough to remind him of who stood before him.

“Victor Stone.”

The name-dropped like a thunderclap in my mind. My jaw clenched.

“Victor’s dead,” I growled.

“He’s not,” the rogue hissed. “He’s alive, and he’s building something. An army. Wolves who’ve lost their mates. Broken-bond wolves who’ve turned feral. He’s teaching them to harness the pain. To turn grief into power.”

My heart stuttered.

Victor can't possibly be dead. I was killed right before me. That couldn't be possible, and I knew that he was lying. I glared at him, and he tried to swim underwater, but I grabbed the back of his neck so fast and slammed husband against the floor and ripped his head from his body.

My body trembled in rage as the image of my wife trembling in fear crossed my mind. She is a strong woman, but she saw a face she had known, a face she had thought would keep her safe.

The second prisoner, younger, with burns up his arms, lifted his face and he was pushed into the room and immediately began to speak without me saying anything.

“He said the pain was a gift. That it wakes the wolf in ways we never imagined. He is not dead, he said… he said she would lead him to ‘The First Mark.’”

My eyes narrowed. “She?”

He nodded. “The Queen.”

I stood abruptly. My thoughts spiraled into chaos.

Leah.

Victor was after her. That bastard was still alive, my head was turning at the mere thought of that bastard being alive. It's probably a facade, a false figure that claims to be Victor, it couldn't possibly be him.

The First Mark.

I dismissed the guards with a wave of my hand, ordering them to keep the prisoners alive for further questioning. I needed space. I required clarity. I needed to know what the hell “The First Mark” was and what it had to do with Leah.

They were both dragged down to the dungeon for more torture while I moved, I returned to the castle before dawn. The corridors were quiet, the walls haunted by whispers only I could hear. My boots echoed against the stone as I moved toward the south wing, the restricted library.

No one went there.

Not without clearance.

Not unless they were me.

I was still pretty much covered in dried blood and I needed to wash it off before Leah would see me and get unnecessarily worried

I passed the final ward, igniting the ancient runes that shimmered along the archway. The door creaked open slowly, and the scent of dust, time, and secrets welcomed me like an old friend.

The restricted library was more a crypt than anything else. Shelves towered to the ceiling, holding scrolls and tomes bound in leather and something darker. This place was where truths went to rot.

I combed through the shelves for hours, searching for anything that referenced broken-bond wolves, the First Mark, or the curse. I found nothing. Until I reached the northern wall, behind an illusion rune. It flickered faintly, an old spell, nearly dead.

I pressed my hand to it.

The wall shimmered and gave way. I've never seen this before.

Behind it, a single scroll sat in a carved obsidian case. No dust. No age. Like it had been placed there recently.

I broke the seal.

The parchment unfurled in my hands, etched with blood-inked script. My eyes scanned the ancient language, translating slowly.

“When the red moon rises, and blood awakens blood, the First Mark shall reappear. Carried by the daughter of the forgotten flame. Her howl will shatter the veil. Her blood shall unbind the ancient curse, or doom us all.”

My blood ran cold.

Leah.

Daughter of the forgotten flame.

The First Mark wasn’t a place.

It wasn’t a relic.

It was a person.

She was the key.

I read further. There were mentions of a line thought to be extinct, the Ignarii, once priestesses and warriors tied directly to the Moon Goddess. Burned out of existence during the First Lycan War. Except one survived, hidden by betrayal and magic.

My hand trembled as I rolled the scroll back.

Everything suddenly made sense. Leah’s power. Her memory loss. The way her presence shifted fate itself. Victor Stone didn’t want to kill her.

He wanted to use her.

I couldn’t allow that.

I couldn’t lose her.

I sealed the scroll in a protective case and locked it inside the Vault of Truth, a chamber beneath the castle only accessible by royal blood.

Then I summoned emissaries to my war room. I gave them orders in hushed voices, instructions to reach the Moon Priests, demand access to their sealed archives, and report back only to me.

This had to be done in secret. If the council found out… if Victor found out, we were close to uncovering her origin… we’d lose the only advantage we had.

Leah.

Our Queen.

The First Mark.

I looked up at the moon through the war room’s high window, and something ancient stirred in my chest.

She didn’t even know who she truly was yet. She hated that she didn't know this truth, and I am meant to tell get now but should I?

The world was already moving to claim her and I had to protect her at all cost

Even if it meant losing her to the truth

Especially if it meant saving her from herself.

I shut the doors to the library and walked to the room. It was past midnight, and she was already asleep, I immediately washed up before joining her in bed and I held her in my arms like my life depended on it and truly my life did depend on her