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AlaricNo further protest emerges as guards begin their methodical search, examining communications, personal items, even scent markers that might indicate recent contact with unauthorized territories. Through the still-strained bond, I focus completely on Sage's presence – faint but persistent, life force strong despite circumstances."My King," a guard approaches, his expression grave as he presents a scroll discovered among one council member's possessions. "This contains detailed security protocols for royal healing visits. Specifically, eastern village procedures."Lord Kincaid – elderly wolf who opposed integration of healing abilities from the beginning – maintains his dignified posture despite damning evidence. "Standard security briefing," he claims, though pallor beneath silver fur betrays awareness of position's weakness."With delivery route information?" The guard indicates specific notation on scroll. "Arrival times? Guard rotation details?"Silence confirms what evidence
SageConsciousness returns in fragments – disjointed awareness of the cold stone beneath me, distant dripping water, unfamiliar scents that speak of underground isolation. The paralytic compound that rendered me helpless gradually loosens its grip, limbs tingling painfully as sensation returns in increments too small to offer escape.But the most significant change occurs within – our bond, previously muffled to mere whispers, strengthens with each passing moment. Through it, I feel Alaric's focused rage, his determined pursuit, his absolute certainty of finding what's his.North, I project, gathering every detail my returning senses detect. Underground. Mountain stone. Running water nearby.My eyes finally cooperate enough to assess my surroundings– a chamber carved from a natural cave but modified with modern equipment. Medical monitors track my vital signs, specialized restraints secure my limbs despite the paralytic's lingering effects, and most disturbing, an entire section appear
SageTime moves in fits and starts as I struggle to focus through the drugs in my system. Still, I try to keep my eyes trained on the man threatening everything I hold dear. With each passing minute, my connection with Alaric grows stronger. I just have to hope Cassius doesn’t suspect, but thankfully his attention is occupied elsewhere. "I'm only being practical." Cassius studies the monitors tracking my vital signs. "Why limit ourselves to a single manifestation of combined bloodlines? Once you’ve delivered this child successfully, further pregnancies could prove just as promising."It’s verbal confirmation that my assumption was correct. Cassius intends not just to take our child, but to keep me as breeding stock for future offspring, experiments for his own gain."Alaric will kill you for this," I promise, certainty flowing through the bond I can now feel more clearly connecting me to my mate whose rage burns cold and calculating. "He won't stop until—""Your mate represents a temp
AlaricI race through the mountainous terrain in full Lycan form, needing a speed unachievable as a human, instinct and rage driving me beyond even Phantom’s normal limitations. My elite warriors struggle to keep pace, fear of disappointing their king nipping at their heels. I follow the weakening thread of our bond like a physical tether pulling me toward my mate and unborn child. Cassius may think he’s found a way to win, muting our bond. But he underestimates the strength of the ties that bind us together. As long a my mark adorns her neck, he’ll never hide her from me. Underground. Mountain stone. Running water nearby.Sage's projected thoughts reach me in fragments, her consciousness fighting through whatever compound Cassius used to suppress our connection. Suddenly the bond strengthens, just for a moment, as the drug temporarily releases its grip, her thoughts coming through stronger than before.North. Medical equipment. Long-term captivity planned.My answering rage flows th
Alaric"Ah, Your Majesty." He straightens with a clinical composure utterly at odds with the sacrilege just committed. "Your timing is impeccable for observation, though approximately forty-three seconds too late for prevention."My roar of pure rage shakes the very foundations, my partial shift completing into full Lycan form as Phantom completely overwhelms my human restraint. I launch toward him with killing intent, claws extended to tear out the throat of the wolf who dared violate my mate."I wouldn't." His voice remains calm despite death approaching at Lycan speed. "The new bond is extremely fragile. Any harm to me transfers directly to her through our currently stabilizing connection."I halt mid-lunge, primal rage warring with instinctive protection of my mate whose safety suddenly depends on our enemy's continued existence. My mind struggles to process the impossible situation I find myself in. Sage’s loss even more profound in the knowledge of how completely and truly she no
SageThe world returns in fragments of sensation – the sterile scent of medical equipment, the soft hum of monitors tracking my vital signs, and most disturbingly, the unfamiliar weight of a bond that should not exist. My hand instinctively rises to my neck, fingers brushing against the tender skin where Alaric's mark should be, finding instead the raw evidence of Cassius's violation."The disorientation is perfectly normal," Cassius's irritating voice, like nails on a chalkboard leaving goosebumps on my skin, reaches me through the fog of consciousness. "The transitional phase between bonds creates temporary neurological disruption."My eyes snap open, the brightness of the medical chamber sending sharp pain through my skull. The first thing I see isn't Cassius, but Alaric – my mate, my king – standing rigidly beside my bed, his expression a careful mask that fails to hide the rage simmering beneath the surface. And despite the small voice in my head insisting something about his pres
Sage"Her condition is destabilizing," one of the doctors reports. "But her heart rate is still elevated, and her blood pressure is concerning for the pregnancy."The mention of our child focuses my thoughts instantly, turning from self-loathing to concern for our pup. Whatever happens to me, I must protect the innocent life growing within. No matter the cost. Through the emptiness where our bond should flow, I try to project this determination to Alaric, hoping some trace of our connection might still exist beneath Cassius's violation. I need him to know I’ll do anything to bring his heir safely into the world for him. Even if it means playing Cassius’s game. For the briefest moment, something responds – not clear communication, not distinct emotion, but the faintest resonance like a distant echo. Alaric's eyes widen slightly, the only indication that he might have felt the same impossible connection."The child." My hand moves protectively to my rounded abdomen. "What effect does
SagePain tears me from sleep like claws ripping through flesh. My back arches off the bed as fire spreads from Cassius's mark, radiating through my chest in waves of agony that feel like my ribs are being pried apart one by one. A scream tears from my throat before I can even register that I'm awake."Sage!" Alaric is at my side instantly, his hands hovering over me, uncertain where to touch when every inch of my skin seems to burn.The monitors surrounding the bed erupt in a cacophony of alarms – heart rate spiking, blood pressure plummeting, fetal distress indicators flashing urgent warnings. Medical staff rush into the room, their voices distant through the haze of pain consuming me."What's happening?" Alaric demands, his voice carrying the edge of panic I've never heard from my warrior king. "Do something!""Her system is rejecting the bond," one doctor explains, frantically adjusting medications. "But this is far more severe than a typical adaptation response."Another wave of a
SeleneHours later, freshly bathed and impeccably dressed in a gown designed specifically for the final night of the Choosing Gala, I enter Magistra Vega's chambers for our ritual preparation. She sits at a table covered with ceremonial implements—silver bowls, ancient texts, herbs and crystals arranged in precise patterns."Princess," she acknowledges without warmth. "We have adjusted our approach given the night's failure."Baron Krell stands by the window, his military posture never relaxing even in private. "The ritual will proceed as planned," he informs me. "With one significant modification."Vega indicates a delicate crystal vial containing iridescent blue liquid. "Dream flower essence," she explains. "Extremely potent, especially to one with dual nature like the prince. Combined with certain catalysts, it will trigger the separation we require.""Without a Silverspiral healer?" I question, eyeing the vial warily."We have other resources," Vega says dismissively. "Less ideal,
SeleneIndecision wars within me as I consider what I must do tonight. And I know I must, Magistra Vega’s keen attention to my every move reminds me of that. Still, my mind keeps wandering back to earlier today, to my encounter with the Silverspiral healer, and the way I found my commitment to our plan shaken to its core. As I follow our small party through the forest, the healer enclave's location burns in my memory from hours spent studying maps, reports from scouts, and ancient texts describing where surviving healers might hide after the purges. But knowing its approximate location and actually finding it are different matters—these people have evaded discovery for generations.A scout returns silently, dropping to one knee before me. "Princess, we've located the settlement. Half a mile north, nestled against the cliff face. They appear to be in the process of evacuation.""They know we're coming," Krell growls."Then we move now," Vega decides, gesturing the group forward. "Reme
LyraElara and I sit in silence as we both continue to ponder what the Northern delegation has planned. But soon, the quiet feels stifling and I feel the need to speak aloud the thoughts assaulting me. The amulet I wear seems to warm against my skin as the threat crystallizes."Elder Thalia said they need three elements for the binding ritual—the full moon's power, a healer of the Silverspiral bloodline, and the divided heir." I whisper, the small sound loud in the utter silence. "The divided heir," Elara repeats softly. "That's what I keep seeing in my visions—Alexander literally torn in two, one half glowing with healing light, one consumed by Alpha power.""Is such a thing even possible?" I ask, though I already fear the answer."There are ancient rituals that can separate essence from form," she confirms, echoing what I told Alexander earlier. "My mother found references to them in texts preserved from before the purges. They were forbidden practices, considered too dangerous and
LyraThe hidden chamber feels like both a sanctuary and a prison as hours crawl by with excruciating slowness. My injuries throb despite the rudimentary treatment Alexander and I managed before he left, but the physical pain pales compared to the ache of separation. The mate bond stretches between us, a silver thread that pulses with each passing minute, somehow both comforting and torturous in its reminder of what fate decreed and circumstances deny.I pace the small space, cataloging my surroundings more thoroughly now that I'm alone. The chamber is circular, clearly built within one of the palace's towers. A narrow bed occupies one wall, a small table with two chairs stands in the center, and a fireplace provides both warmth and the means to heat water or cook simple meals. Shelves hold basic supplies—preserved food, medical materials, candles, blankets—suggesting this place was designed for extended hiding if necessary.No windows offer a glimpse of the outside world, only a small
Alexander"They need you specifically for the binding ritual to work." I mutter to myself, but Lyra picks up my train of thought."Which is why Selene led the attack herself." She says grimly. "She spotted me trying to escape. I used everything I know about the forest to lose her, but she pursued me for miles." She indicates her injuries. "I didn't escape unscathed.""How did you find your way here?" Dominic asks, suspicion edging his voice, making me growl under my breath. "The palace is heavily guarded, especially during the Gala."Lyra's gaze returns to me. "I followed the bond. It led me here—like a silver thread pulling me toward safety. I knew it was dangerous to come to the palace, but somehow I also knew it was the only place I'd be safe from her."The simple truth of her words reverberates through our connection. She came to me—to her true mate—instinctively seeking protection even at great risk to herself."We need to get you somewhere safer than this garden," I say, assessin
AlexanderThe remainder of the Gala passes in a blur of forced smiles and diplomatic niceties. I perform my duties mechanically—dancing with potential matches, engaging in political small talk, maintaining the façade of the dutiful heir considering his options. But my thoughts remain fixed on the conversation with Selene in the garden, her veiled threats echoing in my mind."The final night of the Gala approaches. Traditionally, the heir makes his intentions clear by then. I would hate for... misunderstandings to arise."What did she know about Lyra? How much had she discovered about our meeting in the forest? The questions circle endlessly as I navigate the crowded ballroom, accepting congratulations on my upcoming coronation from nobles who have no idea of the turmoil beneath my carefully composed exterior."You're distracted tonight," Dominic murmurs as he appears at my side, offering a much-needed glass of water. "More than usual.""Something's wrong," I reply under my breath. "Sel
Lyra "Or another of your bloodline, though few remain." Thalia’s words bring me back to the present as she reaches for my hands, clasping them in her own. "The Northern delegation seeks a Silverspiral healer for their ritual. Whatever they plan, it involves the prophecy, the Lycan heir, and the disruption of the true mate bond you now share.""But why? What could they hope to gain?""Power," she says simply. "Control over the balanced power that the prophecy promises. If they can bind the heir to their bloodline instead of his true mate, they might redirect the fulfillment of the prophecy to serve their purposes."My mind races, connecting fragments of overheard conversations with this new information. "I overheard them speaking of a binding ceremony, of needing a healer of pure bloodline for a ritual to work properly.""A perversion of ancient magic," Thalia growls. "They would use your blood—your essence—to create a false bond between the prince and their princess, overriding the tr
LyraI follow the hidden paths back to our secondary encampment, my mind still reeling from the encounter with Alexander. Every step increases the distance between us, and with it comes a physical ache I've only heard described in tales of true mates separated. The silver bond stretches taut between us, a constant reminder of what fate has decreed and duty denies.The dream flowers in my basket seem to pulse with their own soft luminescence in the fading light, their scent more potent than usual—or perhaps my senses are simply heightened by the awakening of the mate bond. Either way, their presence is a tangible reminder of my responsibilities to my people, responsibilities that now seem at odds with the pull of my heart.Our emergency settlement is well-concealed, nestled against a cliff face with natural caves providing shelter. Unlike our permanent enclave, this location is sparse, functional, designed for temporary safety rather than comfort. As I approach, I sense rather than see
AlexanderMy mother’s watchful eyes pierce right through me as she waits for me to speak. I consider lying, brushing off my questions as nothing more than curiosity. But I’ve never lied to her before, and I don’t intend to start now. "I found my true mate today," I say finally, the words both liberating and damning. "A healer named Lyra, from one of the hidden communities."Elara gasps softly while my mother's expression transforms from shock to a complex mixture of joy and concern. "The mate bond—you're certain?""As certain as you and Father were," I confirm. "The silver connection, instantaneous and undeniable.""Oh, Alex," Elara breathes, understanding immediately the impossible position I'm in. "The Choosing Gala, Princess Selene, the prophecy...""All pointing me in one direction," I finish grimly, "while fate pulls me in another."My mother rises, coming to me, her hands cool against my face as she studies me with those violet eyes so like my own. "A true mate is a gift beyond