Masuk
Seren's POV
“Run, Seren, don’t stop!”
Those were the last words I heard before the forest swallowed me whole.
Branches whipped against my arms as I tore through the undergrowth, the sound of snarling wolves closing in behind me. My breath came in ragged gasps. Every heartbeat felt like it might be my last. The voice—my father's Beta—had already faded into the distance. He'd veered off to confront the threat, giving me a few precious seconds to get away. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t.
But I knew the truth.
He wasn't coming with me.
He'd stayed behind to fight—to die—while I ran.
Everything I knew, everything I loved… was burning behind me. Betrayed by someone I once trusted. Someone I thought—
No. Don’t think about him.
The path grew steeper. I could barely hear anything over the pounding of my pulse, but then—the roar of rushing water. The river. I was close.
A vicious growl sounded too near. I pushed harder, legs screaming, lungs on fire. Just a little further. I was almost—
The ground vanished beneath my feet.
I fell.
Air rushed past me, my scream caught in my throat. Just before everything went black, I saw a flash of silver eyes from the cliff above. His eyes. His betrayal.
Then—cold. Crushing. Silence.
I jolted upright in bed, drenched in sweat, gasping as though I'd drowned all over again.
“Just a dream,” I whispered, pressing a trembling hand against my chest. But I knew better. It wasn’t just a dream. That night never left me. It clung to my bones, etched into every part of me.
The red digits on my alarm clock glared 5:32 a.m.
Close enough.
There was no going back to sleep now.
I peeled off the covers, muscles stiff and sore, and moved quietly down the hall. The wooden floor creaked softly under my feet as I opened the door to the bedroom at the end. There he was—curled up under the covers, one arm thrown over his pillow, soft snores filling the room.
Dorian.
My son. My anchor. The only reason I kept moving forward.
I closed the door gently, heart settling.
Back in my room, I pulled on leggings, a hoodie, and tied my blonde hair into a loose ponytail. My running shoes were already by the door, waiting.
The cold morning air bit into my skin as I stepped outside. I locked the door behind me—out of habit, more than fear. I could defend myself. But Dorian? He hadn’t shifted yet.
By the time I’d finished one lap around the neighborhood, I wasn’t alone anymore.
“You started without me again,” Dorian huffed, catching up beside me.
“I needed to clear my head,” I replied, pulling out one earbud. “Early morning helps.”
He didn’t push. He never did.
We fell into an easy rhythm, side by side, our feet hitting the pavement in sync. We didn’t need words. That was the kind of bond we shared. There was something comforting about his presence. Steady. Reassuring.
He was seventeen now. The same age I’d been when my world shattered.
“You sure you’re okay, Mom?” he asked, tossing me a water bottle after we finished our cooldown.
“I’m fine,” I lied smoothly, giving him a crooked smile. “Moms worry. It’s our thing.”
Dorian rolled his eyes. “I’m seventeen. There’s literally nothing to worry about.”
“Except you being late.” I pointed to the kitchen clock, and his eyes went wide.
“Crap!”
He bolted up the stairs, muttering to himself, and I laughed under my breath. Some things never changed.
After a quick shower, I pulled on my work clothes—nothing too fancy. Business casual at best. I liked comfort over class. Besides, I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.
My blonde hair, still damp, curled into loose waves. I dusted on a little concealer, just enough to not look like I’d survived a war (even though some mornings, it felt like I had).
When I returned downstairs, Dorian was already waiting at the door, backpack in hand, bouncing slightly on his toes.
“Let’s go,” he said, handing me my laptop bag without being asked.
“Bossy,” I teased.
He grinned. “Learned from the best.”
We headed out together, and as we slid into the car, I took a moment just to look at him. Broad shoulders, quiet confidence, that same steely gaze I used to see in the mirror when I was his age. He was his father’s son, no doubt. The thought twisted something sharp inside me.
I didn’t hate his father. Not anymore.
But I would never forgive him either.
He didn’t know.
He had no idea he’d abandoned his fated mate.
We were only seventeen. Too young to feel the bond fully. Too stupid to understand its weight.
I hadn’t even known I was carrying Dorian until after the escape. After the bloodshed. After the betrayal.
He had a Luna now. A son. A whole life.
I didn’t exist to him. But Dorian? He was everything to me.
“You’re quiet again,” Dorian said as we pulled up in front of his school.
“Just thinking.”
“You’re always thinking.”
“That’s my job,” I replied.
He gave me a quick smile, then leaned over and kissed my cheek. “See you later, Mom.”
As he jogged away, backpack swinging, I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
The past still haunted me.
But I had him.
And I’d die before I let anyone take him away.
“Let’s see what today throws at us,” I muttered as I pulled away from the curb, unaware that fate had already decided.
And it was coming fast.
Seren’s POV“Some voices do not come back to be heard. They come back to be obeyed.”Little star.The voice slid through the Thread like a blade through silk.Warm.Gentle.Familiar.I froze.My fingers went numb around the shard.The tower lights were gone now, swallowed by darkness so complete I could hear Rowan’s breathing from the doorway and Kairos’s pulse from less than a foot away.And beneath it all—That other heartbeat.Slow.Ancient.Hungry.Kairos’s hand tightened around mine immediately.“Seren.”He said my name once.Sharp.Grounding.I forced myself back into my body.“I heard him,” I whispered.Kairos went still.“Your father.”“Yes.”The darkness around us shifted.Not physically.The Thread.Something was pushing against it.Testing its edges.Rowan lit a torch from the emergency flint near the stairwell. Orange light filled the chamber in broken shadows, dancing across Kairos’s face.He looked dangerous.Controlled.But I felt what the bond told me.He wasn’t calm.
Seren’s POV“Every prison is built around something people are too afraid to kill.”“It’s a prison.”The words settled like ash between us.Kairos stared at me for one sharp heartbeat before the entire tower shook again. A deep, grinding tremor rolled beneath the floorboards, ancient stone groaning under pressure that had not been disturbed in decades.Outside, wolves shouted.Somewhere below, metal screamed.The Vault was opening.Kairos’s grip tightened on my arm. “What’s inside it.”I swallowed.The truth felt dangerous even now.“Not what,” I corrected quietly. “Who.”The Thread pulsed hard.Recognition.Fear.Memory.Kairos went still. “Seren.”“I don’t know everything,” I admitted quickly. “My father never told me the full story. Only fragments. Warnings.”Another tremor split through the tower.Dust rained from the ceiling.“He said the first carriers of the Thread discovered something beneath the mountain,” I continued. “Something that could hear bonds.”Kairos’s expression da
Seren’s POV“Some truths do not arrive like light. Some crawl toward you wearing the face of memory.”“He’s closer than we thought.”The words stayed in the room long after I said them.No one moved.Not Kairos. Not Rowan. Not even me.The shard in my palm had stopped pulsing, but the skin around it still burned. Not enough to wound. Just enough to remind me that some things never truly slept.Kairos’s fingers were still wrapped around my wrist.Firm.Steady.Grounding.But the Thread beneath my skin was anything but.It had been restless since the reformation, but now… now it was alive in a way I had not felt since I was a child chained beneath Ravager stone.That terrified me.Because I remembered what came next.“Kairos,” I said quietly, not taking my eyes off Rowan. “Who else saw it?”Rowan stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him.“Only the western patrol,” he said. “I ordered silence.”Good.Panic spread faster than wolves.But secrets?Secrets spread deeper.Kai
POV: Kairos“Everyone stay back,” I said quietly.But the words felt thinner than I intended—like control stretched too far across something I didn’t understand.Because standing at the edge of the Hollow…Was me.Not a resemblance. Not an echo. Not something Eon had shaped from observation.This was *formed*.Complete.Aware in a way that felt older than the moment it appeared.---The other me smiled.Not wide. Not exaggerated.Just enough.The kind of smile I used when I already knew the answer before asking the question.That realization hit harder than anything else.Because it meant this wasn’t just a reflection.It was a version.And versions come from divergence.---“You shouldn’t exist,” I said again, steadier this time.The other me tilted his head slightly, mirroring the exact angle I knew I used when I was measuring a situation.“And yet,” he replied calmly, “here I am.”His voice matched mine perfectly.Same tone. Same cadence.But there was something beneath it.Somethi
POV: DariusI don’t trust it.There.Simple.Clear.Honest.And judging by the way Kael’s jaw was still set and Lyra hadn’t fully relaxed her stance, I wasn’t the only one.But unlike the others, I wasn’t trying to soften it with hope.Or curiosity.Or whatever fragile belief Aria and Seren were building around this thing.Eon.Even the name felt… too easy.Too accepting.Too fast.---“I don’t trust it,” I said out loud this time.No one reacted immediately.Which meant they already knew.Lyra glanced at me briefly.“Trust isn’t the point.”“It should be,” I replied. “If we’re going to let it exist here.”Kairos exhaled slowly.“We’re past the point of ‘letting’ anything. It already exists.”“Then we control it,” I said.Aria shook her head immediately.“No.”Kael didn’t agree with her.But he didn’t agree with me either.That told me everything.We were in the gray now.And I hate gray.---Eon turned toward me.Of course it did.It always reacted to tension.To conflict.To edges i
POV: Seren“I can still feel it,” I said quietly.Lyra glanced at me. “Eon?”I shook my head slowly. “Not just Eon… everything.”They all looked at me then—really looked.Because they knew I didn’t speak like that unless something deeper was happening.I pressed my palm more firmly against my arm, grounding myself, trying to separate the sensations.“The Hollow isn’t fractured anymore,” I continued. “But it’s not stable the way the old system was either. It’s… open. Like it’s listening.”Kairos’s brows drew together slightly. “Listening to what?”I swallowed.“To us,” I said. “To Eon. To whatever we do next.”Silence followed.Not disbelief.Recognition.Because we had all felt it in different ways—the way the ground responded without force, the way energy no longer demanded structure but adapted to it.We didn’t rebuild a system.We created something that *learned*.---Eon stood at the center, unmoving for a long moment.But it wasn’t still.Not really.Its presence shifted subtly,
Kairos POVThe first crack didn’t look like rebellion.It looked like a poem.A short one. Posted anonymously. It spread slowly — not viral, not boosted — just shared.*“If the road is always smooth,we forget how to steer.”*Simple.Unoptimized.Engagement metrics were mediocre.But the comments w
Seren POV“He won’t attack the circle again.”The certainty settled into my chest like a stone.Kairos looked at me. “Why?”“Because he knows we defend it,” I said. “He’ll move the fight somewhere we can’t anchor.”Silas frowned. “Like where?”The system answered before I could.Peripheral instabil
Kairos POV“What secondary anomaly?”The words barely left my mouth before the grid answered.A pulse.Not from the tower.Not from Seren.From the far edge of the network.A dark bloom spread across the lines of light. Not clean like the man’s structure. Not ordered. Not deliberate.Hungry.Silas
Kairos POV“Then he’s coming here.”The certainty hit my tongue before doubt could touch it.Seren didn’t argue.She felt it too.The forest tightened.Not physically.Anticipation.Silas swallowed. “You mean… he can cross?”“He already did,” Seren said quietly. “We saw the bleed.”Mael hugged her







