The Disguised OneAzaria’s POVThe forest was silent in a way that made her skin crawl.Azaria stepped through the mist-shrouded woods, clutching the talisman that glowed softly in her palm. The crystal had once belonged to her father, and if her instincts were right, it could send a pulse of energy he would recognize—see they had no access to mobile phones.“Dad… if you’re out there,” she whispered into the wind, her voice low and filled with agony and desperation, “please let me know the twins are safe. And also be safe.”The trees that surrounded her, listened as if it had been waiting for her.Passing into an opening she fell upon her knees and deposited the talisman. Muttered words in the old tongue, words which Nicholas had heard her in her sleep utter, and the stone glowed with a clearer light. There was a hushed sound of some sort of hum.Her words were barely finished when the wind shifted.A low growl.Azaria stood up fast, her eyes glowing. “Who’s there?”From the shadows e
Broken PactNicholas’s POVThe journey to the Moon Pact council wasn’t one I took lightly. Every step deeper into the Veiled Wastes—the place where ancient laws were written in blood and sealed by spirit—felt like trudging through the edge of death itself. The sky turned colorless here, and the wind spoke in riddles only ghosts could understand. My skin prickled with a kind of chill that no winter could mimic. I didn’t belong in this realm. But I had to be here.For her.Azaria’s agony was still etched into my bones, her screams echoing even now in the hollow of my mind. I had held her as her body writhed in pain, dark energy pouring from her, wild and erratic, after the visions began. The Moon Pact council was my last hope.They met me at dusk, standing in a perfect circle upon an obsidian platform shaped like a crescent. Thirteen elders, robed in celestial silver, faces covered in ancient bone masks carved with runes older than language itself. They were more energetic than flesh,
The ChoiceAzaria’s POVThe pain came in waves—sharp, cold, like claws dragging down my spine.I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Couldn’t even cry. My lungs locked as magic roared inside me, pressing against my bones like they were cages.Then the visions began.Flickers at first—flashes like broken glass—then whole images. Too vivid. Too real.My twin siblings, shackled in glowing iron chains. Their wrists were burned raw where the metal met skin. They were in separate cells, ancient ones laced with runes. Both of them were on their knees. Barely conscious. Their auras pulsed faintly, like the dying embers of a fire.“No—no, no,” I gasped, falling to my knees as the vision twisted into clarity. “Not again…”My mother’s voice coiled around the image like smoke. Cold. Elegant. Vicious.“You chose wrong, daughter. You had one job—return to your bloodline. And still, you stray. Now… you get to choose again.”The vision pulsed, sharpening until I could see their eyes. Elion, too weak
UnleashedNicholas’s POVPain was the first thing I felt.Dull. Deep. Everywhere. It was inside me, it beat in my ribcage, it reached through the colours that decorated my skin, the bruises, the cuts. And it was real- and that meant I was alive.I blinked slowly.The world came back in pieces.A cracked ceiling above me. Dust swirling in broken shafts of red moonlight. The scent of blood, smoke, and magic so thick it clawed at my lungs. And beside me—her.Azaria.She was collapsed on the ground, her dark hair spread across the cracked stone like a veil. Her body barely moved. But she was breathing. Chest rising and falling in short, uneven pulls.I reached for her. “Azaria…”My voice was hoarse. Barely a whisper.She didn’t stir.I struggled to a sitting posture, groaning as flame seemed to ignite every nerve anatomy in my makeup. The circle we were in was broken lines of jagged ruined symbols fissured across ground, pulsing faintly. The stone floor was littered with pieces of debris
Choose Me, Choose DeathAzaria’s POVMy blade flashed, and caught the sickly, pulsing source of the magic ring under me.The edge still smelt of poison, nightshade poison thick and metallic, and stinging my nose. This wasn’t just a ceremonial dagger. It was a weapon forged to end alphas. Cleanly. Permanently.“It’s strong enough to kill him in seconds,” my mother said, like she was telling me something reassuring. “No mess. No screams. Just… release.”Her dark hair in a snake-like coil because made up in a braid, and around me stood her draped in her silver ceremonial robes. There was nothing exciting in her voice, though her eyes were fired with what she wanted done.The chains behind me were rattling. My siblings were kneeling, the wrists chained in damned iron, the edges of their mouths streaked with blood. Gagged. Wide-eyed. Terrified. The red spell-circle in which they lay glowing radiantly throbbed rhythmically to my own heart-beat--the hunger of it increased in volume with every
The Mirror of MercyNicholas’s POVI hadn’t slept in days.Each time I shut my eyes she was there, in a world that contorted itself, bursting in flames, into shadows. I caught a glimpse of her yelling, chaining about chains I could not free her of. Her mouth worked and the lips quavered with the words I could not hear, but her eyes... they shouted louder than anything I had ever heard before.The worst part? I wasn’t watching her—I was her.I dwelt in her skin in all of the dreams. I was thrilled with the sting of manacles cutting my wrists, the zest of a knife grating over human skin. I was unable to sleep, I was in pain, I was in hopelessness and anguish, and I was in agony of the burden of betrayal. I woke up with her voice in my throat, my body drenched in sweat, hands shaking as though it were a leaf blown by a windstorm.Killiam crouched low beside the fire, eyes shining in the orange fire. “You’ve been dreaming too hard again.”“No,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair.