THE KING WHO NEVER DIED

CHAPTER 17

THE KING WHO NEVER DIED

THE KING LIVES STILL.

The words remained on the communication device.

Nobody spoke.

Alaric was on his knees, staring at the message as though he had just seen a ghost.

Kael slowly approached him.

“My grandfather is dead.”

Alaric shook his head.

“No, Alpha.”

Kael's expression hardened.

“Choose your next words carefully.”

“I was there when they buried him.”

“Then explain how a dead man just sent us a message.”

Alaric raised his trembling eyes.

“Because the body in that grave was never King Theron.”

A heavy silence descended.

Lyra looked at the old guardian.

“What are you saying?”

Alaric struggled to stand.

“Twenty-two years ago, when your mother discovered the truth about the Blood Oath, she also discovered that King Theron had found a way to preserve his life beyond the natural limits of a werewolf.”

Ronan frowned.

“That's impossible. Even the strongest Alpha eventually dies.”

“Not if he has access to the First Luna's blood.”

Lyra's stomach tightened.

“My mother's blood?”

Alaric nodded.

“Theron had been experimenting with forbidden rituals long before Elara's death. He believed the First Luna's power could make him immortal.”

Kael looked towards the broken throne.

“And the Hollow King?”

“The Hollow King was the source of the power he needed.”

Mira stepped closer.

“Then why was Theron hiding?”

Alaric's face darkened.

“Because the ritual failed. His body could not contain the power. He disappeared beneath the castle, and the council was told he had died.”

Kael's hands curled into fists.

“My father knew?”

Alaric lowered his eyes.

“Your father tried to stop him.”

Kael went still.

“What?”

“King Theron wanted to use his own son as the next vessel. Your father discovered the plan and attempted to destroy the Blood Oath.”

A terrible understanding began to form in Kael's expression.

“That was why my father died.”

Alaric nodded.

“He sacrificed himself to keep the ritual from being completed.”

Kael turned away.

For years, he had believed his father had died because he was too weak to rule.

Selene had told him that weakness had destroyed their family.

She had made him believe that power was the only thing that could keep him alive.

Now he understood that his father had not been weak.

He had been trying to save him.

---

“Why would Theron contact Lucian?” Lyra asked.

Alaric looked towards her brother.

“Because Lucian is the second heir.”

Lucian's expression remained guarded.

“And what does that make me?”

“The final piece of the ritual.”

Lucian laughed without humour.

“Everyone keeps telling me what I am supposed to be. Nobody seems interested in what I actually want.”

Lyra looked at him.

“Then tell us. What do you want?”

He met her eyes.

“I want the throne.”

The words landed heavily.

Kael immediately reached for his weapon.

Ronan stepped between them.

“Careful.”

Lyra raised a hand.

“Let him speak.”

Lucian looked at the ancient throne.

“Our mother was murdered. Our family was destroyed. I spent my entire life being told that we had been robbed of our inheritance. I want to know why we were forced to live like strangers while the people responsible enjoyed everything that belonged to us.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“I want justice.”

Lyra understood that feeling.

She had spent her entire life wondering why she was unwanted.

But justice and revenge were not the same thing.

“And if claiming the throne requires sacrificing someone?” she asked.

Lucian looked away.

“I won't sacrifice you.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

He said nothing.

Kael moved closer.

“Your grandfather is using you.”

Lucian's eyes flashed.

“And your family hasn't been using everyone for generations?”

Kael accepted the accusation without defending himself.

“You're right. My family has done terrible things. But if you continue down this path without understanding what you're carrying, you'll become another weapon in their hands.”

Lucian's expression hardened.

“You don't get to lecture me about becoming a weapon.”

Lyra stepped between them.

“Enough. We need to find Theron before he completes whatever ritual he's planning.”

Alaric nodded.

“There may be a way.”

Everyone turned towards him.

“Beneath the northern tower is an entrance to the original royal crypt. Your mother discovered it before the sanctuary was attacked. If Theron is alive, that is where he will be hiding.”

Ronan frowned.

“Why didn't you tell us before?”

“Because I believed the entrance had been destroyed.”

“Believed?” Kael asked.

Alaric swallowed.

“I never returned to check.”

Lyra looked towards the darkened chamber.

“Then we go there.”

Kael shook his head.

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“The castle is no longer secure. We need to gather our people first.”

“Every moment we waste gives Theron more time.”

“And walking into an unknown chamber with half our strength could get you killed.”

Lyra stepped closer.

“You don't get to decide what risks I take.”

“I am not trying to control you.”

“Then stop treating me like someone who needs your permission.”

Kael held her gaze.

After a moment, he nodded.

“Fine. We go together.”

It was the first time he had agreed without trying to command her.

Lyra turned away before he could see the uncertainty in her expression.

---

They reached the northern tower shortly before midnight.

The castle corridors were almost deserted.

Most of the warriors had either fled or pledged allegiance to the new council.

Ronan led the way, followed by Mira and Alaric.

Kael walked beside Lyra.

Lucian remained behind them.

The entrance to the crypt was hidden beneath an enormous stone statue of the first Alpha.

Alaric pressed his staff against a small crescent symbol.

A grinding sound followed.

The statue moved.

Behind it was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

Cold air rushed upwards.

Lyra's pendant began to glow.

“It's responding to something,” she whispered.

Alaric nodded.

“The original royal bloodline built this passage. Only an heir can open the inner door.”

Lyra placed her hand against the stone.

The entrance opened.

Beyond it lay a long corridor lined with ancient paintings.

At the far end stood a massive black door.

Kael examined the symbols carved into its surface.

“This is Draven writing.”

Alaric shook his head.

“No. It's older.”

Lyra approached the door.

Her fingers brushed a line of silver writing.

A voice entered her mind.

The first child opens the way.

She turned towards Lucian.

“Come here.”

Lucian approached cautiously.

Together, they placed their hands against the door.

The symbols illuminated.

A loud click echoed through the passage.

The door slowly opened.

Inside was a circular chamber.

At its centre stood a glass coffin.

And inside the coffin lay an elderly man wearing a golden crown.

His face was pale.

His eyes were closed.

But the moment Lyra entered, they opened.

Silver.

Exactly like hers.

“Welcome home,” the man whispered.

Alaric dropped to his knees.

“Your Majesty.”

Kael raised his weapon.

“Theron.”

The old king smiled.

“My grandson.”

Then he looked at Lyra.

“And the little girl who should have died with her mother.”

Lyra's blood turned cold.

“You murdered her.”

Theron slowly sat up inside the coffin.

“Your mother made a choice.”

“She chose to protect her children.”

“She chose to defy her king.”

Lyra stepped forward.

“And you killed her for it.”

Theron smiled faintly.

“Not quite.”

The chamber fell silent.

Kael's weapon lowered slightly.

“What do you mean?”

Theron looked directly at Lyra.

“Your mother was not killed by my hand.”

Alaric's face went white.

“Your Majesty…”

Theron raised one finger.

“Tell them, Alaric.”

The old guardian began trembling.

Lyra turned towards him.

“What is he talking about?”

Theron leaned back.

“Ask the man who carried your mother out of the sanctuary.”

Alaric covered his face.

“No…”

Lyra's voice became dangerously quiet.

“Alaric. What did you do?”

The old man finally looked at her.

And the truth he had hidden for twenty-two years came out.

“I was the one who delivered the final blow.”

Lyra stopped breathing.

Kael moved towards Alaric.

Ronan raised his blade.

But before anyone could react, Theron laughed.

“Now you understand, little Queen. Everyone who claims to love you has blood on their hands.”

He lifted his palm.

A black symbol appeared across it.

“And now that both heirs have returned, the final ritual can begin.”

The coffin shattered.

Theron stepped out.

His body was no longer that of an old man.

Black scales spread across his neck.

His eyes burned red.

And beneath his golden crown, two twisted horns began to emerge.

Lyra stepped backwards.

The ancient voice inside her blood whispered one final warning.

Do not let him touch your brother.

Theron smiled at Lucian.

“Come, my son.”

Lucian froze.

Then, slowly, he stepped towards the king.

“Lucian!” Lyra screamed.

He did not stop.

Theron extended his hand.

And Lucian took it.