CHAPTER5- Secrets in Stone

The air inside the chamber was thick with dust and something older—magic, maybe, or memory. Faded banners hung limp from the walls, their sigils barely visible beneath layers of age and silence. Shelves lined with scrolls and crumbling tomes surrounded a circular stone dais at the center. Strange symbols glowed faintly across the floor, like veins of moonlight trapped in rock.

Damian closed the door behind us, and the quiet felt like a held breath. “This is the Council Room of the First Blood,” he said, voice low. “Only those of royal lineage were ever allowed to step inside.” My skin prickled at the word—royal—and the way it seemed to coil around my name.

I stepped closer to the dais, drawn by something I couldn’t name. The pendant around my neck pulsed once, a deep throb that echoed in my bones. The moment I reached the center, the sigils flared brighter, bathing me in silver-blue light. Damian didn’t move, just watched with something like reverence… or fear.

“What bloodline am I from?” I asked again, the question rising sharper now, no longer soft with doubt. He exhaled, then reached into the inner pocket of his coat. From it, he pulled a scroll sealed with an emblem I had never seen before.

“It’s not just your blood that matters,” he said as he handed it over. “It’s the war that comes with it.”

My fingers trembled as I broke the seal, the parchment crackling like it remembered the hands of those who’d opened it before. The words were written in a language I didn’t know, but somehow, I understood them—like my body remembered what my mind did not. Names, titles, battles… and a prophecy.

A name at the end of the scroll stopped my heart: Selena of the First Flame.

And beneath it, scrawled in a hand different from the rest, was a single sentence: She who returns will either save us—or burn the world down.

My fingers trembled as I reached for the edge of the scroll again, tracing the name that shouldn’t exist. How could they have known? How could anyone have written that name centuries ago when I had only just turned eighteen? It felt like the world tilted, reality cracking open beneath my feet.

Angela’s hand closed over mine, warm but firm, steadying me before I collapsed beneath the weight of it all. “This is what they feared,” she whispered, her eyes not leaving the parchment. “Not the omega title, not your rejection… this.” Her voice shook now too, low and reverent, as though speaking louder might set the prophecy aflame.

I tore my gaze from the scroll and looked at her, desperate for answers she wasn’t ready to give. “What does it mean? ‘First Flame’? Why am I written in a prophecy that predates my birth?” My voice sounded foreign to me, thin and tight, like it belonged to someone drowning. “Why does it say I could burn the world down?”

Angela hesitated, her lips parting—then sealing again. She turned away, pulling a dusty book from a nearby shelf and opening it with care. “Because the First Flame was a bloodline erased from history. Hunted. Feared. Hidden in plain sight… until you.” She flipped to a page where an ancient crest flickered in faded gold, a burning wolf standing atop a crescent moon.

“I’m not a killer,” I said, taking a step back. “I don’t want power. I never asked for this.” But deep inside, a flicker stirred—a memory, or maybe something older than memory. It pulsed in my chest like heat rising through my veins, steady and slow like embers waiting for wind.

“No,” Angela said, closing the book. “But power doesn’t wait for permission, Selena. And neither do prophecies.”

A knock on the door cut through the air like a blade. Angela went still. I felt it too—something behind that door wasn’t just a person. It was a presence. Heavy, ancient, watching. The air grew colder, despite the fire still glowing in the hearth. Then another knock, slower this time. More deliberate.

“Who would know we’re here?” I asked, backing away instinctively.

Angela shook her head and reached for the drawer beneath the scroll table. From it, she withdrew a dagger with runes carved along the hilt. “Stay behind me,” she whispered.

But it was too late. The door swung open on its own, the wood creaking as if protesting the intrusion. A man stepped inside, tall and draped in a midnight cloak, the edges of his hood concealing most of his face. Yet I felt his gaze settle on me like frostbite.

“She’s awakened,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “The flame remembers.”

Angela stepped forward, the dagger raised, her body tense like a coiled spring. “You’re not welcome here, Thorne.”

He smiled, slow and cruel, pulling back his hood to reveal eyes as silver as a storm. “And yet, here I am.” His gaze returned to me. “Selena of the First Flame… You’ve been kept from us long enough.”

I took another step back, my breath shallow. “What do you want from me?” “Not want,” he said. “Need.”

Angela moved between us. “The Council banned your kind. You swore never to cross into Dark Hollow territory again.”

Thorne’s smirk didn’t waver. “And yet your Alpha broke the oldest law of all—he rejected the Flame.” His tone turned sharp, cruel. “Did he think there would be no consequence?”

The scroll behind me curled as if caught in a sudden gust, the candle flames flickering violently. My name burned brighter than before, heat licking up from the parchment as though reacting to his words. I looked down at my hands and saw it again—that golden glow beneath my skin, faint but alive.

“What consequence?” I asked, though part of me already feared the answer.

Thorne turned toward the firelight, lifting one gloved hand. “The world remembers what it fears. And when it fears enough… it kills.”

Angela hissed. “Not this time. Not her.” Thorne’s silver eyes met mine again. “Then tell her the truth before it’s too late.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he stepped back into the shadows. The door slammed shut on its own, sending dust falling from the rafters. Silence fell, but it wasn’t peace—it was the hush before a storm.

Angela turned to me slowly, her face pale. “There’s something you need to see. Something Damian kept locked away since the day you were born.”

I followed her through a narrow hallway to a trapdoor hidden beneath a rug. She lifted it, revealing stone steps that spiraled downward into darkness. My heart pounded, louder than the creak of each stair beneath our feet. The air grew colder with every step, laced with something sharp and ancient.

“What’s down here?” I asked, my voice echoing off stone. Angela lit a torch and held it out in front of us. “The truth, Selena. The kind that changes everything.”

The final step opened into a chamber lined with old stone and glowing glyphs that pulsed faintly in gold. At the center was a pedestal—and on it, a sealed box, marked with the same burning wolf I had seen in the book. My hands trembled as I reached for it, but something inside me—something older than fear—whispered that this wasn’t just a memory.

It was a warning. And when I opened that box, what would I become?