All Chapters of The executioner and the Alpha King: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

The Black Mage’s Point of View I stand in front of the mirror, motionless, watching my own reflection like I’m watching a stranger. The flickering candlelight twists the shadows across my face, making me look older, sharper. My eyes are black as coal now. They used to be blue once, before the power fully took me. That stupid elder actually did his job well. Better than I expected. Too bad he died. I could’ve used him a little longer, squeezed more destruction out of him. But I don’t mourn his death—I only mourn wasted potential. I flex my fingers slowly, feeling the residual hum of magic under my skin, like static waiting for release. Every single one of those fools hiding behind their precious Alpha King is now infected with dark magic. Every last one of them. Their bodies won’t know it yet, not entirely—not until I decide to trigger it. I glance around the room. The walls are made of old stone, worn smooth by time. No windows. Just one heavy door, bolted shut from the inside. T

Eva’s Point of View The silence stretches long enough to make me uncomfortable, and that’s saying something. I’m used to silence. I like silence. But this isn’t the comfortable kind. This is the kind where everyone is holding their breath, waiting for me to explain why I just ruined dinner. Of course, Parker’s the first to break it. “Tell me that’s a cookbook.” I almost smile. Almost. “No.” “Is it a recipe for making people less annoying? Because if so, I have requests.” Sonia smacks his shoulder. “Parker, shut up.” I take a breath and run my fingers along the edge of the book. “It’s a book on ancient witchcraft. Forbidden rituals. Curses. And—more importantly—antidotes.” Theo leans forward. “Antidotes for what?” I glance at him, at the concern in his eyes, the weight of it pressing down on me like chains. “For soul transference. Mirror curses. Spells that make you think someone is someone else. Or worse… make the whole world believe a lie.” The words settle over the room li

Parker’s Point of View I’m starting to think this mission was designed specifically to ruin my life. At first, it’s not so bad. The horses are steady beneath us, the sun’s warm, the forest smells good in that I’m-about-to-die-in-nature kind of way, and Trixie hasn’t stabbed me yet. Progress. “Do you even know where we’re going?” Sonia asks from ahead, adjusting the straps of her pack for the fourth time in ten minutes. “Yes,” I lie confidently. “South. Toward the part of the map labeled ‘Here be horrible death.’” Michael, riding beside her, doesn’t even blink. “Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to be a skeleton hanging from a cursed tree.” “You’d be a handsome skeleton,” Sonia adds sweetly. “Aw, thanks,” Michael says dryly. “Romantic.” Behind me, Trixie lets out a long-suffering sigh like riding next to me is causing her physical pain. “If you don’t stop talking, I will find a cursed tree to tie you to.” “You know,” I say conversationally, “for someone who claims to hate me, you

Michael’s Point of View I don’t like magic. I don’t trust it. I don’t like it. And right now? I hate it. We’ve been following that stupid laugh for what feels like hours, wading through fog that clings to my boots and makes my gun feel heavier by the second. Trixie’s moving beside me, knives ready, muttering curses that’d make a priest faint. Then—finally—we see them. Through the fog, two figures standing close. Too close. A flash of blonde hair. A smirk I know far too well. Sonia. And… Parker? My jaw tightens as I step closer. No. No way. They’re… kissing. “You have got to be kidding me,” I growl. Trixie makes a noise like a strangled scream. “That absolute—when I get my hands on him—” I move first. Rifle up. Boots crunching across the dead leaves. But the second we get close enough to grab them, both figures flicker. And then they’re not people. They’re shadows. Two twisted, shifting silhouettes. Black where Parker’s grin should be, empty where Sonia’s eyes should bu

Parker’s Point of View When I wake up, I know something’s wrong. Not because of the fog—that’s expected by now. Not because of the cold creeping into my bones, or the way every single hair on the back of my neck is standing up like a warning siren. No. It’s the silence. And the fact that I’m alone. I sit up slowly, dirt clinging to my jacket, head pounding. The clearing is empty. No Trixie. No Michael. No Sonia. Just… me. Trixie? I try through the mindlink. Nothing. I close my eyes and focus harder, reaching out like Theo taught me to. Trix? Answer me. Where are you? Sonia? Anyone? Only static. Panic starts chewing at the edges of my stomach, but I shove it down. Panic doesn’t help. Thinking helps. And right now the only thought I have is find them. And then—I hear her. Trixie. Her voice, clear, sharp, annoyed as ever, floating through the fog like a lifeline. “—would you stop for once—ugh, Michael—” I sprint toward it, stumbling over roots and bones, ignoring the stin