All Chapters of Forbidden: Fated To My Step Son : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Amara’s POVLila’s scream split the night.I didn’t hesitate. I ran barefoot across the camp, the earth cold beneath my soles, my pulse louder than the wind. Kael was already ahead of me, tearing through the tent flap, blade in hand, but we both stopped cold at the sight.Lila sat upright on her cot, bathed in silver light, her eyes glowing so brightly the tent was fully illuminated. She was shaking, not with fear but with something deeper, something ancient and too large for her small frame.“She’s not alone,” she whispered.Kael knelt beside her, reaching carefully. “Lila, what did you see?”Her gaze snapped to him.“It’s not her anymore. It’s something else. It’s coming. It’s old. Older than Zivana. Older than everything.”My breath caught.“Do you know its name?”She shook her head. “It doesn’t have one. Or maybe… it has too many.”I moved to her other side, brushing the hair from her damp forehead.“Where did you see it?”She pointed toward the woods.But her voice went flat.“I

Amara’s POVNo drums signaled the end.No voices called down from the sky. No omens. No smoke.Just breath.Just light.The kind that doesn’t ask for attention. The kind that falls gently on skin and makes the trees glitter like they remember how to hope. We had come through it all—gods, shadows, hunger, names lost and remembered—and now the world was just still.I sat alone beneath the Source Tree, a place that had once threatened to unravel me. Now it held me like a memory too cherished to fade.Lila ran barefoot through the new garden, chasing a pup with her hair undone and laughter rising like windchimes. I watched her, letting the image imprint on my soul like a prayer I never wanted to forget. There had been too many nights where I believed I would never see this. Too many mornings when I thought she was truly gone. But life had returned, not in the roar of victory—but in small, stubborn joys.Kael stood a few yards away, speaking with Vega and the Crescent envoy. His expression

Amara’s POVBlood dried too fast. Sticky warmth turned to cracked rust between my fingers, and for a moment I couldn’t move—not from fear, but disbelief. It wasn’t mine. I was sure of that now. My heartbeat pulsed consistently, no injury, no discomfort. And still the metallic odor enveloped me like a second layer. Kael lay next to me, one arm draped over his face, completely oblivious. I observed him—his chest lifting, his breathing leisurely, body untouched. The sheets, wrapped around us, were pristine except for the marks my hands left on them. A shiver ran down my spine, freezing my breath. Something occurred while I was sleeping. I quietly got out of bed, my heart pounding in my throat, and walked to the mirror. Beneath the wavering lantern light, I inspected my body thoroughly, and then it appeared to me. An emblem. Dim initially, resembling an old bruise, then deepening as I gazed. Winding black ink curled under my ribcage, throbbing as though it were alive. I was unaware of

Amara’s POV My name echoed through the trees not the name I’d fought for, bled for, lived with but something older. Woven into bone and curse.I turned toward the distant howl, but my feet felt chained to the earth. The mark on my wrist throbbed, hot and cold, as if something deep inside me remembered. I didn’t.Not yet.Kael was at my side in seconds, his breath ragged, eyes shifting between gold and shadow. “Who called you?”“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But it knew me. And it wasn’t a memory.”He reached for my arm, brushing the edge of the glowing sigil. “It’s reacting… to something. Or someone.”“Or someone buried,” I muttered.We descended deeper into the forest. The others stayed behind—Caleb to hold the wards, Victor to brood in silence, and the twins to monitor the eastern trail. I didn’t want witnesses if I unraveled.Because that’s what it felt like: unraveling. Every step I took made my skin itch. Every breath filled my lungs with the scent of something I couldn’t place—i

Amara’s POV The trees whispered his name before I dared to say it.Cyrus.It echoed across the timbered hollows of my bones, slithered down my spine like memory soaked in blood. His scent—smoke, iron, rot—flooded my senses before I could stop it. The rebel wolves behind him parted like a tide, revealing the nightmare I’d only ever known in fragments and dreams.He hadn’t aged. Or perhaps time had bent for him—twisted in reverence or fear. Cloaked in furs that dripped blackened sigils and bone tokens, he moved like a phantom of the old world. A remnant of something so ancient, it had to be forgotten to make room for peace.His eyes landed on me.And everything inside me began to unravel.“Little wolf,” he rasped, voice like grinding stone. “You remember.”I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My hand clenched around the hilt of the blade at my hip, even as my vision swam with flickers—images of other children, cages carved with runes, chanting priests, and fire. So much fire.“You marked me,”