All Chapters of The Alpha's Cursed vow: Chapter 31 - Chapter 38

The mist hadn’t lifted by the time they crossed into the forest’s northern reach. It pressed in close clinging to branches, to boots, to breath as though the woods themselves held their lungs captive.Silas walked ahead, his steps deliberate and light, barely rustling the earth. He didn’t speak, nor look back. But Seraphina could feel it that quiet tension humming from him like a second pulse. His body held something taut beneath the surface, something waiting to snap.Behind her, Dorian moved with the weight of a storm not yet broken. He hadn’t taken his hand off the hilt of his blade since they left Blackveil. Every sound made him flinch. Every glance Silas cast over his shoulder brought a deeper scowl to his face.“He walks too lightly for a man carrying so much truth,” Dorian murmured.Seraphina didn’t answer. She could barely trust her own thoughts, let alone voice them aloud. There was a strange rhythm in her chest, a thrum that hadn’t stopped since they left the safety of the l

The mist did not leave with them.Even after they crossed back into Blackveil, back to familiar paths and watchful trees, it clung to Seraphina like damp silk unseen by others, but heavy all the same. Her fingers curled around the charm Silas had worn, now hanging from her neck once more. A token of her mother. A promise unfulfilled.Dorian hadn’t spoken since their return.Not out of angerbthough it simmered in him still—but because some truths were too vast for words. And the ones Silas had given them... they hollowed more than answered. The Hollowing. A force without flesh. A hunger that crept beneath names and vows.Seraphina couldn’t stop thinking of it. How it had spoken through Xeroth. How it had marked her magic. How the spiral on Silas’s back had burned like it remembered her.She had barely slept when the summons came.A quiet knock on the door, urgent but uncertain.“Lady Seraphina,” came a young voice. “It’s Liam. It’s… it’s Bayla. Something’s wrong.”The words alone might

It began with the howling.At first, it was dismissed a few restless wolves caught in the clutch of uneasy sleep. A growl here. A snapped jaw there. Common enough for a pack long used to dreams laced with warning.But by the third night, it changed.The cries echoed louder, raw and desperate. Wolves woke clawing at the earth, at walls, at themselves. Blood appeared beneath their nails. Teeth clenched tight enough to chip. The pack doctor found claw marks on the inside of one warrior’s throat. He hadn’t screamed—he’d howled in his sleep, until something inside him tore.And still, no one spoke of it openly.As if voicing it might invite the thing in.Seraphina sat at the edge of the infirmary, her eyes on the sleeping forms around her. Warriors. Elders. Even pups. Each one curled in pain, twitching as if chased by something they couldn’t outrun. The scent of blood and fear mingled in the air like smoke after a burning.She could feel it now. The edge of it. Like a ripple in her magic,

The morning bled gold across Blackveil’s jagged treeline, but the sun held no warmth. Only light a pale imitation of fire. Seraphina stood at the border where the forest thickened into silence, her fingers tracing the edge of the bone charm at her throat. It had grown cold again. Not lifeless, but watchful. As if it too sensed the pull of what lay ahead. Silas waited just beyond the wards. Hood drawn, shoulders tense beneath his cloak, he didn’t speak as she approached. He only turned when her steps cracked frost across the underbrush. The look he gave her wasn’t one of welcome. It was a question. Are you sure? She nodded once. And without a word, they walked. The forest shifted the farther they went. The trees no longer grew in chaotic patterns. They bowed, curved, leaned inward as though they remembered something terrible and had grown twisted in the remembering. Roots tangled underfoot like grasping hands. Branches creaked even when there was no wind. It felt less like they w