Chapter 007

Sienna's POV

The air here didn't belong to the living. It lacked the scent of damp moss or the metallic bite of the cellar. It tasted of ancient dust and ozone, like the heavy, electric stillness right before a mountain storm breaks. I choked on the thickness of it, my lungs burning as they struggled to process the atmosphere.

My eyelids finally flickered open. I wasn’t in the cellar.

I stood in a vast, silver void that seemed to bleed into the edges of eternity. My heart hammered against my ribs—an erratic, hollow rhythm that felt far too large for my narrow chest. Before me, a ladder of shimmering light crystallized out of the gray haze. Each step vibrated with a low, humming power that resonated in the very marrow of my bones.

Am I dead?

The silence swallowed the words. I wasn't dead. Death would be quieter than this. Death wouldn't feel like a live wire was pressed against my spine.

A sharp cramp twisted my stomach, a reminder of the day I’d spent without a single crust of bread. The hunger was a dull roar now. It competed with the flashes of the coronation that played on the back of my eyelids like a broken film. The betrayal. The way the light in Lucas’s eyes had simply gone out when he looked at me, replaced by a clinical, hollow distance.

I moved toward the glowing dais at the top of the ladder. Every step felt like walking through deep water.

There you are.

The voice was a deep resonance. It didn't come from the air; it came from the floor beneath my bare feet. I spun around.

A massive white wolf emerged from the silver mist. Her fur was a thick mane of ivory, shimmering as if woven from moonlight. Her eyes were two glowing crystals of pure, ancient power. She was a dominant force, a shadow of an alpha that made the air feel pressurized. I stumbled back. My breath caught in a throat that felt lined with glass.

On my eighteenth birthday, my wolf had been a small, flickering thing. A shadow that hid in the corners of my mind. This was something else. This was a titan.

"Are you mine?" I rasped. "The one who has been hiding while they bled me dry." The wolf didn't move, but her gaze shifted toward the infinite sky. You are brittle, Sienna. You carry a tide of power that would drown a lesser soul. To use me is to invite a pain you aren't yet ready to navigate. You seek justice, but you are still holding onto the ghost of a man who has already buried you.

"The Moon Goddess has a cruel sense of humor, then." I mocked. "She gives me a god and leaves me in a cage."

The Goddess does not choose the shallow. The wolf countered. Her voice sounded like grinding stones. You are the last of the Millennium line. A warrior in a servant's skin. You look at your chains, but you have forgotten you are the one who holds the key. Your true mate is already drawing breath in your territory. He is the fire to your ice. Do not let this pack extinguish you before he arrives.

The moon mark on my hand flared with a blinding, silver light. The vibration traveled up my arm, rattling my teeth. The world began to tilt. The silver void bled into the greasy darkness of reality.

The smell hit me first. Mildew. Old webs. The copper tang of my own dried blood. The door to the cellar groaned open, hitting the stone wall with a crack.

"Still dreaming. The new Luna expects a full court today." A servant kicked the edge of my cot. Her eyes narrowed as I sat up.

I didn't snap back. I didn't even look at her with anger. I simply watched the way the dust motes danced in the sliver of light from the hallway. Everything felt slow. The maid’s heartbeat sounded like a frantic drum in a distant room.

"The Blood Moon Pack arrives today." She snapped, tossing a bundle of coarse gray fabric at me. "Be at the kitchens in ten minutes."

I caught the clothes in mid-air. The movement was effortless. I simply looked at her and let a slow, calm smile spread across my face.

"Thank you."

The maid froze. The fear in her eyes wasn't because I was scary. It was because I was calm. She scrambled out of the room as if she had seen a ghost that had finally decided to haunt her.

I changed slowly. I savored the grit of the wool against my skin. It reminded me I was still tethered to the earth. In the cracked mirror, I looked the same. Brown eyes. Tangled hair. But the fire behind my pupils was a new color. It was the silver of the void.

I stepped into the corridor. My fingers brushed the rough stone walls. I could feel the pack house humming—a thousand different pulses all beating at once. It was overwhelming, yet perfectly clear.

"There’s my dear sister."

Ivy waited at the turn of the hallway. She was a vision in blood-red silk. Her perfume was a cloying cloud of expensive roses that tried to mask the rot of her malice. She drifted toward me, her eyes raking over my servant’s rags.

As she got closer, I saw the tremor in her hands. She wasn't just angry. She was terrified that the crown didn't fit. She was playing a part, and she knew I was the only one who could see the cracks in her mask.

"You look exhausted, Sienna." Ivy giggled, though the sound was brittle. "But get used to the weight. You’re a lowly omega now. Do you understand?"

I didn't flinch. I turned my head slowly, following her movement with a predatory steadiness that made her step back. "Is that what Lucas told you? Or is that what you tell yourself when you realize he’s still looking for me in every room?"

Ivy’s smile vanished. Her breath hitched. I saw the muscles in her jaw lock so hard a tiny bead of blood appeared at the corner of her mouth. She hated that I wasn't crying.

I stepped past her. My shoulder brushed hers, a deliberate act of defiance.

A hand caught my hair, yanking me backward. Ivy stepped into my space, her face a mask of loathing that was starting to look more like desperation.

"You think you’re still a threat," she hissed. "I hate you. Your cursed mother took my brother’s glory, and you think you can just walk past me."

"Don't speak about my mother, Ivy." I said. My voice was a steady, absolute low. "The status you stole doesn't make you a Luna. It makes you a thief in a red dress."

Ivy snatched a pair of sharp shears from a passing maid’s tray. In a blurred motion, she sliced the front of her own expensive gown. The red silk tore with a jagged, ugly scream. She looked at me, a terrifyingly cold thought flashing in her eyes.

You don't belong here?

Then she screamed. "No! Sienna, stop!"

A heavy slap landed across my face. I tasted copper instantly. I didn't recoil. I didn't cry out. I slowly turned my head back to look at her, my eyes cold and vacant.

"Sienna!"

Lucas was there. He seized my wrist in a grip that threatened to snap the bone. His eyes were frantic, darting between Ivy’s torn dress and my bloody lip. He wasn't just angry. He was an Alpha whose world was slipping out of his control. He needed to be the "Just Alpha" for the servants watching from the shadows. He needed to believe I was the problem so he didn't have to look at himself.

"You really think the rules don't apply to you." Lucas’s voice boomed.

"You really think I’m the one holding the shears, Lucas." I met his eyes. I let him see the silver flickering in the brown. "Are you that desperate to believe the lie?"

"She’s out of control, Lucas!" Ivy wailed.

Lucas’s face darkened. He looked at the elders approaching the end of the hall. He looked at his future, then he looked at me—the one person who knew he was a coward. He had to break me to keep the lie alive.

He struck me.

It wasn't a slap. It was a heavy, backhanded blow fueled by his own shame. It sent me flying against the stone wall. My head cracked against the masonry with a sickening thud. Blood trickled into my eye, hot and sticky.

"I, Sienna, didn't_"

Lucas took a step forward. The guilt was there, but it was useless. It was a currency he spent every day to buy his own peace of mind. I didn't look at him with pain. I looked at him with pity.

"Don't," I whispered. "It's embarrassing, Lucas."

The words hit him harder than the blow. He froze, his hand trembling in mid-air. I scrambled up, my legs shaking, and walked toward the kitchens. I didn't run. I walked.

I buried my face in my hands in the pantry, trying to breathe through the nausea. When I finally looked up, I saw them through the service window.

In the shadows of the courtyard, Morrigan stood with a maid. Her face was a mask of calm, but her movements were hurried. She was handing over a small, dark vial. A strange, invisible pressure blocked my hearing—pack magic.

I stood, grabbing a tray of food. I had to see where that vial went.

The ceremony was in full swing when I entered the hall. Ivy sat next to Lucas. She had already changed into a fresh gown, white this time, looking like a saint who had forgiven her "troubled" sister.

"The Blood Moon Pack is arriving." Morrigan said as she glided past me. "Ensure the wine is ready."

I looked toward the high table. The maid I had seen with Morrigan was leaning over Lucas's glass. A single, dark drop fell from her fingers into the deep red liquid.

Lucas reached for it. He was distracted, laughing at a joke. He looked like a man who had finally silenced the noise in his head.

I wanted to scream. But then I remembered the stone wall. I remembered the red dress. I remembered the pity in my own voice.

I stayed frozen as he lifted the silver chalice to his lips. He took a long, deep sip. The liquid, shimmering like a dark secret, disappeared down his throat.

Lucas set the glass down, a small frown creasing his forehead. He rubbed at his chest, a momentary look of confusion crossing his face before he forced the smile back on.

The poison was in. The clock had started. And for the first time, I didn't feel the urge to save him.