LOGINAmelia‘s hands suddenly slapped over her temples, her fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks on her pale skin. The room went silent as her head dropped forward, copper hair falling across her face like a curtain. A sound escaped her, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, her lips forming words too soft for me to catch at first. Then her voice rose, desperate and shaking. “No, no, no, no. I won’t do it, Sera.” My breath froze in my lungs as her eyes squeezed shut, pain evident in every line of her body.I moved without thinking, pushing back from the table so quickly my chair nearly toppled. I pulled her against my chest, one arm around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head. Her body was rigid with tension, muscles locked as if fighting against invisible restraints.“Amelia,” I murmured against her hair. “I’m here. You’re safe.”But she couldn’t hear me, or if she could, the words weren’t getting through. Her voice continued, broken phrases tumbling from her lips. “
Two days passed before Elder Maren arrived, her silver-white hair swept into a severe bun that emphasised her sharp, ink-dark eyes. I’d spent those two days walking the palace grounds with Lukas, letting him fill in the gaps of my missing history, trying to make sense of who, or what, I truly was. But questions still hung in the air between us, unanswered and heavy with implication. The crescent moon pendant at Elder Maren’s throat caught the light as she entered the reading room, the small space suddenly feeling smaller with five people crowded around the ancient oak table.The reading room had always been my favourite space in the palace. Tall windows lined the eastern wall, streaming morning light across polished shelves and worn leather armchairs. Books towered from floor to ceiling, ancient volumes in languages few could still read, their spines cracking with age. It felt appropriate to discuss prophecies in a room steeped in so much history.“You must be Amala Luna,” Elder Maren
The private meadow stretched before us, a swathe of green bordered by ancient trees that provided perfect privacy from the palace windows. I walked beside Lukas, our shoulders nearly touching, as we led the elders along the well-worn path from the palace to the clearing. Behind us, Nico and Dominic followed in silent formation, along with a full contingent of royal guards positioned strategically throughout the forest perimeter. Despite the apparently peaceful setting, the atmosphere remained tense, alert, everyone aware of the threat the Voice still posed.The shifting shack stood at the meadow’s edge, a simple wooden structure we’d erected specifically for privacy during transformations. I ducked inside first, the familiar space smelling of pine and the essential oils we used to keep the clothing racks free of insects. I stripped quickly, hanging my clothes on the hooks mounted on the wall, before stepping back to the doorway.
I watched Amelia as the elders spoke, studying every subtle shift in her expression, each tightening of her jaw, each momentary furrow of her brow. My mate had always been skilled at maintaining a mask of composure, but I’d learned to read the emotions she tried to hide. Right now, beneath her careful control, she was processing something monumental. The revelations about her birth, about Amala Luna Velasco, had clearly shaken her, but there was more. Something she needed to know but couldn’t quite bring herself to ask.Alara noticed too, her violet eyes warming with understanding as she studied my queen. “You want to know what your birth means, my Queen?” she asked, her voice gentle.Amelia gave a small, almost hesitant smile. “I’ve imagined so many scenarios over the years,” she admitted. “So many reasons or events that could have led to me ending up with Marcus and Elena. But just appe
The private dining room glowed in the morning light, casting warm patterns across the polished wood table where Elder Alara and Elder Orion waited. They rose in unison as Lukas and I entered, their eyes widening slightly at the crown nestled in my copper hair. I felt a flutter of nerves beneath my ribs, not from their scrutiny, but from the weight of history about to unfold. Yesterday, I’d been too exhausted to fully process their revelations. Today, with the crown’s gentle pressure against my temples, I couldn’t hide from who I truly was, or from the forces that had been manipulating my destiny since before I could walk.“Alpha Queen Amelia,” Elder Alara greeted, her unusual violet eyes lingering on my crown with unmistakable satisfaction. “The new crown suits you well.”“Alpha King Lukas,” Elder Orion added with a formal nod to Lukas. “Thank yo
I woke to the steady rhythm of Lukas’s heart beneath my ear, his arms wrapped around me like a fortress against the world. Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting our bedroom in soft gold that seemed to push back the shadows of yesterday’s revelations. Amelia Blackwood. Amelia Volkov. Amala Luna Velasco. The names tumbled through my mind like stones in a river, each one catching the light differently, each one a piece of who I was, or who I might become.Lukas’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, telling me he was awake without words. I tilted my head to find his ice-blue eyes already watching me, corners crinkled with a smile that hadn’t quite reached his lips.“Good morning, my Queen,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead that lingered like a promise.“Morning,” I replied, my voice still rough with sleep. I shifted slightly, testing my body
Athena snarled within my mind, her presence surging forward with protective fury. 'Kill threat,' she growled, golden warmth flooding my veins with aggression. 'Tear apart. Protect mate. Protect position.' I kept my face carefully neutral. The parchment felt impossibly heavy in my hand, its formal
I savoured the silence of our private chambers, a rare reprieve from the constant vigilance required since the rogue attacks. Amelia sat across from me, copper curls loose around her shoulders, the candlelight casting golden highlights across her skin. This, these private moments behind closed do
I hit the training mat hard enough to knock the air from my lungs, a familiar pain after three days of Nico throwing me around the royal gym. Sweat plastered my copper hair to my forehead and neck, my muscles screaming in protest as I forced myself to stand again. Athena growled her approval with
I stretched languidly in our bed, the morning sun filtering through the gauzy curtains and painting golden patterns across the silk sheets. Three months had passed since the wolf moon attack - three months of heightened security, interrogations, and an uneasy peace that felt more like the stillness







