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THE HOLLOW ALPHA

Autor: Merryn
last update Última actualización: 2025-09-15 04:18:21

POV: Adira

The tremor becomes a rhythm.

It rolls through the stones, up through the soles of my feet, until it lives inside my chest. The soundless thud of something vast, something hidden, something older than the Veil itself. My breath comes ragged, but I refuse to cower. I tilt my chin higher, though my body quivers.

The torches crackle, flare, and then gutter, their flames guttering into tongues of green fire that spit shadows across the walls. Each lick of flame warps the banners, melting their wolves into smears of ink. The chamber bends and breathes as though it has lungs of its own.

I clutch my belly tighter. The child twists, not with the tender flutter of life, but with the violent spasms of something answering a call. My pulse staggers. My knees scrape raw against the dais' stone, yet I do not rise. I will not rise. To kneel is to invite, to offer, to bind.

“Stronger,” I whisper again, throat hoarse with need. “Stronger than any Alpha. Stronger than her. Stronger than him.”
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  • Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King   THE FIRST BLADE

    POV: Araya The hall had not finished echoing when the shadow came. Not a door opening. Not a wolf stepping from the crowd. This was absence made flesh. A blade-shaped void cut through the silver rain still hanging in the rafters, and the air itself hissed as if a seam had been unstitched. My wolf bristled so hard it hurt my ribs. Nyxara hissed in my skull: Steel. Old steel. Then I saw him. He stood where no path led, bronze skin gleaming as if hammered straight from ore, eyes faceted obsidian, hair pulled tight into a knot that never moved. Armor wrapped his body in shifting light—blades folded over each other, edges reforming every time my focus tried to hold. A sword the size of a man’s height rode his back, silent, patient. A weapon, not a man. Nyxara’s tone was ice: The First Blade. The name dragged dust from the rafters. Even Selene’s silver shivered. He looked at me. No blink. No breath. “You are to be unmade.” --- He moved before the last syllable. Faster than wolv

  • Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King   THE MOON DESCENDS

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  • Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King   Ashmouth’s Chains

    POV: AshmouthDarkness tastes different when it has been kept too long.New dark is nervous — it clings to corners, panics at the scrape of flint, waits for fire to name it. But old dark, the kind that learns patience, that moulds itself around stone, chains, and silence—this kind is thick enough to chew. I have chewed it for centuries.The Loom buried me here. Or claimed to.Above me, Solara hangs, a hollow crown of false light and false law. I feel it in the stone, in the air that drips through cracks like thin wine. Once, I stood there. Once, my voice cracked their table in two. Once, I burned their order to glass and ash.Then chains. Always chains.---The cavern is a cathedral of ruin.Iron columns spike down from the ceiling, hammered into bedrock. They are not decoration. They are links, each wider than a wolf’s back, each carved with the runes of gods afraid of their own shadows. They thread my limbs, my ribs, my throat. They drink my marrow and spit it back into the stone.A

  • Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King   ASH QUEEN RISES

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  • Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King   THE LUNA’S LIE

    POV: AdiraThe hall smells of wax and iron.Torches spit against black stone, smoke curling toward a vaulted ceiling painted with wolves that never lived. A dais rises like a blade at the chamber’s heart, draped in crimson and silver. Runes crawl faintly along the floor — roots etched into stone, old words bent into obedience.They told me this was only a rehearsal.But rehearsals are prisons too.I move through the steps the priest drilled into me: bow of the head, lift of the hands, turn of the wrist to show the bond-mark. My body performs with perfect grace; I was raised to make performance indistinguishable from truth. Still, my pulse betrays me, drumming against the child inside me.The pack kneels in my imagination, though the hall is mostly empty. I see their bowed heads, their whispers: Luna. Luna. Luna. My name as triumph. My womb as proof.I place my palm on the swell of my belly. The child stirs faintly, a flutter like wings.Erik stirs with it.Mine, he whispers, silk thre

  • Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King   COUNCIL FRACTURES

    POV: Selene — CouncilThe chamber has no walls.It never did.It hangs by law and light alone — a hollow sphere above Solara’s highest spire, open on every side. The city below glitters and seems small, its towers like candle stubs. Mortal fires can’t touch us here. The Loom hums overhead, threads stretching into infinity.Tonight, the hum is wrong.A pulse moves through it — heavy, alien, older than any cadence we wrote into the weave. Each vibration shudders the chamber, bends the pillars of fire as if some wind dared to exist here. Solara’s golden spires tremble; the city rings like struck glass.The Council erupts.“IT IS A WEAPON!” War bellows, his voice cracking against light. His gauntleted fist slams the table of fire; sparks fall like meteors. His hair lifts in the heat of his own fury. “You felt it. You all felt it! A seam, a strike, a pulse not born of us. This is an attack!”Death does not flinch. She never does. Her lips curl as if she’s been waiting longer than eternity

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