LOGIN“Kaelen!”
Ellion’s voice broke through the tension first, bright with something that didn’t belong in that room—relief. Genuine relief. It was so out of place that Elowen’s head turned toward him instinctively. He was already on his feet. The others didn’t move. Why on earth don't they all look alike? Each unique to his personality. Why? Kaelen stepped fully into the room, the chains dragging behind him in a slow, grating rhythm that seemed to scrape against the silence itself. Every step he took echoed, not because the room demanded it, but because everyone else had gone still enough to let it. He didn’t look restrained. That was the unsettling part. Despite the chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles, despite the guards flanking him, Kaelen carried himself like none of it mattered. Like this was a walk he had chosen, not one forced on him. A crooked smile rested on his lips, lazy and sharp at the same time. His gaze swept across the room once, taking everything in, dismissing most of it just as quickly. The moment his eyes passed over Elowen, something in her chest tightened. Not fear. Something worse. Recognition of danger. Zevrian shifted slightly, just enough for Elowen to notice the subtle movement of his hand. A signal. Ellion saw it too. He hesitated. It was small, almost invisible—but it was there. His fingers tightened briefly at his sides before he reached into his coat and pulled something out. A bracelet. Metal. Sleek. But the way he looked at it. Wary “El—” Ellion started, then corrected himself, forcing a small smile as he stepped forward. “Hey… Kaelen.” Kaelen’s eyes flicked to the bracelet, then back to Ellion’s face. The smirk didn’t fade, but something behind it sharpened. “It’s okay,” Kaelen said casually, lifting his wrists slightly despite the chains. “Do what you have to do.” Ellion exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, like he was approaching something unpredictable. “You know it’s just temporary,” Ellion added quietly, almost like he was reassuring himself. Kaelen didn’t respond. He just held out his wrist. Ellion slipped the bracelet on. For a second, nothing happened. Then, a soft click. It locked into place. Ellion stepped back immediately and Zevrian snapped his fingers. The chains dropped. Metal hit the floor in a heavy, echoing crash, the guards stepping back instantly as if released from an invisible command. Kaelen rolled his shoulders once, flexing his hands as if testing the absence of weight. Zevrian spoke, his voice even. “The bracelet suppresses your abilities. If you attempt to use them, it will retaliate.” Kaelen glanced down at it briefly, turning his wrist as if examining a piece of jewelry rather than a restraint. “So I’ve been told.” He started walking further into the room, each step slow, measured, completely unbothered by the eyes tracking his movement. “These lights,” he muttered, glancing up. “Unnecessary.” Zevrian didn’t respond. Kaelen stopped beneath one of the bulbs, tilting his head slightly as he looked at it. Then— Pop. The bulb shattered. Not violently. Just a small, controlled burst, glass cracking with a faint snap as the light above flickered out. Elowen flinched, her shoulders tensing as her body jerked slightly against the chair. Kaelen noticed and his head turned slowly. His eyes landed on her and this time, they stayed. A smile spread across his face again, slower now. “Well,” he said, his voice low, almost amused. “So this is her?” Ellion nodded from behind him. “Yes.” Kaelen took a step closer. Then another. “She matched with us." Ellion added. " All of us.” Elowen’s pulse spiked, her fingers curling instinctively even though the ropes held them useless. Something in the air shifted again. That same pressure. That same pull. She had felt it with the others. But this— This was different. It was stronger. More violent. Kaelen stopped in front of her. For a second, nothing happened. Then, his eyes darkened slightly, his expression tightening just a fraction. Elowen saw it—saw the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting something. Resisting. “What—” he started, his voice lower now, strained in a way that didn’t match his earlier ease. His eyes shut briefly and his shoulders tensed. “No,” he muttered under his breath. Elowen stared at him, confusion flickering through her fear. What is happening? His eyes snapped open again and locked onto hers. And whatever fight had been there, snapped. “Mate.” The word came out like a verdict. Draven let out a low breath, leaning back slightly. “Finally.” Ellion’s lips curved faintly, something like quiet triumph in his expression. Zevrian didn’t smile—but the tension in him eased. Like something had just been confirmed. Kaelen stepped back abruptly. The change was instant. His expression twisted. Disgust flooded his features as he looked at her properly now, like the word he had just said had finally settled into his mind. “She’s human.” The way he said it, like it was offensive. Like it was wrong. Elowen’s stomach twisted. “Get away from me…” she started, her voice sharp despite the tremor in it but she didn’t get to finish. His hand shot out. Fast. Too fast and his fingers wrapped around her throat before she could react, squeezing just enough to cut off her breath. Her body jerked, a choked sound escaping her as her hands strained uselessly against the ropes. Her vision blurred for a second. His eyes… They weren’t normal. They were black. Completely. And empty. Something inhuman. Draven was on his feet instantly. “I thought you said the bracelet worked!” Zevrian moved just as fast, grabbing Kaelen’s arm and trying to pull him back. “Release her.” But Kaelen didn’t budge. His grip tightened slightly. Elowen gasped, her chest heaving as panic surged through her. Ellion stepped forward, his voice strained. “It is working! He can’t shadow walk—that’s what it was designed for!” Draven shot him a furious look. “You said it would suppress his abilities!” “It’s suppressing most of them!” Ellion snapped back, frustration breaking through his calm. “I didn’t anticipate…” “You didn’t anticipate?” Draven’s voice rose. “You were told exactly what to do!” “I did it!” Ellion shot back. “This shouldn’t be happening!” Kaelen’s grip tightened for a split second more. Elowen’s body trembled, her lungs burning as she struggled for air. Then, he let go. Just like that. She collapsed forward slightly, gasping harshly as air rushed back into her lungs. Before she could even fully recover, he spat at her. The saliva hit her cheek, sliding down slowly. The room went still again. Draven straightened, his posture shifting completely. Sorrian’s expression hardened, his stance changing just enough to show he was ready. Ready for a fight. Kaelen didn’t care. He looked at her like she was something beneath him. “Don’t come near me,” he said, his voice cold now. Final. “Ever.” Elowen’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her throat burning, her eyes stinging—not from tears, but from the force of everything hitting her at once. “Or I will rip your head off.” She could see he meant it. He turned and walked out. Just like that. The doors shut behind him with a heavy sound that echoed longer than it should have. Silence followed. Elowen sat there, shaking slightly, her breath uneven as she tried to steady herself. Her throat hurt. Her skin still felt like his hand was there. Zevrian looked down at her. For a moment, something passed through his expression. Not pity, not quite. But something close enough to an apology that it made her stomach twist. Then it was gone. The door opened again. An elderly maid stepped in quietly, her posture respectful but firm. Zevrian spoke without looking away from Elowen. “She will take you to your room.” Elowen’s head snapped up slightly. Room? “Prepare her,” Zevrian added. “She will meet elders.” Her stomach dropped. Draven moved toward her, crouching slightly as he reached for the restraints. The ropes loosened quickly under his hands, falling away from her wrists and ankles. She winced as circulation returned, her muscles stiff and sore. He helped her up. Carefully. “Easy,” he muttered, his tone lower now. Less sharp. “You’re fine.” She jerked her arm slightly away from him, not fully pulling back but not accepting the help either. “I don’t need your help,” she said hoarsely. He ignored that, steadying her anyway. “Kaelen’s… like that.” “That doesn’t excuse anything,” she snapped. “No,” he agreed simply. “It doesn’t.” Ellion stood a few steps away, his expression tight, guilt written clearly across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Elowen didn’t look at him. Everything was too loud in her head. The maid stepped closer. “Come,” she said gently. Elowen hesitated for half a second. Then she moved. Because what choice did she have?Elowen’s chest rose and fell in uneven bursts behind the gag, tears streaming freely down her face as everything around her spiraled into something she couldn’t make sense of anymore. The pain in her wrists, the pressure against her throat, the cold surface of the board beneath her—it all faded into the background compared to the sheer weight of what was unfolding in front of her. The elders, who moments ago had held absolute authority, were now on their knees. The room that had once felt controlled and structured now felt unpredictable, almost dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with blades or claws. Grand Alpha Sylas remained bowed, but his voice rose, strained with something deeper than authority now. “I am tired,” he said, each word carrying the weight of years. “Tired of sacrificing my blood again and again. This cycle needs to end.” The figure standing in Lysara’s body did not move immediately. When she did, it was slow, deliberate, like every motion carried purp
The restraints bit into Elowen’s wrists as she struggled, the rough leather digging deeper with every frantic pull. Her body was stretched against the board, arms pinned above her head, ankles secured so tightly she could barely move. Panic clawed its way up her chest, sharp and suffocating, her breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as she twisted uselessly against the bindings. “No—no, please!” Her voice cracked, desperation tearing through every word as she fought against the inevitable. “Let me go! Please!” Her gaze snapped toward Zevrian first, locking onto him like he was her last anchor. “Zevrian, you said…” her voice broke, swallowing hard before forcing the words out again, “you said you had a way out. You promised!” For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression. It was quick—so quick she almost thought she imagined it. Then he looked away. That hurt more than anything. “Zevrian!” she screamed, her voice rising, cracking under the weight of betra
The doors to the Oracle opened with a low, echoing creak that seemed to vibrate through Elowen’s chest. The space beyond was vast, colder than the rest of the house, and filled with a kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—it felt watchful. She stepped inside slowly, her heels brushing against the polished stone floor, each step sounding louder than it should have. The aisle stretched long before her, leading to a raised platform where three figures sat in stillness. Two women flanked an elderly man at the center, their presence commanding in very different ways. The woman on the left looked younger, her posture elegant, her gaze sharp and observant. The one on the right was older, her face lined with age, her eyes completely white, unfocused yet unsettling, as though she saw far more than anyone else in the room. Elowen swallowed and forced herself forward. As she walked, her eyes flickered to the sides, and that was when she noticed them—the chairs. Ten of them, five
The door opened with quiet precision, and he stepped in like he already owned the room. His presence filled the room without effort, calm and controlled in a way that immediately put her on edge again. “Elowen,” he greeted, his tone polite, almost formal. She straightened slightly where she stood near the center of the room, her emotions still raw but tucked just beneath the surface now. “Zevrian.” There was a brief pause between them, measured and deliberate. Then she gestured toward the small seating area tucked near the window. “You can sit.” Her voice wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t hostile either. Just… careful. Zevrian glanced at the chairs but didn’t move toward them. “I prefer to stand.” Of course you do, she thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. Everything about him screamed control—even the way he chose to exist in a room. “Then say what you came to say,” she replied, folding her arms slightly. He studied her for a moment, like he was assessing how much she cou
Elowen sat at the edge of the bed, her shoulders still shaking faintly as she tried to steady her breathing. The softness beneath her felt foreign, almost wrong, like her body didn’t belong in something this comfortable. Her hands trembled in her lap, and she pressed her lips together hard, trying to force the tears back down, trying to regain control before she completely unraveled again. A box of tissues appeared in front of her. She blinked, her vision still slightly blurred, and looked up. Ellion stood there, his expression quiet, careful. Not pitying—just… aware. “Here,” he said gently. She hesitated for a second before taking one, her fingers brushing against his briefly. The contact made her stiffen, but she quickly pulled back, pressing the tissue to her face as she wiped at her tears. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though her voice betrayed her immediately. Ellion didn’t argue. He didn’t call her out on it either. He simply sat down beside her, leaving just eno
The door closed softly behind her, but the sound echoed in Elowen’s head longer than it should have. She stood just inside the room, not moving at first. Then she looked up. And froze. The space was massive. Not just large—excessive. High ceilings stretched above her, detailed with carved patterns she couldn’t even fully take in at once. The walls were lined with dark wood and gold accents, polished to a shine that reflected the light from the chandeliers overhead. The bed alone was bigger than the entire sleeping quarters at the Forge, draped in thick fabrics that looked too expensive to even touch. Her throat tightened slightly. In her former life—before the war, before the cages—this would have been something out of a story. Something she would have admired from a distance, never expecting to stand in the middle of it. Now she was here. Not as a guest. Not by choice. “This is…” she muttered under her breath, her voice trailing off. She didn’t finish it. Because wh







