LOGINThe wire bit into my ankle, cutting deep. Blood trickled down as I dangled upside down like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s trap.
Damon stepped into the moonlight, that calm, predatory smile stretched across his face. “You’ve always underestimated me,” he said, crouching beside me like he had all the time in the world. “That’s your first mistake.” “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” I hissed. His laugh was low and unbothered. “Maybe. But you didn’t. And now here we are.” The clearing around us was dead silent, as if even the forest refused to bear witness to what came next. Damon reached into his coat and pulled out a blade—curved, obsidian black, humming with faint energy. “Do you know what this is?” I didn’t answer. “Ancient werewolf iron. Soaked in the blood of an Alpha god.” He raised the blade to my throat, letting it graze my skin. “It’s meant to subdue power like yours. The Luna Star can’t be allowed to run wild, after all.” I swallowed hard, refusing to let him see the fear tightening in my chest. “You’re not going to kill me,” I said, voice steady. “You need me.” “True,” he murmured. “But I can hurt you. And trust me, Elara—I’ve become very good at that.” The blade pressed harder, a thin line of blood trailing down my neck. I gritted my teeth and stared him down. “Kael will find me.” “I hope he does,” Damon whispered. “I’d love to kill him in front of you.” He didn’t kill me, though. Not yet. He cut me down, let me crash to the ground, then dragged me through the woods by my arms like I was nothing more than a rag doll. I fought. Bit. Kicked. He didn’t flinch. His strength was unnatural, enhanced by whatever deal he’d struck with that creature. By the time we reached the edge of the pack territory, I was too sore to stand. My ankle throbbed from the trap, my wrists were raw, and blood stained the leaves behind us. Still, I didn’t beg. Damon hauled me into one of the old bunkers near the mountain base. Reinforced with silver-laced stone and spellbound locks, it was where the pack used to keep rogues during war times. Now, it was my cage. “Get comfortable,” Damon said, tossing me onto a straw-strewn cot. “You’ll be here a while.” I spat at his boots. “Rot in hell.” He crouched low, cupping my face. “We both will, love. That’s the beauty of it.” I don’t know how long I was trapped. There were no windows. No clocks. Just the hum of the wards in the walls and the ache in my bones. Sometimes, he came to talk. Other times, he just watched me. Always calm. Always calculating. Like I was a puzzle he was close to solving. “You’re changing,” he said one night, sitting on the other side of the iron bars. “You feel it, don’t you? That hunger. That pull. You think Kael can save you from what’s coming, but he can’t.” “You don’t know anything about me.” He smiled. “I know your scent changes when you think of him. You forget what that makes you? Weak. Feral. Dangerous.” I looked away. “You’re wrong.” “No,” he said. “I’m the only one who sees you clearly. You were born to stand beside a god. But you’re playing house with a broken Alpha who can’t even protect his mate.” My fists clenched. “Kael is twice the Alpha you’ll ever be.” “And yet, here you are. In my cage.” His words sliced sharper than any blade. But I refused to let them root in my heart. Because Kael would come. He had to. On the third night, I felt it. A whisper of magic in the air. A thread of something that wasn’t from Damon, or this place. It was familiar, warm… lunar. I pressed my palm against the wall and closed my eyes. “Kael?” I whispered. Silence. Then… faintly… “I’m coming.” My heart slammed into my ribs. He’d found me. But Damon felt it too. He stormed into the cell, eyes glowing red, shadows curling at his fingertips. “You’re drawing him to you.” I stood, defiant. “I didn’t do anything.” “Don’t lie to me!” he roared, grabbing my throat and slamming me into the wall. “The bond—you’re using it against me!” His power surged, dark and heavy, pressing against my chest like a vice. “You’re going to break this connection with him,” Damon snarled. “Or I’ll make you watch him die.” “Do it,” I spat, choking. “He’d still be more of a man than you’ll ever be.” He raised the blade again. But this time, I didn’t flinch. And something inside me snapped again. Light exploded from my chest. White. Pure. Blinding. It flung Damon across the room like a ragdoll, slammed the door shut behind him, and shattered the chains that held me. I collapsed, gasping, as the magic fizzled around me. Footsteps echoed above. Too many. Damon would recover in seconds, and reinforcements were already coming. I had to move. Now. Limping, I made my way to the broken door, stepped into the corridor— And found Kael standing at the other end. His chest was heaving, his eyes wild with relief and fury. “Elara,” he breathed. “Kael—” But just as I took a step toward him— A silver dart shot out of the shadows and hit him square in the chest. He fell.Elara The Throne isn’t a seat. It’s a wound. A jagged monument of black crystal, veins of molten silver pulsing through it like a living heart torn from the chest of some primordial god. It rises at the center of the void, spires hooked like talons toward a sky that isn’t sky—just an endless chasm of stars swirling like an open eye. And Kael stands at its base. His back to me. Shadows curl from his skin like smoke from burning silk, streaming toward the Throne as if gravity itself bends to him. The raw force rolling off him is a tide that steals breath, thought, everything. It shakes the spires around us like they’re nothing more than brittle glass. And then—he moves. Slow. Deliberate. One step toward the Throne. The bond lashes through me so violently I stagger, Seris’ grip the only thing keeping me upright. “Elara—” Her voice is a knife at my ear. “If he sits—” “I know.” Gods, I know. Because this isn’t just Kael taking a seat. This is Kael becoming what the world has
Elara My feet hit the Ashen Road like it isn’t shattering beneath me. Like I’m not walking into the jaws of something that will swallow everything. Because Kael said my name. And the bond—gods, the bond is no longer a whisper or a hum. It’s a storm inside me, a tidal pull that drags me forward even as Seris’ fingers claw into my arm, anchoring me like a hook in my flesh. “Elara!” Her voice is jagged steel. “Don’t you dare—” I wrench free. I don’t even feel myself doing it. Shadows coil around my ankles, wrapping like vines, slick and alive. They’re gentle on me—terrifyingly gentle—while the rest of the world screams. Because Kael isn’t a man anymore. He’s becoming. The Throne answers him, pulses with him, like it’s always been waiting for his voice. Spires of black crystal bloom upward, splitting the Ashen Road like ribs tearing from the body of a god. Silver light veins through them—Kael’s veins, Kael’s blood made architecture—and the air bends, warps, like gravity is breakin
Elara Time fractures. Not like glass this time—like bone. Painful. Irreversible. Every second grinds like teeth, gnashing reality down to splinters as three pairs of eyes pin me where I stand. Kael. Lucious. Seris. Waiting. Bleeding power into the air until the Ashen Road groans beneath us, fissures splitting in veins of black fire and molten gold. The Throne behind Kael pulses with hunger, a heartbeat of the void—each throb louder than mine, louder than thought, louder than prayer. “Choose.” Kael’s voice is calm, and that terrifies me more than rage ever could. Calm means certainty. Calm means the storm already belongs to him. Lucious’s jaw clenches, his blade trembling under Kael’s grip, light leaking from his knuckles like it’s trying to burn through his own flesh to reach me. “Elara…” His voice is raw, breaking at the edges. “Don’t.” Seris doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. Her silence is a blade sharper than both of theirs, cutting through the roaring bond with a single
Elara Lucious’s roar splits the silence like a blade through glass—jagged and merciless. I spin, heart lurching against my ribs—and there he is. Tearing across the Ashen Road like a storm on fire, his wings blaze molten gold, every feather burning as if the sun itself bleeds through him. Light pours from him in torrents, searing the dark beneath my skin, pushing it back for one fragile heartbeat. Behind him, Seris runs silent and swift, cloak a shredded shadow, her blade naked in her hand, her eyes fixed on Kael with the calm of a predator stalking its kill. And Kael? Kael doesn’t move. He stands like a god carved from ruin—still, unshakable—one hand outstretched toward me, the Throne burning behind him like a black sun. A second, shattered dawn. Its light is wrong, too bright and too deep all at once, a radiance that stains everything it touches. “Elara!” Lucious’s voice rakes across my bones, raw and commanding. “Get away from him!” The bond snarls in response, wild and viol
Elara The Ashen Road bleeds under my feet. Not with blood, but with memory. Every step I take grinds the bones of what was into dust—fragments of cities, echoes of voices, scraps of myself I didn’t know I could lose. It’s quiet here. Too quiet. No roar of void, no screams of worlds unraveling. Just the sound of my breath and the slow, steady unraveling of everything I thought I was. And then— The visions begin. At first, they’re thin as smoke. My mother’s laugh. The taste of summer fruit on my tongue. A child’s voice—mine—singing some long-forgotten lullaby. I reach for them, but they dissolve like mist. Then Kael. Not the Kael I left bleeding in the shadows, not the Kael whose hunger I feel in my marrow now—but Kael as he was that night under the obsidian sky, firelight curling across his jaw, his hand warm against mine. “Elara,” he whispers, and I almost fall to my knees. Because it’s not the Throne’s voice. Not yet. It’s his. But when I blink, the image splits—Kael at the
Elara The silence after the Weavers’ words is not silence at all. It’s a void full of echoes, threads whispering in my blood, Kael’s voice tangled through every breath like smoke. Lucious moves first. His light flares sharp and hard, burning white against the black. He points his blade at the veiled figures. “You knew this. You’ve known all along.” “We are what remains of knowing,” they answer in that braided chorus, calm as the grave. “But the weave has knotted. The pattern strains.” “Speak plain,” Seris snaps, steel singing as she bares her teeth at them like a wolf. “What do you mean by hers?” They do not turn to her. They do not turn to Lucious. They turn to me. “The bond was forged in blood and breath. It threads through what you were and what you will become.” One steps forward, its voice unraveling into something soft, something almost human. “You can end him. Or you can join him.” The air drops cold, like the void itself is listening. “No.” Lucious’s voice is a blade







