THE PRICE OF A CROWN

PATRICK POV

The subterranean corridors beneath Stormfang Fortress grew colder with every step I took down the winding spiral staircase.

Here, three levels below the obsidian hall, the warm air of the upper keep died completely, replaced by the damp, metallic stench of dripping water, ancient granite, and raw silver rust. Two elite guards stationed outside the deep cell wing straightened instantly as I approached, their heavy iron pikes slamming against the stone floor in synchronized salute.

"Leave us," I commanded, my gravelly baritone echoing off the damp vault.

"High Alpha," the lead guard bowed low, unlocking the heavy iron grate before retreating up the stairs, his boots echoing into the dark silence.

I took the iron torch from the wall sconce and stepped into the pitch-black corridor of the deep cells.

The air was heavy, thick with the distinct, agonizing scent of silver suppression runes burning against divine magic. At the far end of the hallway, suspended inside a massive cage made of cold-forged iron bars laced with glowing purple silver, sat Alora.

She was slumped in the center of the cage floor, her back against the damp stone, her knees drawn tightly to her chest. Her high-collared black leather vest was torn, her skin pale and bruised under the harsh, sickly glow of the runes encircling her wrists, ankles, and collarbone. Her long dark hair hung in matted, damp strands across her face.

As my heavy boot steps came to a halt outside her iron bars, she didn't move. She didn't weep. She merely sat in the dark, silent as a grave.

"No appetite, little princess?" I asked smoothly, resting my heavy hand against the iron crossbar, tilting the torch so the amber light illuminated her small frame. "My guards tell me you haven't touched the water or the bread. It would be a shame if you starved before your brother crawls up the mountain to die at your feet."

Alora’s head lifted slowly.

Her dark hair fell away from her face, exposing her pale, gaunt cheeks and bruised lips. But her eyes—burning through the dark with that insufferable, pure silver-gold light—fixed on mine with a lethal, silent rage that made my smile widen.

"Alexander isn't coming to die," she rasped out, her voice cracked and dry from days of thirst, yet carrying a stubborn, subterranean resonance. "He is coming to drag you into hell."

I let out a low, deep chuckle that echoed through the dark dungeon. "Your faith in that boy is almost touching, Alora. It reminds me so much of your mother."

At the mention of her mother, Alora’s jaw locked tight, the silver suppression collar around her neck flaring with a hot purple sizzle as her White Light throbbed against the metal. "Do not speak about Clara," she growled.

"Clara?" I scoffed, taking a step closer to the iron bars, my dark leather cloak snapping against the cold stone. "You think I speak of that frail, human farm woman who raised you in the dirt? No, Alora. I speak of your true mother. The woman who gave you that divine blood."

Alora froze, her silver-gold eyes narrowing through the bars as her breathing hitched.

"Ah, so you still don't know, do you?" I mocked, leaning my face close to the cold iron, letting her see the arrogant smirk on my lips. "Your adoptive mother was merely caretakers—cattle hired by loyalist traitors to keep you hidden in the human mud. But your true mother... she was the sun of the northern territories. The most magnificent Divine Healer to ever walk these mountains. And a complete, pathetic fool."

"Shut up," Alora whispered, her voice trembling with rising fury.

"She was meant to be mine!" I snarled, my smile vanishing as Eighteen years of bitter, suffocating resentment erupted in my chest. My voice dropped into a dark, razor-sharp hiss. "Before your father, High Alpha Adrian, ever claimed her as his luna, I was her destined mate. I fought for her. Sliverson was supposed to be ruled by us! But she chose Adrian. She chose a man who thought peace with humans was more valuable than absolute power!"

I gripped the iron bars, my claws digging into the cold metal until the rust scraped off beneath my fingernails.

"I offered her everything, Alora," I continued, pacing the narrow corridor outside her cage, my eyes blazing in the torchlight. "I told her that if she stood by my side, we would rule the continent together. But she rejected me. She called me a tyrant. So, eighteen years ago, I did what any true Alpha must do. I drove an iron blade through your father’s chest in the perimeter gorge, tore his crown from his head, and shattered his throne!"

Alora gasped, her hands flying to the silver collar around her throat as tears of raw, historical grief welled in her silver eyes. "You... you murdered our father..."

"I killed him so I could claim her!" I roared, slamming my heavy, leather-clad fist against her iron cage.

BOOM!

The heavy iron bars groaned under the impact, sending a shower of sparks into the dark. Alora flinched, but she kept her burning gaze locked on mine.

"I thought with Adrian dead, she would finally see reason," I said softly, my voice dropping back into a sickening, calm cadence. "I thought she would kneel, take my hand, and rule Stormfang by my side. But do you know what your mother did, Alora? She was a coward. A weak, foolish coward."

I stepped back, running my hand through my dark hair, laughing darkly. "Instead of accepting the crown, she poured every drop of her divine origin-magic into breaking the ancestral seal beneath this keep. She sacrificed her own life, her own body, her own soul... just to open a portal into the southern human valleys and smuggle you twin pups out of my reach!"

Alora sat frozen in the center of the cage, tears spilling over her pale cheeks, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps as the truth of her birth shattered the last remnants of her human childhood.

"She chose death and exile for you two over ruling an empire with me," I spat on the damp stone floor, my face contorting with disgust. "She tore her own bloodline apart out of spite. That was why I swore to hunt you down. I ordered my vanguards to slaughter both pups in their cradles. I wanted every trace of Adrian and her foolish sacrifice erased from the earth."

I stopped pacing, turning to look at Alora through the purple-glowing bars, a slow, predatory smile creeping back across my face.

"But then... over the years... I had a change of heart," I whispered, stepping up to her cage once more. "As the years wore on and my throne felt cold, I realized killing you pups was too merciful. Why destroy the divine bloodline when I can use it?"

I leaned down, looking straight into her tear-streaked face.

"You are going to sit in this silver cage, Alora," I promised, my voice carrying the absolute, uncompromising weight of my Alpha command. "You will watch me butcher your brother when he arrives at my gates. And then, you will take your mother's place. You will kneel before my throne, give your magic to my army, and spend the rest of your life watching the empire your parents died trying to prevent."

Alora slowly wiped the tears from her face with her bound, silver-laced wrist. She didn't scream. She didn't cower.

She stood up slowly, her body trembling under the weight of the suppression runes, and walked straight to the front of the cage until her nose was inches from the iron bars.

Her silver-gold eyes burned through the dark with a blinding, lethal hatred that matched the temperature of a dying star.

"My mother wasn't a coward," Alora whispered, her upper canines gleaming razor-sharp in the torchlight. "She saved us from a monster. And when Alexander and I are finished with you, Patrick... no one will even remember your name."

I stared at her for a long, silent moment, the absolute conviction in her voice sending a sudden, unwelcome chill down my spine. I scoffed, turning on my heel and marching toward the staircase, my heavy leather boots echoing through the gloom.

"Enjoy the cold, princess," I called back into the dark as the iron grate slammed shut behind me. "Your executioner is on his way."