Chapter 11: The Weaver of Lies

The sight of her should have brought me to my knees in tears. For nineteen years, I had cherished the memory of my mother as a saint—a woman of light who had been stolen from me by a cruel world. But as I stood in the heart of Aethelgard, the woman before me didn't radiate warmth. She radiated the same terrifying, molecular hunger as the Shadow-Men.

"Mother?" I repeated, my voice cracking. "How... how are you here? They told me you died in the Great Shift."

The woman smiled, but it was a cold, mechanical movement of her lips. She stepped away from the floating rift of the Abyss Throne, her feet making no sound on the liquid starlight.

"I did die, Elora," she said, her voice echoing with a thousand overlapping whispers. "The woman who raised you, the one who gave you that petty silver locket, she perished. But the White Wolf is not a creature of flesh. It is a title. I didn't leave you because I was taken; I left you because I had to prepare the seat for your arrival."

"Preparation?" Thane growled, stepping forward, his shadow-wolf fur bristling. "You left a child to be a slave in a pack of wolves that hated her. You let her be stripped of everything."

The 'Mother' turned her violet gaze on Thane. "And look at what that stripping produced. A girl who can siphoned the void. A Queen who doesn't ask for power, but commands it. Had I stayed, Elora would have been a soft, spoiled princess of a dying line. Now... she is a weapon capable of closing the door I opened."

"Closing the door?" I asked, my hand clutching the violet-veined arm that was now throbbing in sync with the rift.

"The Abyss is not a kingdom, Elora," she explained, gesturing to the swirling darkness of the throne. "It is a balance. For eons, the world of the living has taken from the void to fuel its magic, its shifting, its life. Now, the void is calling in the debt. It wants the reality back. The only way to stop it is to provide a permanent anchor—a soul strong enough to sit on that throne and hold the rift shut from the inside."

"From the inside," Kaelen whispered, his face pale. "You mean a sacrifice. You want her to step into the Abyss and stay there forever."

"A small price for the survival of the world," she replied. "And who better than the 'nothing' girl? The one who has no ties to the old world, the one who was forgotten by everyone but her Mates."

She reached out a hand toward me. "Come, Elora. Step into the rift. Use the power I gave you. Save your kingdom by leaving it."

I looked at the throne. I could feel the pull. It wasn't a physical pull; it was a psychological one. The throne was promising me an end to the struggle. No more fighting, no more betrayal, no more weight of the crown. Just a silent, eternal peace in the dark.

"Don't listen to her," Jace hissed, his daggers glowing with a frantic, silver energy. "She’s not your mother. She’s just the biggest Weaver of them all."

I looked at my Mates. Thane’s hand was trembling where it held his blade. Kaelen was frantically searching his mind for a counter-spell he knew didn't exist. Jace was ready to throw his life away just to buy me a second of time.

Then, I looked at the violet veins in my arm. They weren't just a corruption; they were a bridge.

"You're right about one thing," I said, looking back at the entity that wore my mother's face. "The White Wolf is a title. But you forgot what the White Wolf actually represents. It’s not just the lock. It’s the guardian."

I didn't walk toward the throne. I walked toward her.

"You want me to sit on that throne and suffer in silence so the rest of the world can keep stealing from the dark? No. I’m not the 'nothing' girl anymore. I am the Queen of the Outcasts. And my people don't hide in the shadows—they command them."

I grabbed her hand. The moment our skin touched, the hall exploded in a surge of silver and violet light.

"You want an anchor?" I screamed, the power of my three Mates flowing through our bond and into my heart. "Then I’ll give you one. But I’m not staying inside the rift. I’m bringing the rift under my control!"

I unleashed the Full Deprivation, but I didn't target the Abyss. I targeted the entity. I began to strip the 'Mother' of her stolen form, siphoning the violet light out of her and into the floor beneath us.

"Elora, stop!" she shrieked, her form flickering and distorting. "You'll collapse the city!"

"Then let it fall!"

The Spire began to groan. The glass walls cracked, and the liquid starlight on the floor began to drain away. I felt the weight of the Abyss pushing against me, a billion tons of cold, empty space trying to swallow my soul.

But I wasn't alone. I felt Thane’s hand on my waist, Kaelen’s hand on my shoulder, and Jace’s spirit wrapping around mine. We were a four-pointed star, and we were burning brighter than the dark could handle.

With a final, shattering roar of light, the entity vanished. The woman who looked like my mother dissolved into a cloud of harmless silver dust.

The Abyss Throne didn't disappear, but it changed. The rift narrowed until it was just a small, pulsing gem of violet light floating above the pedestal. The hunger was gone. The vacuum had been sealed.

I collapsed into Thane’s arms, the violet veins on my arm finally fading into a faint, silvery scar.

"Is it over?" Jace asked, looking at the quiet, darkened hall.

"The debt is paid,"