Chapter 120: The Bloodbound’s Warning

The war room was quiet—so quiet that the whisper of magic from the crystal orb sounded deafening.

Serena’s fingers clenched around the edge of the stone table as Elias’s face flickered again in the vision. His cheek was smeared with dried blood, his lip cut, but his eyes were focused. Unyielding.

“She’s calling herself Velda,” Elias said. “The Bloodbound. She commands the rogue packs like they’re puppets. Mind-bound. Enslaved.”

Serena’s mind raced. “A Bloodbound witch… those were outlawed generations ago. I thought the covens wiped them out.”

“Not all of them,” Kai muttered darkly behind her. “Some fled to the Deadlands. Practicing forbidden blood rites.”

Theron leaned forward, arms crossed. “And now one of them has returned. Why now?”

Serena stared into the orb, her heart hammering. “Because she wants me.”

Elias nodded slowly from the other side of the magic. “She said your name, Serena. Not just your title. Your name. She knew you were coming—said she’d dreamed it in blood. Said your reign would mark the fall of the old order.”

Serena swallowed hard. Her palms had gone cold.

“Did she say where she was?” she asked.

“No. But she left this behind.” Elias moved aside, and the image inside the orb shifted, revealing a crudely carved totem staked into the forest floor—a black wolf with red stone eyes, and beneath it, a symbol Serena hadn’t seen since she was a child: a sun pierced by three thorns.

Her breath caught.

Theron’s head snapped up. “That’s the mark of the Hollowborn.”

Kai cursed under his breath. “The cult that tried to destroy the High Council. But they were wiped out.”

“Or so we thought,” Serena murmured.

The symbol swam before her eyes like a phantom. She remembered the stories her mother used to whisper when she was young—about witches who drank the blood of wolves to steal their power. About a leader who called herself Velda of the Hollowborn.

Now it was more than a story. It was a warning.

Serena turned to the others. “We can’t wait for her to strike. She’s daring me to come after her.”

Theron frowned. “Which is exactly why we shouldn’t. It’s a trap.”

“Then we’ll spring it on our terms,” Serena said. “She wants to challenge me? Fine. I’ll answer. But not alone.”

Her voice hardened. “Prepare the generals. We ride at dawn.”

Later that night…

Serena stood in the great hall, watching the moonlight spill through the tall windows. Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the map spread out before her. The plans were clear: two flanks would cut through the southern woods, one to sweep west toward the river bend where Elias last spotted the rogue activity. The central force—her own—would move directly toward the Hollowborn ruins.

She felt him approach before she heard his footsteps.

Elias entered quietly, his body bruised, but whole. His presence steadied her.

“You should be resting,” she said without looking up.

“So should you.”

They were quiet for a moment before Serena spoke again.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” she asked. “The witch?”

He nodded slowly. “Briefly. She’s powerful, Serena. Not just in magic. She’s... ancient. She knew things about me she shouldn’t have.”

“About you?”

“She called me a ghost bound to a flame,” he said, frowning. “Said I’d die for a queen who couldn’t save herself.”

Serena’s jaw tightened. “She’s trying to scare us.”

“She might succeed.”

She looked up at him finally, her eyes sharp. “Do you think I can’t win this?”

He stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. “I think you were never meant to fight this alone.”

Serena’s defenses cracked just enough to let the truth in. “I’m scared, Elias. Not of dying—but of losing control. Of failing everyone who believes in me.”

He cupped her face gently. “You won’t fail. You’re not the same girl you were when this began. You’re stronger. Smarter. Fiercer.”

“And more tired,” she whispered.

Elias smiled faintly. “Then let me carry the weight for a little while.”

Her lips parted—but instead of answering, she leaned into him. Let herself fall into his arms for just a moment. Just long enough to breathe.

At dawn…

The fortress came alive with the sound of hooves and armor. Warriors lined the stone courtyard, banners lifted high. The sun cracked over the horizon like a blade splitting darkness. And at the front of the line, Serena stood tall in her battle armor—dark silver with accents of midnight blue, the crest of her bloodline gleaming across her chest.

Elias rode beside her, his expression unreadable, but his grip on the reins steady. Theron and Kai flanked her left and right. Behind them, hundreds of loyal wolves—both born and turned—waited for her signal.

The gates groaned open.

“Ride fast. Ride true,” Serena called out. “This war ends on our terms.”

And with that, the Queen of Wolves rode into the mist, toward the Hollowborn’s lair—and the storm waiting beyond.