Chapter 76: The Price of Her Blood

Pain returned first.

A dull, throbbing ache that pulsed through Serena’s skull like a war drum. Then came the chill—cold stone beneath her back, damp air clinging to her skin. She blinked, struggling to focus. The room swam in and out of clarity.

Chains.

She was bound.

Thick iron cuffs circled her wrists, carved with old runes. Her wolf stirred inside her, snarling, but couldn’t rise. The poison hadn’t worn off yet. Whatever they had used, it had been laced with something ancient—designed to suppress shifting and magic alike.

The room was dimly lit by torchlight. Stone walls, no windows. A dungeon, perhaps underground. She tried to sit, but her limbs trembled.

Then the door creaked open.

Two guards entered—both Ironfangs, dressed in black leathers and bearing the mark of the Crescent Skull on their chests. But they weren’t alone.

A man followed behind them.

He moved with grace that didn’t belong to warriors. His robes were long, his face hooded. But when he removed the cowl, Serena gasped.

His eyes glowed violet.

“You,” she rasped.

The man smiled. “You know me?”

“Only in nightmares.”

“Ah. Then the stories were true.”

He stepped closer. His aura crackled with restrained power. “My name is Zevrin. High Seer of the Crimson Circle. And you, Serena of the Lost Bloodline, are very special to us.”

She glared. “You poisoned me.”

“Only enough to keep your wolf quiet. For now.”

Zevrin crouched in front of her, inspecting her like a relic.

“You carry something rare in your veins. Not just the blood of Alpha kings, but the remnants of the Moon's Blessing. The last true mark of the First Pack. And that—” he brushed a finger across the chain sealing her magic “—makes you valuable.”

“I’m not for sale,” Serena growled.

“Oh no, my dear. You’re not for sale. You’re for sacrifice.”

Her heart skipped.

Zevrin smiled like a snake. “The Ironfangs have never wanted peace. Their goal has always been ascension—breaking the boundary between the realms. You are the key. Your blood, your power... it’s the last piece of a very old ritual.”

Serena’s mind reeled. “You want to use me to break the Veil?”

He nodded. “The boundary that separates the mortal world from the Forgotten Realm has grown weak. But only someone born under the Eclipse, bearing the moon’s fire and the alpha’s mark, can tear it open.”

She shook her head. “If you break the Veil, it won’t just be the spirits that return. It’ll be monsters. Things even you can’t control.”

Zevrin’s expression darkened. “That’s the point.”

He stood. “You’ll be prepared at dawn. The ritual begins at moonrise.”

Then he left.

The door slammed shut, leaving her in darkness once again.

Meanwhile…

Elias paced furiously at the cliff’s edge, blood staining his shirt, one hand clenched around his sword. Theron stood nearby, also wounded, his jaw tight.

“She should’ve been back by now,” Elias growled.

“She knew the risk,” Theron said. “You both did.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t burn every Ironfang camp to the ground to get her back.”

There was silence between them. Then Theron said, “There’s a rumor. Whispered among the rogues and spies.”

Elias turned. “What kind of rumor?”

“A Seer. Crimson Circle. Someone powerful working with the Ironfangs. They’re planning something bigger than territory. Something ancient. And they need Serena to do it.”

Elias felt his blood turn to ice. “What do they want with her?”

Theron looked grim. “Her blood.”

Back in the dungeon…

Serena struggled against the chains, fury burning through the numbness. Her wolf scratched at the edges of her mind, trying to rise, but the runes held fast.

She needed time.

She needed a way out.

But then—she heard it.

A whisper.

Soft. Familiar.

Her eyes widened. “Elias?”

Not a voice. A presence.

Their bond pulsed. Faint, but real. He was near.

She closed her eyes, focusing. Reaching for him through the mate link. It had always been there, even when they’d fought it. Now she embraced it.

Elias…

The connection flared.

Somewhere, miles away, Elias stumbled, clutching his chest.

“Serena.”

He felt her pain.

He felt her desperation.

And suddenly, his path was clear.

He would find her.

Even if he had to break into the deepest hell.

Hours later…

Serena was dragged into a massive stone chamber lit with hundreds of candles. Symbols had been painted in blood across the floor, a massive crescent drawn at the center. Zevrin stood at the altar, chanting in an old tongue.

The guards forced her to her knees, cutting the sleeves of her dress to expose her arms.

The air grew heavy.

The moon, high above through a glass dome, turned red.

Zevrin raised a blade.

Serena closed her eyes.

Elias… please.

At that moment…

A howl tore through the forest.

A howl full of rage, love, and fury.

Elias burst through the outer defenses, sword gleaming with silverfire. Behind him, a dozen loyal warriors fought like demons, cutting through Ironfang guards with precision.

He was unstoppable.

Every beat of his heart was for her.

He reached the chamber just as the blade descended—

And caught it mid-air with his bare hand.

Blood dripped down his arm, but he didn’t flinch.

Serena’s eyes flew open.

“Elias!”

The bond between them ignited, golden light swirling around them as Elias knocked Zevrin back with a blast of raw power.

Everything slowed.

Zevrin snarled, summoning dark magic.

But Elias was already there.

Steel met shadow. Wolf met corruption.

And Serena?

She felt the chains snap.

Her power surged.

Silver flames danced around her skin as she rose, fury and moonlight incarnate.

Together, they stood—Alpha and Luna.

And hell followed.