The moment the Alpha King declared that I was to remain by his side, the palace walls seemed to close in on me. Whispers followed me like shadows; servants froze mid-task when I walked by, their eyes filled with equal parts pity and intrigue. I was no longer just a rogue... I was his mate—an unwelcome truth in a kingdom carved by tradition and bloodlines.
But being by his side didn’t mean I was safe. The Council had yet to fully accept me, and though Kael had ordered their silence, the venom in Elder Barron’s gaze said more than words ever could. I wasn’t meant to survive the weight of this court. I sat in the royal gardens that evening, my hands digging absently into the dark soil of the herb bed as the moon began its rise. I longed for my pack, my freedom. Instead, I was bound to a life I hadn’t chosen, tied to a King who claimed me in words but kept his heart locked behind centuries of duty. Footsteps approached—firm, slow, and deliberate. Kael. “I told you not to wander the palace alone,” he said, his voice deeper in the quiet night air. I didn’t look up. “I’m not wandering. Just needed air.” He stood over me for a moment, then crouched beside me. His eyes caught the moonlight—silver pools of power and secrets. “You’re angry,” he said, not as a question. “I’m caged,” I replied, meeting his gaze. “And I think you like me better that way.” His jaw tightened. “That’s not true.” “Then why am I still a prisoner in your world, Kael? Why do you parade me like a claim, but hide me from your Council’s approval? You know they want me gone.” Kael exhaled slowly and reached out to brush a leaf from my tangled hair. “You think I don’t see it? The way they look at you. Like you’re dirt under their boots. Like you’re unworthy of this place… of me.” “Am I?” His eyes flared. “Don’t say that.” “You haven’t answered the question.” He stood and turned away, fists clenched. The silence between us grew heavy, suffocating. “There are politics in this court that run deeper than even I can control,” he finally said. “The moment I brought you here, I knew I was risking everything. The bloodlines. The alliances. Even my throne.” “Then why bring me at all?” I demanded, standing to face him. “Why not just reject me and be done with it like most Alphas do when their mate is inconvenient?” Kael stepped closer, his scent—pine and storm—wrapping around me. “Because I can’t reject you. Don’t you understand? From the moment I scented you, everything changed. You burn under my skin, Liana. But that doesn’t mean I can ignore what it will cost.” I swallowed hard. “So I’m a weakness?” “No,” he whispered. “You’re my war.” Suddenly, the air shifted—taut, electric. A growl rose in the distance. Kael turned sharply, body tensing. “Stay here,” he ordered. But I didn’t. I followed him as he stormed past the rose-lined path and toward the western edge of the palace grounds. There, near the training field, a group of guards had formed a tight circle around something—no, someone. A wolf. Bloodied, shaking. My breath caught in my throat. The wolf shifted, collapsing into human form—a girl, no older than sixteen, her eyes glazed and skin smeared with crimson. I recognized her. “Elena?” I gasped, running forward before Kael could stop me. She blinked up at me, weak. “Liana… run. They… they know.” “Who knows?” I knelt beside her, brushing the hair from her face. “The Shadows…” she whispered. “They’re… here.” Kael was at my side instantly, his expression darkening. “Take her to the healer. Now.” Two guards lifted her gently, but Elena's hand caught my wrist before they moved. “It wasn’t just the rogues they were after,” she rasped. “They’re coming for the throne.” And then she passed out. Kael’s gaze met mine, and for the first time since I’d arrived, I saw fear in his eyes—not for himself, but for me. Later that night, Kael stood by the window in his chambers, staring out at the moonlit forest that bordered his kingdom. I sat wrapped in one of his heavy cloaks, trying to piece together what Elena’s warning meant. “The Shadows… who are they?” I finally asked. Kael didn’t turn. “Traitors. Assassins. An old faction of wolves who were banished from every kingdom for blood crimes and rebellion. I thought they were gone.” “You thought wrong.” He sighed. “They’re clever. They’ve waited in silence for years. But if they’ve resurfaced, it means one thing—someone inside my court has invited them in.” My heart pounded. “You think there’s a traitor in your pack?” “I know there is.” “Then you have to act. Warn your warriors. Secure the council.” Kael finally turned to me. “I’ll handle it. But you must promise me something, Liana.” I hesitated. “What?” “If anything happens—if I fall, or if the kingdom turns on us—you must flee. Go to the eastern border. Find Beta Rhys. He’ll know what to do.” “I’m not leaving you,” I whispered. He crossed the room in two strides and pulled me into his arms. “You have to. You’re not just my mate. You’re the only one who can keep the truth alive.” I tilted my head. “What truth?” He looked down at me, conflicted. But before he could answer, a deep howl echoed across the sky—long, guttural, and laced with dread. Kael’s body snapped rigid. “They’re here.”They say she walked barefoot through the fire, and the flames bowed before her—not out of fear, but recognition.They say the Hollow didn’t begin with her.But it lived because of her.I wasn’t there when Serena lit her first flame.I wasn’t there when she returned from the Place Without Memory, or when she laid her title down beneath the moonroot tree.But I know her.Not from books or statues.From stories told softly over dinner, from the way people pause near the oldest stones, and from the warmth that always seems to linger in the Hollow’s quietest corners.I am the granddaughter of healers.The child of firemakers.And the apprentice of Kael’s last student.They call me Ember—not because I burn, but because I carry what’s left of a long, bright light.And sometimes, late at night, when the wind shifts and the moon hangs low, I ask myself:“What did it feel like… to carry the flame when no one believed?”On the Day of Emberfall, we light the lanterns.Each of us carries one.No f
The Hollow was alive.Not loud. Not burning.Just… alive.Like the first breath after a long, silent winter.Serena stood at the balcony of the highest Sanctum tower, her cloak billowing gently in the early breeze. Below her, lanterns glowed in gentle waves, strung from tree to tree, tower to pillar. Children laughed. Apprentices trained with wooden staffs. Flowers—yes, real flowers—bloomed in the center square.No more war cries.No more blood in the stone.Only the future.The Ledger of FlameKael returned at dawn.His hair longer. Eyes tired. But when he stepped through the gate, he carried scrolls—dozens of them—filled with names from the North who had agreed to reunite under the Hollow’s teachings.Serena embraced him fiercely.“Still fighting,” she whispered.“No,” he murmured. “Still building.”Lilith came two days later.Scarred, limping, her voice hoarser than ever—but with a grin that could melt mountains.“I found a library beyond the Silence,” she rasped. “Flamebound texts
No path marked her journey.There were no runes to guide her. No maps traced these lands. Only shadowed wind and an ever-fading warmth behind her.Serena walked without flame in her hand.Not because she lacked power.But because not every fire needed to be seen.The Place Without FlameTwo days out from the Hollow, the air began to shift.Colder.Quieter.Not the silence of peace.But of absence.As though the wind itself refused to remember.The trees grew thinner. Then pale. Then vanished.The sky dulled into endless gray.Here, even the soil felt forgotten.Serena reached into her satchel and pulled free the ember she had saved—one drawn from the central basin, a living shard of all that had come before.It flickered weakly in her palm.Then went still.She closed her fingers around it.And walked on.The Memoryless PlainBy the fourth day, Serena came to a vast plain of slate—miles of cracked, dark stone that shimmered with a sheen of quiet sorrow. It was said that this was where
There was a stillness that only came after flame.Not the stillness of silence—but of completion.The Hollow hadn’t dimmed… it had settled. Like a story told and retold until it no longer needed to shout to be remembered.Serena walked barefoot through the eastern corridor, the smooth stone grounding her as she moved past tapestries, cracked doorways, and burnt-out sconces. The basin of coals in the center square still glowed faintly, like a quiet heart continuing to beat long after battle had ceased.The fire no longer called to her.And for the first time in years…She no longer felt responsible for it.Darian’s MessageDarian waited near the Sanctum archives, his robes slightly wrinkled, hair tied back with a crimson thread, and fingers stained with soot and ink.He looked up as Serena approached, holding out a single parchment—thin, greyed, brittle at the corners.“It came from a forgotten archive,” he said. “A vault we thought was destroyed during the Ebon Siege. No rune markers.
The Hollow had never felt this quiet.Not even during the years when silence was a weapon.Now, it was a hush born of reverence.Like the world itself was holding its breath.Because the fire—the First Flame—was dimming.Not fading.Not dying.But passing.A Slow DescentSerena stood in the stone chamber deep beneath the Sanctum—the chamber only three others had ever entered before her. The last time, she had come here in fear, with Maeron’s betrayal freshly burned into her bones and Atheira’s warnings curled like a fist around her chest.This time, she descended alone, cloaked in midnight blue, the Keeper’s Orb humming gently at her side.The great fire basin stood ahead, dormant but warm—embers curling within like a memory still catching breath.As Serena approached, she whispered, “You’ve burned long enough.”She reached inside the flame—not to extinguish it.But to honor it.The fire rose, briefly, in a shimmer of gold and silver. Not to stop her.But to bless her.The Flame’s Fin
Serena stood in the twilight haze that softened the Hollow’s stone towers, her gaze lost in the horizon where the embers of the sun brushed the clouds in streaks of molten gold.She felt them all tonight—memories like ghosts brushing her skin.Not just the ones she'd inherited. But the ones she’d lived.The fire within her orb pulsed quietly, not seeking to command… but to remind.Because even ashes remembered.And tonight, so would she.The Tapestry RoomThe long-sealed Tapestry Room had been unlocked for the first time in generations.Serena walked slowly along its curved walls, each woven panel bearing the faces and flame-runes of those who had once shaped the Order. Warriors. Healers. Betrayers. Peacemakers.And in the center—a half-finished tapestry. Threads still loose. Needles resting silently in a clay dish.It had once been reserved for those who would never be remembered properly. The erased. The shamed. The unnamed.She picked up the needle.And with slow, deliberate motion