All Chapters of The Omega’s Rise: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The Moon's Judgment Davina's POV The temperature dropped so fast my breath fogged in the air. Every hair on my body stood upright as an unnatural wind howled through the dungeon, extinguishing half the torches in one breath. The remaining flames burned blue, casting eerie shadows that danced like spirits across the stone walls. Max's hand flew to his sword. Eric shoved me behind him, his claws unsheathing with a sickening snick. Then the screaming started. Council guards dropped their weapons, clutching their heads as their eyes rolled back. One collapsed to his knees, frothing at the mouth. Another began carving bloody runes into his own forearm with frantic fingers. Eleanor backed against the wall, her perfect face twisted in terror. "What's happening, " The ground trembled. A crack split the stone floor, snaking between our feet like a living thing. From its depths rose a mist that smelled of crushed juniper and fresh blood. Then She appeared. The moon goddess stoo

Unmarked Bonds (Eric's POV) I caught the first babe - a boy with Davina's dark curls and Malcolm's stubborn chin. The second, a girl, came minutes later, her tiny fists already glowing with moon-touched silver. But my eyes kept returning to the woman who'd saved them. Seraphina Morales looked nothing like the other legendary healers from history. Up close, I could see the scars where Genevieve had sawed off her claws, the hollows of malnutrition beneath her cheekbones. Yet when she cradled her granddaughter, the years fell away. "Genevieve plots," she whispered, rocking the mewling infant. "Not as she was, but... a wraith wearing her skin. She's been gathering forces in the blighted lands." Malcolm stiffened. "What forces?" "Wolves who miss the old ways." Seraphina's voice turned bitter. "Those who think omegas should kneel and Alphas should rule with fang and flame." Davina stirred weakly, her hand finding mine. "Eric..." I knew that tone. Knew what she'd ask before the wor

Blood and Betrayal (Davina's POV) Sweat stung my eyes as I blocked Nadia's tenth strike of the morning, my forearms burning from the impact. The training clearing smelled of trampled grass and iron, the scent of my split knuckles mingling with the metallic tang of the practice swords. My mom had gone to look for the flute from my childhood and now she's missing, hearing reports that she might have been killed or kidnapped by Genevieve forces is putting my mind in an endless worry. "Faster," Eric commanded from his perch on the fallen oak. His gray tunic clung to his chest, darkened with sweat despite the autumn chill. "An Alpha won't telegraph their moves like Nadia." Nadia smirked and lunged again. I pivoted left, just as Eric had drilled me, using her momentum against her. My practice sword connected with her ribs with a satisfying thwack. A surprised grunt. Then applause. Malcolm leaned against the far fence, his blue eyes crinkling. "Not bad for a wolfless." The old

The Flute Maker's Price (Davina's POV) The stench of human industry burned my nose, coal smoke, rotting fish, and the acrid tang of whatever chemicals they used to tan their leather. Blackwater's wooden docks groaned beneath our boots as we navigated the crowded port, Eric's bulk drawing nervous glances from passing sailors. Malcolm adjusted the ridiculous widebrimmed hat hiding his Alpha markings. "This is madness," he muttered for the tenth time. "We should've brought the twins as leverage." Seraphina's grip on my arm tightened. "Jonas cares for nothing but his craft." Her breath came in shallow gasps, even with moonwater treatments, the years of captivity had left her frail. "Especially not... our kind." A group of drunkards spilled from a pud, their laughter dying as they took in Eric's towering frame. I pulled my hood lower, grateful for the human disguise of wool skirts and laceup boots. The flute maker's shop crouched at the end of a reeking alley, its signboard squ

The Binding Song (Davina's POV) The campfire popped, sending embers swirling into the night. Three days since the moon goddess's judgment, and the hollow space in my mind where the twin bonds had lived still ached like a fresh wound. The absence was a physical thing, a silence where once there had been the constant hum of two little hearts beating in time with mine. Seraphina crouched by the flames, stirring a bittersmelling tea. The scent of valerian root and moonflower leaves, a healer’s brew, one meant to loosen tongues as much as calm nerves. The firelight carved deep shadows into her gaunt face as she spoke. "Genevieve didn't just want Lyra to be Luna." Her voice was raw, as if the words were being dragged from her throat. "She wanted her to be you." Across the fire, Eric's scars pulsed crimson, a reaction to the dark magic lacing her words. The markings twisted like living things, forming strange new patterns I’d never seen before. For a heartbeat, they resembled musical