Serena. The sun dips low, casting a golden hue over the camp, but my world feels anything but warm. I stand in the training ring, a wooden sword clutched in my grip, facing Luther. The ground beneath me is firm, yet I feel like I’m standing on jelly. “Focus,” Luther commands. “You’re slower than I remember, you good?.” I scowl. “I’m fine.” He lunges. I dodge, barely, my counterstrike lacks force. He sidesteps, easily knocking my sword aside, then grabs my wrist, twisting my arm behind my back in a move too quick to counter. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “If I was the enemy, you’d be dead.” I wrench free, glaring at him. “You’re distracted,” he says, eyes narrowing. “Should I know why?.” My heart pounds. Does he know? I keep my expression nonchalant. “I told you, I’m fine.” Luther studies me for a long moment, then sighs and steps back. “You don’t have to tell me. But if you’re not at your best when the real fight comes, it won’t just be you who suff
Serena.I find him near the supply tent, his arms crossed, and his face as if it is carved from stone. I open my mouth, carefully.“Luther.”His gaze slices through me, emotionless. Then he turns his back.That’s it.My fingers curl into fists. That’s all the answer I need.I feel the sting behind my eyes, but I say nothing. I turn away and walk back to the small storage tent where Sylvaine waits, twiddling with a piece of bread she has no intention of eating.“We leave tonight,” I whisper.She arches her brow. “About time.”That night, I decide to announce our leave, so I head to the war tent. The tent is crowded when I enter with commanders, scouts, Gareth... and Luther, standing in the center like a storm waiting to break. I brace myself for a cold goodbye.But I never get the chance.“Seize her,” he commands.Hands grab me from behind before I can move. Ropes bind my wrists. I don’t fight. I’m too stunned.“What the hell Luther”, I yell, yanking against the men holding me tightly
Tristan. I felt it before I could name it. A low, coiling growl stirred in my chest, and my wolf jerked awake, wild, feral, and furious. Someone is touching her. The images weren’t clear, but the bond twisted sharply inside me, a painful, suffocating tug in my chest. I stumbled back, clutching the edge of the table in my room as the world spun. My wolf howled in rage, clawing to the surface. “Ours. Mate. She’s ours!” The first time he’d said it, I hadn’t believed him. Not when she looked so broken, so enslaved. Not when she had knelt in the mud like a thing without a soul. And certainly not when she flinched from my touch. But the first time she looked at me. I knew and my wolf never stopped calling her mate after that. And now... now she was with him. I didn’t remember bursting into the house. Didn’t remember the splintered door or the way Thorne was on top her, his scent all over her. Didn’t remember the way she looked at me, startled, ashamed, like I’d caught her d
As soon as I sighted the army behind them, I let out a loud growl and shifted immediately. My wolf charged at them, swiftly dodging Serena and Sylvaine and pouncing on one of the soldiers. The air burned. It was the kind of heat that crawled under your skin and seared you from the inside out. My wolf was snarling, itching for blood. Steel rang out behind me as Nytheran warriors surged forward, answering my silent command. But I didn’t care. I only saw him.My target is the bastard who is standing in the middle of his army with a stupid smirk on his face.As soon as I get to him, he shifts into his wolf, turning around and blending in with his army. “If it isn't the all powerful Tristan Sinclair, Alpha Heir to the Nythera Pack”, he says in a mocking sing-song voice.It just made me want to rip out his throat, but as I got closer, he moved faster than I could have predicted and grabbed Serena who stood just ahead, dirt-smudged, bruised, but alive. Her eyes widened when she saw me.
Serena.“Head Back”, Tristan commands and his army turn around immediately as if controlled by an unseen force.We walk in silence, anticipating the worst as we head back to the manor. Surprisingly, the Nytheran manor stands quiet. Too quiet.No smoke. No fire. No signs of an attack. Just an unsettling calm that settles over the grounds like fog. My heart drops as we rush in, Tristan at my side, the warriors fanning out with blades drawnready for a war that doesn’t exist.Luther escaped, and now I'm sure sending the scout And the scout? No trace of him. He lied.This whole thing was a ploy. A distraction. And we fell for it.Queen Aliyah summons me not long after. The guards escort me through marble corridors that echo with each of my footsteps. When I enter the royal chamber, Sylvaine is already there, arm bandaged, pale but alive.Queen Aliyah descends from her throne slowly, her expression stoic and composed.“You showed courage,” she says. “Protecting Sylvaine. Facing the enemy h
Serena.It’s been days since I saw them, Isabel and Luther. Days since I stood outside her door with the image of them making love burning into my mind.I haven’t told anyone. Not about what I saw. Not about what I felt. Not even about the kiss that still lingers like a curse on my lips.I bury myself in my secret training, errands, anything that will keep my mind from spiraling. I feel empty inside, I know it might be because of Tristan's continuous cold attitude towards me, despite being mates, or it may be because Thorne no longer looks at me or acknowledges me. It may also be due to the fact that my childhood love, Luther didn't work out and now he is also not in good terms with me. Either way, the emptiness keeps on eating me from inside out, and although I should be worried, it is better to feel numb than to bear the pain in my heart.One afternoon, I run into Isabel behind the manor. She’s tending the moonflowers that only bloom when the night air is still. She straightens w
Serena.“We need to talk Serena”, Thorne says as he barges into the quarters. I hold my breath expecting the worse and formulating lies in my head as to why Luther is with me.However, he’s gone. One second Luther is standing right next to me in the quarters. The next… the space is empty. “It's about what we said earlier”. Thorne murmurs scratching behind his ears, totally oblivious to what just happened.I barely have time to respond when another voice interrupts. “Serena.”It's Tristan. Of course.He storms in behind Thorne like he owns the damn room. His eyes flick to Thorne, and then back to me with that same old disgust curling on his lips.“You were supposed to clean the eastern baths this evening. They reek of wolf sweat,” he says coldly, his arms folding.I stammer, “I—I forgot. I’m sorry, I’ll get to it now—”Thorne’s jaw ticks, but he says nothing. He turns his back and walks out.I cannot just watch him go again, so I run to him this time, my heart beating too fast for
Serena.“Did he come?” Thorne’s voice cracks through the quiet, jagged and heavy like a stone hurled into still water. I freeze, breath catches in my chest, a thousand answers crawling up my throat.“Who?” I ask, though I already know who I think he means.His eyes meet mine, searching. “The traitor. The one who took Sylvaine?.” He pauses. “You keep glancing at the door and you have the same expression you had when she was taken.”Relief comes sharp and fast but guilt rides in its shadow. Because yes, some part of me was waiting. Waiting for the crash of another storm, the familiar sting of Tristan gaze. For someone I had no right still thinking about.“No,” I whisper, my voice barely there. “He didn’t come, he escaped.”Thorne’s expression doesn't shift. He doesn't ask for more. Instead, he leaned forward, cupped my jaw in his calloused hand, and kissed me again. The kind of kiss that tried to forget the world. I let myself get lost in it, just for a moment longer.But even now, part
Serena.Athea's smile is serene and triumphant. “You should’ve known, Serena. Power always comes with a price. And men…..” she glances at Tristan with mild contempt, “.....they give too easily.”“How…?” I whisper, stunnedAthea steps forward. “Blood magic alone doesn’t work on someone like him. But when your soul… and your body… have tasted mine?” She shrugs. “Let’s just say the spell becomes unbreakable.”Thorne growls, “You slept with him?”Serena reels. “Tristan, no….”He doesn't respond, he's still under Athea’s control.Athea raises her hand. “Restrain them.”Tristan obeys.“Tristan, please. This isn’t you.” I whisper in a voice that is soft, broken. Something in eyes change and as he reaches for me, there’s a tremor in his fingers. His expression falters.A flicker of silver tries to bleed through the green. He hesitates, long enough for Athea to snap, her eyes flaring.“So disappointing,” she mutters. “Fine. If I can’t have your full devotion…” She turns to Thorne.“Let’s see
Serena.The cold stone floor bites into my knees as we’re forced to kneel, wrists bound behind our backs with cords that hum faintly with magic. Thorne struggles beside me, his muscles straining against the enchanted ropes, but they only tighten in response.Athea stands before us like a queen before her court, red cloak flaring, hair wild, eyes glowing with unnatural fire.“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I whisper. “You were helping us.”Her gaze softens, barely. “I spared you for a little while longer.”Thorne growls. “You used us. You lied.”She sighs and steps closer, crouching so her face is level with mine. “No, cousin. I protected you. I delayed the Rite for you.”“Cousin?” I echo. “That wasn't just a part of your lies and deceit?Thorne stiffens. “What?”She tilts her head. “You never wondered why we looked alike?” Her fingers brush my cheek, almost tender. “We share blood, Serena. Our mothers were sisters. Daughters of Raelor.”The name strikes like thunder. “No,” I breathe
Serena.Athea’s hood falls back, and for a moment, no one breathes. Her white hair glows like snow in torchlight, her green eyes that look too much like mine seem calm, drawing whoever cares to gaze at them in.Thorne’s sword doesn’t lower. “Athea?” She stands her ground, voice steady. ““Your father made enemies on both sides of the Gate, Serena. You’re just starting to see the truth.”.”I stare at her, heart pounding. “What are you talking about?”Athea doesn’t look at me. Her gaze is fixed on Thorne. “I’ve been working undercover. With Alpha Prince Tristan.”“Tristan?” I echo. “He sent you?”Thorne’s jaw clenches. “You’re a spy?”“A scout,” she counters coolly. “A volunteer. The prince received whispers months ago, rumors about a cult rooted in Raelor’s old worship. When I joined the manor's slaves, he recognized the symbol, just like this one etched in my amulet. It matched one carved on the wall of a ruined stronghold in the mountains. I knew the whispers were true and wanted answ
Serena.Sylvaine disappears into the manor before I can ask questions. That night, I barely sleep. My dreams are filled with red cloaks, flickering torches, and the hollow echo of a chant that won't leave my head.The next day, I return to the hidden library as soon as I find the chance. This time however, I make sure I’m not followed. The passage is exactly as I met it before. The door groans open, and the familiar scent of dust and old parchment wraps around me like a welcome.I go back to the book I was reading the day Thorne and General Vasquez barged in. The one with the gilded spine and wolf’s eye seal.The letters are still tucked inside, the edges are crinkled from age. My father’s handwriting, bold and precise, spills out in passionate pleas to Henry Sinclair. I hadn't seen this particular letter. It is hidden so well that it blends with the pages of the book.> “You know this wolf cannot be allowed to open the gate, Henry. There are forces beyond even our understanding. I d
Serena. The hood falls back, and my breath seizes. “Sylvaine?”She smirks. “Really, Rena, you looked like you were about to faint. I’m not that scary.”I don’t know whether to slap her or hug her. Relief bubbles up, unexpected and warm.“You…….” I shake my head, still catching up. “Why the cloak? Why all the drama?”She lifts a brow. “You think I’d risk sneaking out in full princess regalia? Honestly.”Then she grabs my hand. “Come on. I have a little... mischief planned.”“Should I be worried?” I ask as she tugs me along.“Probably,” she says brightly.We creep past the outer gardens, tiptoe behind the east wall, and slip by two guards who are far too busy arguing over whether the moon looks better from the east tower or the west.Sylvaine rolls her eyes. “Muscle, no brains.”At the stables, she snatches two worn travel cloaks from a hook, tossing one at me. “For blending in,” she whispers. “And because you look like heartbreak personified.”I shove her lightly. “Gee, thanks.”We du
Serena.The world tilts. For a moment, I can’t breathe.Thorne’s words slice through the night like a blade, severing the fragile thread of hope Tristan had dangled before me.Tristan rises to his feet, face a mask of fury. “You’re lying,” he growls.Thorne just laughs, slow and cruel. “Am I?” He circles closer, predatory. “Go ahead. Ask him. Ask your precious Alpha Prince Tristan how he spent the night you almost died.”I don't want to. I don’t want to ask, because deep down, I already know.My throat tightens painfully. Still, I force the words out. "Tristan. Tell me he’s lying."The fire crackles between us, painting his face in harsh shadows.He says nothing, nothing at all. The silence is louder than any confession.Something inside me, something already frayed and fragile, finally snaps. I do not scream or sob. I just let the silence, colder than any winter surface between us.I take a step back. Then another. Tristan moves toward me, hand outstretched, desperation flashing
Serena.The silence after his words was the kind that crushed mountains.I watch Alessia crumble. Her face, once smug and glittering, is twisted into a mask of panic. She stumbles back from the Queen’s arms, her mouth flapping, trying to find some anchor in a room where none existed anymore.“No, he’s lying!” Alessia cries. “He just... he just wants to ruin me”“Enough,” the Queen snapped, voice sharp enough to flay skin.Tristan’s face is as hard as stone, carved from the same cruelty he used to reserve for enemies of the crown. “Bring the Seer,” he orders.Minutes pass like lifetimes. When the Seer arrives, cloaked in deep blue, the truth peels from Alessia like a second skin.She confesses that it has been all lies, manipulation and ambition. When she discovered that she was pregnant, she had to think of a way to secure the future of herself and that of her child.It is true that she had been intimate with Tristan, but it had been a long time again and Tristan had rejected her as a
Serena.Darkness. But not the kind that scares children. This was weightless, endless silence. A void where even pain didn’t reach.Until it did. My ribs ache first, then my temples. Then a thousand invisible strings tug at the corners of my soul, like they are trying to sew me back together after something had torn me in half.My eyes blink open to soft, flickering candlelight and a face I don’t expect.Alessia.She’s sitting near the edge of the room, her hands folded in her lap. She doesn't speak. Neither do I.Because the question hanging in the air is louder than anything she could say: Who did you choose?I wish I knew.I sit up slowly, realising I'm now alone and seeing Alessia was a figment of my imagination, no Priestess, no Tristan and no Thorne. I touch my chest, but I don't feel any threads, there's no warmth. Just my skin and heartbeat. Was the bond broken completely? Did I choose no one?Or worse… was I never truly meant for either of them?I hear footsteps. “Serena?
Thorne.The thread split. I saw it happen, not imagined, not some fever-dream hope, like the one I've been holding onto too tightly lately. It stretched from Serena’s chest, flickering like a frightened star. One line pulled toward Tristan, desperate, familiar. The other... faltered, wavered, and then turned, toward me.It hit me like a punch to the ribs. I felt it. The bond. Not theory. Not fantasy. A real bond, and mine. But not only mine.Because fate, it seems, is a cruel thing, and Serena Nikolai and I are its favorite fates to ruin.She didn’t look at me right away. Her gaze was fixed on the flickering strands, on the confusion. On him. Always him.Across the circle, Tristan looked like a man standing in the wreckage of his own lies, he still had his stupid confident facade, yes, but cracking. His shoulders tight. His mouth a grim line. The medallion at his feet like a dropped crown, proof of betrayal no one could ignore anymore.But still, even in this chaos, the gods saw fit