CHAPTER 10: When the Horn Blows

I scramble backward until my boots strike the cold stone hearth. My hand flies to the side table, fingers locking around a heavy brass candleholder. I lift it, knuckles white, staring at the dark gap beneath the mattress.

"Who is there?" I whisper. "Come out. Slowly."

Bloody fingers twitch against the floorboards, leaving streaks of crimson. A ragged, wet gasp echoes from the shadows, followed by a violent cough. Mira slides into the dim light. Her silk presentation gown is ribbons, and her left shoulder is soaked in dark, spreading blood.

"Aylin," she wheezes, lips stained red. "Please... don't call the guards."

I drop the candleholder and sprint to her. On my knees, I pull her dead weight from beneath the frame. She groans, eyes rolling back.

"How did you get here?" I ask, my hands flying to her torn shoulder. The wound is jagged, three parallel lines ripped by something massive. "The Matron locked the doors. The bolts are thrown."

"Servant tunnels," she whispers, leaning against the bed. "They run behind the stone walls. I crawled through the wood-chute. The lower blocks are a bloodbath, Aylin."

I rip a wide strip of linen from my bedsheets, fold it into a pad, and press it against her shoulder. She screams. "Hold this. Press hard."

"They lied to you," Mira pants, her small, dirty fingers locking over mine. "The rogues didn't just ambush from outside. They were already inside, let in through the lower cellar doors."

A cold chill washes down my spine. "Why? If they want to overthrow the kingdom, why attack the residential wings?"

"Because they aren't trying to capture the fortress," Mira says, tears cutting lines through the soot on her cheeks. "They are systematically slaughtering every female in the lower tiers."

I freeze. "Targeting us? Why?"

"They know about the transition," she whispers, terror wide in her eyes. "The Prince is in the deep vault, turning into a Lycan. He needs a human Anchor to pull his mind back before the beast takes over."

The Matron’s words "you become the prey" echo in my head.

"They want to strip him of his options," I realize, my stomach turning to ice. "They aren't just trying to kill Lucien. They are killing every potential match so his mind burns itself out."

"Yes," Mira nods weakly. "If there is no Anchor to bind his mind when the final shift happens, the power will turn his brain to ash. Lupercal will lose its King, and the pack hierarchy will collapse into chaos."

I pace the room, boots clicking on the floor. The thuds of the battle below feel different now. It isn't just a fight; it’s an erasure.

"We are just a meat grinder to them," I mutter, looking at my hands. "When that scroll arrived at our human clans, we knew we weren't coming here for royalty. But I never imagined it was this calculated."

"To them, we are disposable medicine," Mira says bitterly, coughing up blood. "If fifty human girls die to protect the sanity of one royal wolf, they consider it a bargain. They look down on us, yet their entire empire depends on our blood."

"It's a beautiful system," I say, voice cold. "They treat us like slaves, but they are terrified of what happens if we aren't here to save them."

"What are we going to do?" Mira asks, glancing at the locked doors. "If they find the tunnels to the eastern wing..."

"We stay put," I say, grabbing a wet cloth to wipe the grime from her forehead. "The royal guards are the strongest in the world. They just have to hold until tomorrow. If the Prince stabilizes, he can end this."

"If he survives," she murmurs.

A terrifying vibration rattles the room. Not an explosion. A deep, guttural groan from the bowels of the mountain, a sound so heavy it shatters the glass oil lamps on my vanity. The floorboards shake, nearly knocking me over. It is the awakening of an ancient, feral power.

The grand iron horn of Lupercal blows...a single, piercing note of agony signaling what feels like the final phase.

My wrists thrum. Beneath my skin, a silver light flares to life, a current that tugs my body hard toward the northern tower.

"Aylin, your arms," Mira shrieks, cowering. "What is that?"

"The connection," I whisper, the invisible rope pulling at my chest with suffocating desperation. "He's changing. The Lycan is awakening."

A heavy, wet thud hits my bedroom door. The handle turns.