All Chapters of THE ALPHA'S LAST CHOICE : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The name hovered on her tongue, not spoken but sensed—each syllable humming with power that had no place in this world. Selena's knees buckled as the weight of it sank into her bones, branding her soul with memories not entirely her own. Lucien reached for her, but the light between them thickened, warping the air like glass about to break. A hum began low in the ground, like something waking beneath the stone, resonating with the name that had not yet been spoken. The Spiral hissed in pain, its threads unraveling around her ribs like it was being scorched from within.“I remember now,” she whispered, the words forming against the will of her present self. “I didn’t just choose the flame. I was made to carry it.” The reflection in the gate tilted its head, smiling like it had been waiting for centuries to hear her say it. Maera cried out from behind her, blood running from her nose as she tried to hold the runes together with sheer will. The seal cracked beneath her palms, sending up

The silence after the gate’s whisper was not empty. It was full—too full—like the moment before a storm breaks, the breath before a scream. Selena stood perfectly still, hand pressed against the gate’s smooth surface, her breath now entwined with something older than air. Inside her, the Spiral’s remnants floated like ash in windless space, its destruction revealing not loss, but clearing. She felt hollow, not from emptiness, but from being carved open by something that had waited far too long to speak through her.Lucien dared to move first, boots scraping softly against the marble floor that still trembled from whatever had passed between her and the gate. “Selena…” he said, the name not a question but a tether, anchoring her just enough to remind her she was still flesh and blood. She turned toward him, eyes shining not with light, but with reflection, as though everything she had ever been now lived behind them. “I heard it,” she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her finger

The mirror pulsed beneath her palm, and the child’s voice echoed once more, a spectral whisper echoing in her bones. “Will you forget me again?” It wasn’t just a question. It was a wound, ancient and echoing, like a lullaby no one dared remember. Selena’s hand trembled, her breath shallow, caught between instinct and unraveling revelation. The mirror showed the girl again—hollow-eyed, thread-wrapped, mouth open in a silent cry too large for words.Selena staggered back, and the mirror darkened, but the impression of the child remained burned into her vision. Around her, the threads that made up the realm unraveled faster now, like a tapestry resisting its own story. Memory bled into form—mountains collapsed into dust, stars flickered and vanished, and time screamed in reverse. She saw gods shedding their forms, not to ascend, but to hide. They had erased the child not out of malice, but fear.The being beyond the knot stepped closer, its form bending reality like glass near fire. It d

The question burned beneath Selena’s fingertips, searing through skin and soul as if it were branded into her name. What happens when the lie forgets it’s a lie? It was not just a riddle—it was a key, forged to shatter the mind of any who dared to answer it unprepared. The gate pulsed, reacting not to force but to the weight of her memory. Behind her, Cael stood silent, watchful, as if he too felt the gate was watching back.Selena took a breath and stepped forward. The surface rippled—not with color, but with voices, each whispering fragments of herself she had never known. “You were never real,” one said. “You were always too much,” murmured another. “You were the first mistake,” hissed a third. She clenched her fists, holding steady as the door tested her resolve, slamming her with pieces of every doubt she had ever carried. But this time, she didn’t flinch. She remembered.“I was made,” she said aloud, her voice cutting through the gate’s illusions. “I was shaped, not erased. And

Darius's presence fractured the stillness of the chamber like thunder splitting a frozen lake. Selena turned to him, her hand frozen mid-reach between the threads, the gold one pulsing most insistently beneath her fingers. His boots echoed on the obsidian floor, but the sound felt dim, swallowed by the thickening air that suddenly tasted of ash and iron. “What do you mean—they followed me?” she asked, but the answer was already coiling in the back of her mind, threads unraveling with dreadful recognition. The Spiral had not been a gate alone—it had been a beacon.Behind Darius, the shimmer of the altar’s starlit veil trembled violently. From its folds, shadows spilled like oil, figures rising where there should have been none—formless at first, then slowly assuming shapes familiar and grotesque. The High Priests who had fallen in the first war, the Void-Eaters banished to the edges of memory, the doppelgängers from the mirrored trials—all converging, drawn by her presence and the thre