I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. The power pacing inside me wouldn’t let me. It kept twitching under my skin like a second pulse—stronger than my heartbeat, louder than my thoughts. By sunrise, I was raw. No dreams, no rest. Just the hum of magic I didn’t understand and the weight of three Alphas who swore they wouldn’t let me drown in it. I wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or a curse. I found Ronan waiting in the eastern wing—alone, leaning against the window with a book in one hand and a scowl in the other. He didn’t look surprised to see me. Didn’t look away from the pages either. “You’re up early,” I said, my voice still rough from disuse. He flipped a page. “You haven’t been sleeping.” It wasn’t a question. “No.” Another page turned. I waited, unsure why I’d even come. Maybe I wanted someone to look me in the eye and tell me I wasn’t losing my mind. Maybe I wanted to see if the quietest Alpha in the room finally had something to say. “Are you going to tell me what that th
I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with all of this. The power, the burning weight of it in my veins, it was all too much. Too raw. Like something I was supposed to carry, but the edges kept catching on everything around me. Every step I took, I felt it pushing against the skin, pushing out the pieces of me I wasn’t ready to lose. I wanted to scream. But the only sound I could make was silence. I isolated myself. The fortress felt like it was closing in on me, the walls pressing down, the eyes of my pack, my Alphas, watching me like I was a flame that might ignite anything near me. And maybe I was. In the dead of night, I walked the halls, the ones where no one went. There was no one there. Just the sound of my own footsteps. The familiar ache in my chest. The mark pulsed beneath my skin, a constant hum that kept me awake. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand how I could feel so much power and yet be so empty. Like I’d crossed into a place where I didn’t know who I w
The moment I touched the door, the ground groaned like it knew something was waking.Not a trap. Not magic in the way the seers would explain. This was older. Primal. Like the stone itself remembered me.I pulled the handle, and the air shifted.Warmth hit me first. Then sound.A voice I didn’t know but had always heard, buried deep in my chest. Whispering truths I didn’t want. Calling me by a name I couldn’t say out loud.Daughter. Flameborn. Weapon.Inside the chamber, there were no relics. No bones. Just walls scorched black and symbols etched in ash. In the center: a circle. Old blood marked the edge, dried so dark it was nearly black. I stepped into it.And the ground moved.
I knew it was from him before I even opened it.The seal wasn’t wax—it was dried blood. Cracked and dark, shaped into the crescent mark I’d seen only once before, carved into a dying wolf’s back. The memory of it came sharp and fast, like a slap to the face.It was left at the base of my door. No scent trail. No magic residue. No signs of entry. Just the letter and the sick pull in my gut that told me this time, it wasn’t a threat.It was a message. A personal one.Kieran saw it first. He was halfway down the hallway when he stopped, his whole body going tense. I crouched down and picked it up."Don’t touch that," he said sharply.I looked up. "Too late."He crossed the distance in a few strides, gaze locked on the seal. “That’s blood.”"I noticed."He glanced at me, then back at the letter like it might bite. "We need the seer. And Caspian. Maybe even a priest.""We need answers," I said. I snapped the seal.The parchment was rough, brittle at the edges. Aged in a way that made me th
I needed to breathe, but everything inside me felt locked up.The moment the Council doors shut behind me, it was like all the air had been sucked from the halls. Every step I took back toward the west wing felt heavier than the last.The vote hadn’t happened yet, but I didn’t need to hear the outcome to know which way it would swing. Half of them feared me. The other half wanted to replace me. Neither side wanted me to win.I should’ve gone to my room. Rested. Pretended I still had control.Instead, I found myself at Ronan’s estate.The estate was a long, brooding structure built into the north edge of the cliffs—stone walls, iron gates, ivy that clung to everything like it had a vendetta. Ronan had once told me it was older than half the Council itself. That his bloodline had built it long before wolves called each other ‘Alpha.’I didn’t come here for history.I came for answers.The guards let me pass without question. Maybe they’d been told to. Maybe they just knew better.Ronan
They didn’t ask if I was ready.They just summoned me.By sunrise, a runner had delivered the sealed notice to my door—no greeting, no warmth, just formality dressed as respect. The Council was calling me in. Again. But this time, there would be no allies standing beside me. No Kael. No Kieran. No one to buffer the tension or translate the veiled threats into something softer.Just me.And them.I dressed in silence, pulling on my cleanest gear. Not ceremonial—nothing that would give them the satisfaction of seeing me dressed up like a puppet. But not battle-worn either. I refused to give them anything to pick apart.My boots were stiff. My hands were steady. My gut wasn’t.I paused at the door. Took a breath. Not deep. Just enough to feel like I still had control over something.Then I walked.The hall leading to the chamber was too quiet. My footsteps echoed off the stone, each one a countdown I didn’t want to finish. A guard opened the door before I could touch it. Not a word spoke