All Chapters of Rejected By The Alpha, Desired By The Immortal King: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

POV: SELENE THE ASSEMBLY OF BROKEN STARS Solara had not trembled in an age. Yet tonight, beneath its gleaming towers and floating temples, the divine city held its breath. The stars above dimmed. The moons no longer moved in sync. Even the bells that marked Aetherian hours were silent—as if time itself sensed that something ancient had returned. I stood at the centre of the Council Hall. My veil trailed like mist drawn from a dying galaxy. The fracture in the Heartmirror still throbbed in my memory—the terrible sound of prophecy cracking under divine strain. My voice carried that same fracture now, thin but unignorable, like the first split in a dam. “He has returned.” No one moved. No one breathed. The thrones around me tightened—celestial beings once my equals, now watching me as though I’d torn open the sky. They arced in a radiant circle: thrones shimmering with rivers of light, others forged of bone, wind, and obsidian flame. One remained empty, flickering faintly where

POV: Araya The Hollowfire The air doesn’t move here. The trees don’t breathe. Even the moon turns her face away. I follow Dorian through a forest that has stopped pretending to be alive. There is no path — only black stone carved with symbols that writhe when I look too long, the grooves pulsing faintly like veins under old, cold skin. Every step, the world grows quieter. The silence presses against my skull like a hand, squeezing. We reach the clearing. At its centre — a fire. It rises without fuel from the cracked earth, pale violet and silver, hissing like something alive. A perfect ring with a hollow heart. It isn’t warm. It’s watching me. --- The moment I step closer, it breathes — and my lungs lock. Something ancient inside the flame stirs, slow and hungry. It knows me. Not Araya. It knows the name beneath my skin. The fire doesn’t pull like gravity. It pulls like memory — like recognition. “What is this?” My voice comes out raw. “The

POV: DORIAN The forest should have been still. But I felt it. The shift. The rot. It had started the moment she left the Hollowfire. Not a storm. Not a scent. A presence. --- I followed her, watching as she walked barefoot over ash. Araya—no. Nyxara—didn’t flinch anymore. She moved like the forest owed her breath. Like the trees should bend. Like silence should bow. And they did. Even the roots curled back. Even the wind hushed. But something else was rising. Something darker. And I knew its name. Because once—long ago—it had spoken through me. Not in words. Never in words. It used memory. Regret. Echoes of truths too heavy to voice. It always came crawling after fire. A whisper rode the wind— not a breath, not a voice: Ruin. She is awake. She is on fire. She does not kneel. --- Someone was following her. Not to strike. To see. To remember her. The last time I heard that voice bleed from the ground, a temple collapsed— and a god fled its own alta

POV: Kade The Luna Ritual was supposed to make me stronger. The stones glowed. The chants faded. The sun slid behind the cliffs and spilled gold across the altar. The pack held its breath like one animal. I was Alpha-born. This was where bloodlines locked and futures obeyed. Adira stood in the circle, perfect as a temple carving—golden robes, braided crown, the exact Luna the Elders prayed for. She tilted her head, baring her throat, a smile like victory breaking across her lips. I stepped in. One breath. Two. The scent hit me—sweet, heavy… wrong. I bared my fangs and leaned— Ryven snarled. Not warning. Refusal. It ripped through my ribs like iron, buckled my knees, sent my claws bursting from my fingers. They cut my palm; blood spattered the ash. Adira flinched, then steadied. “Do it,” she whispered. “Finish this.” I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. “She’s not ours,” Ryven growled in my skull. “She will never be ours.” The ground tilted. I stumbled back. Gasps pul

POV: Adira I haven’t slept since the failed ritual. Not since Kade convulsed mid-claim and his wolf howled for a girl who should have been gone—burned, forgotten, erased. I pace the length of my moonstone-tiled chamber, silk robes dragging like wounded pride. The polished obsidian mirror fractures my reflection into seven shards—each one sharper, angrier than the last. But my mind keeps circling back to the first time I tried to remove the problem before it had teeth. --- Flashback Deep winter. Snow was heavy on the trees. Frost clung to the watchtowers. I’d sent rogues east—not my usual swaggering killers, but hunters who could move as silently as frostfall. Among them was my shadow—my spy. Small, forgettable, cowardly enough to survive by hiding. He came back alone. Mud-caked fur. Torn paws. Eyes wide and rolling like prey. “We had her,” he told me, voice shaking. “She wasn’t fighting at first. And then… she wasn’t her anymore.” That phrasing caught like a thorn. She was