All Chapters of The Alpha King's Forbidden Mate: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

The fire called her by name.Not Serena.Not Isareth.Just sound. Light. Memory. A hum only she could hear vibrating along her bones.She stood at the center of the Scar circle, arms bare, the mark on her back alive. It flickered with gold and black as the flame in front of her split—not up, but inward—revealing not heat but depth. Like it was folding open.A passage.She stepped forward.Elias reached out instinctively. “Wait—”But Serena was already gone.Not disappeared.Drawn in.She didn’t burn.She sank.Into warmth. Into time.The world peeled away. Not darkness, not light. Just remembering.She stood in a desert that wasn’t dry. The sky shimmered like molten gold, and the air whispered in voices that never touched her ears, only her thoughts. And then, she saw it—the First Gate. Towering. Not carved. Not placed. It had grown. From roots of ash and molten glass. Its surface bore no symbols, but she knew what it meant.This was where the fire first forgot itself.Imara stood at

The light of the Gate was not warm.It was heavy.Like the weight of every forgotten promise.Serena and Elias stood hand in hand as the tunnel of memory unfolded before them. It wasn’t a hallway, not a door—it was a space stitched together by moments lost to fire. They stepped into it, and instantly the Scar behind them dissolved into a glowing thread of ash and time.No up.No down.Just a path.And it moved as they walked, pulling itself into existence beneath their feet.Elias glanced sideways. “Do you feel that?”Serena nodded slowly. “It’s not just a place. It’s watching us.”“The fire?”“No. Us. Before the fire. Before the power. Before we chose each other.”She paused.“It remembers who we were before we became weapons.”He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.“Then let’s show it who we are now.”They walked deeper.Shapes shimmered in the distance—echoes of cities that no longer stood. Villages buried under ember and war. Faces flickering in the light, reaching out and then fading

The Gate had closed with the soft finality of a heartbeat ceasing—not abrupt, not loud. Just... inevitable.Serena took a single step forward into the obsidian chamber, and the weight of the past fell on her like mist—soft, constant, inescapable.Every part of the hollow glowed with the memory of fire, not its heat. Walls pulsed with slow, amber light, as if they breathed. The air shimmered faintly, carrying scents that didn’t belong in the present—jasmine, parchment, wet earth after rain.Elias stepped beside her. His fingers brushed hers, not seeking reassurance, but grounding.“We’ve crossed a threshold,” he murmured. “There’s no going back now.”She didn’t answer—just looked ahead at the altar in the center of the circular chamber.There it was.The Heart of Flame.Not roaring. Not raging.Just sleeping—a quiet, golden ember suspended in the air, gently pulsing like a dream trying not to be forgotten.Behind them, Lilith, Kael, Kiva, and Darian entered slowly, reverently.Kael's v

At dawn, the Hollow stood eerily still.Gone was the wild surge of power from the battle. The flames had settled. The ashes no longer sang—but they listened.The survivors moved silently.Kael sharpened his sword by the stream, knuckles bruised but steady.Kiva sat nearby, whispering protection wards into the soil.Lilith crouched near the circle of scorched earth, etching ancient runes with a trembling hand. The memory of Auriel lingered in her mind like perfume—sweet, haunting, unfinished.Serena stood at the center, her back to the newly awakened grove, watching the mist roll in over the distant ridge.“They’ll keep coming,” she said aloud.“They always do,” Elias answered behind her.She turned to him. “This time, we need more than memory. We need witnesses.”Echoes in the Ember VeilA faint shimmer appeared at the edge of the Hollow—like heat bending air.The ashes stirred once more.And through the veil stepped three figures.Each wore robes unlike anything seen in centuries—sti

The sky above the Hollow was dull, muted by clouds that had not carried rain in months, and beneath its gray weight, the company made preparations to depart. The wind carried a strange silence—neither peaceful nor ominous, but watchful, as though the world itself was waiting to see if their journey would mark a rebirth or the final cinder before all went dark.Serena stood quietly near the boundary of the Hollow, her cloak clasped but loose, flame-woven threads catching the early breeze. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of the memory dagger she had forged days earlier—light, elegant, but etched with the runes Atheira had whispered into her palm under the Ember Moon. This blade would not kill with pain. It would strike through memory, severing false truths Maeron might use to deceive them. It was a weapon made for remembrance, not revenge.Beside her, Elias tightened the leather straps on his shoulder harness, his posture calm but his jaw tight. He didn’t need to say anything. Thei