The Lycan king’s Purple Flame

“This is an official border-state broadcast from the Oakhaven Department of Civil Safety.”

“Due to severe, unpredicted atmospheric drops and localized climate volatility along the eastern frontier, a dawn-to-dusk curfew is now in effect for all sectors bordering the sovereign nation of Vrykania. Citizens are advised to remain indoors, secure their properties, and suspend all unauthorized cross-border travel until further notice.”

The anchor’s monotone voice droned from the television, but Rhiannon barely heard a word.

She lay sprawled across the oversized velvet bed, her fingers pressed over her heart as another sharp ache bloomed beneath her ribs.

It stole the air from her lungs. Black spots swam across her vision.

‘God… not tonight.’

She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe through the pain.

One year.

That was all the doctors had given her before her failing heart finally gave out.

Lately, the countdown felt louder with every passing day.

Sleep had become almost impossible. Even turning over in bed left her exhausted.

The elegant guest room Talia had prepared for her suddenly felt too warm, the walls closing in around her.

‘My bucket list was to see the beautiful country of Vrykania… not die in it.’

With visible effort, she pushed herself upright and swung her trembling legs over the edge of the bed.

Cold sweat clung to her skin.

‘Maybe some fresh air will help.’

She slipped through the towering glass doors into the private courtyard.

The night air bit at her bare arms, but she welcomed the cold.

Leaning against a marble pillar, she tilted her head back and drew in a slow, shaky breath. Then she looked up.

Her breath caught.

The moon hanging above the dark Vrykanian mountains wasn’t silver.

It glowed a brilliant, bleeding shade of pink.

Crimson light spilled across the manicured hedges and marble statues, bathing the courtyard in an eerie glow.

“Rhiannon!”

The sharp whisper made her flinch.

Talia hurried from the shadows of the stone pavilion, her emerald eyes wide with alarm as she caught Rhiannon by the shoulders.

“What are you doing out here?” she hissed. “Are you trying to get caught? I told you we had to stay in the guest wing. Vrykania’s travel laws are strict enough, but tonight—”

“I couldn’t breathe, Talia.”

Rhiannon gently pulled free and pressed a hand against her aching chest.

She forced a weak smile.

“And what’s with that ridiculous news broadcast?” She glanced toward the sky. “Since when does bad weather turn the moon pink?”

Talia didn’t answer.

She stared at the moon, and every trace of color drained from her face.

Inside her mind, Lyra let out a low, frightened whine.

‘Danger.’

A chill crept down Talia’s spine.

“It’s not a weather anomaly,” she whispered.

Her gaze snapped back to Rhiannon. “We have to go inside. Now.”

Rhiannon frowned.

“What? Why?”

Lyra was pacing frantically now, panic rippling through every instinct they shared.

“We need to leave,” Talia said, her voice trembling. “Right now.”

Before Rhiannon could protest—

CLANG!

The deafening shriek of snapping iron chains ripped through the night.

The sound rolled across the estate, vibrating beneath their feet.

Talia’s breath hitched.

Lyra lowered herself with a terrified whimper.

“Oh, Goddess…” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “He broke containment.”

Rhiannon brows furrowed. “Who broke containment?”

“The Berserk phase…” Talia murmured, horror filling her eyes. “…it came early.”

“Talia, you’re not making any sense. Who are you talking about?”

“Run!”

The scream tore from Talia’s throat as she shoved Rhiannon toward the glass doors.

“Go back to your room! Lock the door! Whatever happens—don’t look back!”

Without waiting for an answer, Talia sprinted into the darkness, deliberately drawing whatever was coming away from her friend.

“Talia!”

Rhiannon’s heart lurched. “What’s happening?”

She turned toward the estate, but her weakened legs betrayed her.

She stumbled, crashing onto the neatly trimmed grass.

“Damn it…”

The air suddenly changed.

An unbearable pressure settled over the courtyard, crushing the breath from her lungs.

The hedges lining the perimeter didn’t rustle. They exploded.

A massive shadow burst through the shattered hedge, moving with a speed that defied human comprehension.

Rhiannon froze.

A man stepped into the crimson glow of the pink moon.

He was magnificent. And utterly terrifying.

He wore no shirt. Intricate black tattoos coiled across his broad chest and disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. Gold-violet lightning flickered beneath his skin, illuminating muscles drawn taut with pain.

His breathing was ragged.

His jaw clenched as though he were fighting something inside himself.

Rhiannon scrambled backward until her spine slammed against the base of a marble statue.

“Stay back…” The words struggled to leave her lips.

His head snapped toward her.

The instant their eyes met, the howling wind sweeping through the courtyard died.

Silence fell.

Inside Theron’s fractured mind, the beast that had torn through iron chains only moments before fell eerily still.

Acheron dropped to one knee.

‘Mate.’

‘Found.’

Theron’s nostrils flared.

His gaze locked onto the woman trembling before him. Then he saw the small crescent-shaped mole resting against the left side of her neck.

The black serpent tattoo coiled around his neck blazed to life, glowing a violent crimson.

“Savior…”

The word emerged as a growl, vibrating through the stillness.

Before Rhiannon could react—

He vanished.

A wave of heat crashed into her as his body slammed her onto the grass.

The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.

His hands closed around her wrists, pinning them above her head with effortless strength.

She couldn’t move.

The scent of frost, rain-soaked pine, and wild earth surrounded her.

Theron hovered above her, barely an inch away.

His obsidian eyes burned with streaks of violet and gold, stripped of every trace of reason.

His gaze drifted back to the crescent-shaped mole.

“I found you…” His voice cracked with something between relief and desperation. “Zillah.”

“Let me go!”

Tears blurred Rhiannon’s vision as she struggled beneath him.

It was useless. He didn’t move or loosen his grip. He didn’t even seem to notice she was fighting.

Theron lowered his head. He inhaled once against her neck.

A low, possessive rumble rolled through his chest. His fangs slid into view.

Slowly, he tilted his head toward her exposed throat.

Rhiannon’s eyes widened. Every instinct screamed that she was about to die.

Pain exploded through her chest. The surge of terror was simply more than her failing heart could endure.

Her heartbeat stumbled, then simply… stopped. The light faded from her hazel eyes, and her body went limp beneath him.

Theron froze. His grip loosened instantly.

Then a voice split the night. “Bellamy, stop him! That’s my sister!”