Chapter 103: Into the Wolf’s Den

The night air was biting as Serena and Theron moved through the secret tunnels beneath the palace—a network of stone corridors carved centuries ago by royals who preferred not to be seen coming and going. The old passageways smelled of dust, earth, and forgotten history. Their footsteps echoed against the stone walls as torchlight flickered behind them.

Theron walked slightly ahead, his eyes shifting from gold to silver and back again—a sign his senses were heightened, his wolf barely beneath the surface.

“You sure about this?” he asked, voice low.

“No,” Serena admitted. “But staying behind a wall waiting to be killed isn’t exactly a better option.”

He glanced back at her. “You should be resting. You haven’t slept in two days.”

Serena rolled her eyes. “And what—sleep while the Forsaken brand threats into my chambers?”

He didn’t argue again. He knew she wouldn’t back down. That was one of the many reasons he followed her into fire.

They reached the hidden exit beneath the royal stables, an iron door engraved with sigils of the moon goddess. Theron muttered a spell under his breath, and the door creaked open, revealing the forest beyond.

Outside, the moonlight sliced through the dense canopy. Crickets chirped in the shadows. But the calm was deceptive—Serena could feel it. The forest was holding its breath.

“Where are we going?” Theron asked.

“North sector,” Serena said. “The old witch camp was burned down months ago—but I heard rumors someone’s been rebuilding it. Someone powerful.”

Theron’s eyes narrowed. “A witch working with the Forsaken?”

“Or worse—one of the Forsaken reborn.”

They didn’t speak much after that. Just moved quickly through the night. Shadows danced around them, and every rustle of leaves made Serena’s heart beat faster. Her dagger was gripped tightly in her palm, her senses humming.

By the time they reached the clearing where the witch camp once stood, the moon was high. But instead of ruins, they found structures—new ones. Dark tents made of ash-stained leather. Bone-charmed lanterns hanging from crooked poles. Something was very wrong here.

Theron crouched beside a sigil carved into the dirt near the camp perimeter. His face darkened.

“This isn’t protection magic,” he murmured. “It’s warding. To keep others out... or something in.”

Serena’s eyes scanned the camp. Movement—barely visible—shimmered at the far edge. A figure. Hooded. Watching them.

She didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, voice strong. “I know you see me. Come out.”

Silence.

Then… the hooded figure stepped forward. Slowly. Purposefully.

When the face came into view, Serena froze.

“Rhea,” she breathed.

The woman—her once-mentor, her former protector—was supposed to be dead. Burned during the last Forsaken uprising. Yet here she stood, face untouched by time, eyes dark as night.

“Serena,” Rhea said softly. “I was wondering when you’d find me.”

Theron stepped forward, protective. “What is this? You’re supposed to be gone.”

“I was,” Rhea said, her tone almost gentle. “And yet—here I am. Some debts to the moon don’t end in death.”

Serena’s voice was hoarse. “You were the one who taught me to fight them.”

“And now I will teach you what comes next,” Rhea said. “The Forsaken are not your enemy, Serena. Not entirely.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means everything you’ve been told is a half-truth. A story spun by those who feared the old power. The Forsaken weren’t born evil. They were made. By kings who wanted obedience. By Queens who were afraid of prophecy.”

Serena blinked. “Prophecy?”

Rhea nodded. “You were never meant to rule by peace. You were meant to rule by balance. Light and dark. Wolf and flame. But someone’s been twisting your path.”

Theron growled. “And you expect us to believe this sudden return, this speech? After threatening her life?”

“I didn’t,” Rhea said calmly. “I protected it. That mark wasn’t from me.”

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a second parchment—almost identical to the first. But this one bled gold ink.

“The rightful Luna rises under fire.”

Serena stepped closer, heart hammering.

“You were meant to find that first,” Rhea whispered. “But the message was intercepted. Someone wants you to fear your own power.”

“Who?” Serena asked. “Who would want that?”

Rhea hesitated. Then she said the name that made Serena’s blood chill.

“Elias.”

Serena took a step back.

“No. No, Elias has been at my side for years. He’s fought for me. Bled for me.”

“Exactly,” Rhea said. “And now he’s close enough to poison you from within.”

Theron was already shaking his head. “That’s impossible. Elias wouldn’t betray her.”

Rhea looked pained. “I taught you both. I loved you both. But Elias… he was always drawn to legacy over truth. He doesn’t want peace. He wants a kingdom ruled by fear, cloaked in your name.”

Serena’s fists clenched. Her world was spinning again, and she hated it.

“Then why come now?” she asked. “Why show yourself at all?”

“Because you need to choose,” Rhea said simply. “Not between good and evil. But between blind loyalty and truth. The Forsaken are rising, yes. But not all of them serve darkness. Some serve the balance. The same balance your blood was born to protect.”

A crack sounded behind them.

Theron whipped around. His blade was out in seconds.

“Run,” Rhea said.

“What—”

“NOW!”

Explosions of black smoke erupted around the clearing as masked figures emerged—blades glinting, magic swirling at their fingers.

The real Forsaken had arrived.

Rhea pushed Serena backward and threw a warding shield between them.

“I’ll hold them!” she yelled. “Get out!”

Theron grabbed Serena’s wrist. “We have to go!”

Serena didn’t want to leave. Not again. But the fire in Rhea’s eyes told her this was no longer about one battle.

It was about survival—for now.

She ran.