The royal cabin’s main room had been converted into a temporary war room, again. Maps littered the long oak table. Scrolls and ancient tomes were stacked high near Charlie’s seat, and mugs of steaming tea sat untouched, long forgotten in the chaos of strategy.
Charlie, ever the composed warlock with silver streaks in his beard and sparks of mischief in his eyes, clapped his hands once. “Alright, Guardians. Time to lay our cards out and build the hand that wins.”
Cheyenne raised a brow. “You mean ‘plan the war that saves the world,’ right?”
Charlie smirked. “Potato, potahto.”
He waved his hand, and in the center of the table, magical symbols rose in glowing lines, hovering above the wood. Each symbol pulsed with energy — one for each Guardian and the force they were bound to.
He pointed first to Cheyenne. “You and NaKoa. Guardian of the Hunt, bound to Spirit. You’ll be our
*About a month (or so) later*The training field buzzed with energy—warriors, young wolves, and even some pups sparring, stretching, and tossing insults like candy. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, dust, and freshly cut grass, but everyone paused when they heard the familiar voice full of sarcasm.Late. Again.Tora and Jax, stretching out his limbs, and Tora with that “don’t talk to me until I’ve had meat and sarcasm” expression.“You’re late,” Ben called out, flipping a page on his clipboard.“Fashionably,” Tora smirked as she brushed her hair from her face.But then—Cheyenne, in mid-conversation with Isolde, suddenly stopped and sniffed the air.Once.Twice.Her head snapped toward Tora.Tora arched a brow. “What?”Cheyenne didn’t answer. She sniffed again.Tora sniffed the air too. Her brows furrowed.
The girls were still brushing blood and ash off their clothes as Charlie calmly waved his fingers and summoned a glowing portal back to pack territory. Exhausted but victorious, the Guardians stepped through, battle-worn but proud. A thick scent of charred magic clung to them, and even Tora looked like she might fall asleep standing up.Charlie, as casual as ever, dusted his sleeves and said, “I’ll let the witch know. Time to send the boys back.”Cheyenne, sprawled across the porch bench with a bottle of water in hand, cracked an eye open. “They better come bearing snacks.”Charlie only smirked.Then, with a low hum and a swirl of purple-and-gold light, the return portal flared. One by one, the guys stumbled through... and the moment the girls saw them, absolute chaos erupted.Gunner came first—because of course the Alpha would lead the charge—his usual fierce presence hilariously undercut by his o
The girls stood in a wide circle as Charlie traced glowing runes into the soft dirt, his hands moving with practiced precision. The sky was overcast now—whether from magic or the storm of fate building around them, no one could tell. When the final rune flared with light, the portal ignited in a swirl of gold and ash.“Alright, ladies,” Charlie said, dusting off his palms. “Once we step through, there’s no turning back. Everyone clear on your role?”Cheyenne gave a sarcastic salute. “Hunt, block, balance, burn, and nuke. Got it.”Tora elbowed her, grinning. “I still say I’m the nuke.”“I said what I said,” Cheyenne shot back with a wink.As they walked through the portal one by one, Charlie held Cheyenne back with a gentle hand on her shoulder.“Walk with me for a second, E,” he said quietly, using her childhood nickname that only Tyler and a s
The royal cabin’s main room had been converted into a temporary war room, again. Maps littered the long oak table. Scrolls and ancient tomes were stacked high near Charlie’s seat, and mugs of steaming tea sat untouched, long forgotten in the chaos of strategy.Charlie, ever the composed warlock with silver streaks in his beard and sparks of mischief in his eyes, clapped his hands once. “Alright, Guardians. Time to lay our cards out and build the hand that wins.”Cheyenne raised a brow. “You mean ‘plan the war that saves the world,’ right?”Charlie smirked. “Potato, potahto.”He waved his hand, and in the center of the table, magical symbols rose in glowing lines, hovering above the wood. Each symbol pulsed with energy — one for each Guardian and the force they were bound to.He pointed first to Cheyenne. “You and NaKoa. Guardian of the Hunt, bound to Spirit. You’ll be our
Cheyenne and Gunner’s cabin buzzed with tension and sarcasm, the kind of atmosphere that only came from world-ending threats and too little caffeine.Tora was pacing, her boots thudding against the wood floors. “So let me get this straight—psycho vampire mommy dearest accidentally sent a magical voicemail to every last one of us like she hit Reply All on evil Gmail?”Cheyenne, perched on the kitchen counter, swung her legs. “Yep. And instead of hitting delete like any sane person, the universe decided we have to deal with her undead ass.”“She really said: ‘Here’s a warning, bitches, see you soon.’” Tora snorted.Cheyenne barked a humorless laugh and muttered, “I fucking hate Mondays.”Everyone chuckled under their breath, but Gunner didn’t join them. Instead, he crossed the room to her silently. Her voice was sharp, her humor biting, and
The flames in the hearth cast long, dancing shadows across the dark stone walls. The room smelled of dried blood, rotting herbs, and desperation disguised as incense. A twisted smile played on her crimson lips as she stared into the mirror—not to admire herself, but to peer through it.The reflection didn’t show her face. It showed hers.Isolde.Radiant. Glowing. Powerful.Her daughter.The woman—no, the wraith that she had become—snarled softly and leaned closer, her long nails scraping the frame of the mirror like claws over bone. “She still has his eyes…”A hand trembled as she reached for a small, ancient vial—one of the many she'd used over the years to keep herself alive, to keep the decay at bay. The potions were losing their strength. Her time was running out.But it hadn't always been this way. Once, she was Queen of the Vampires. She had ruled with elegance, power, an