Semua Bab Marked by the enemy alpha: Bab 41 - Bab 50

The chamber trembled as Aria stepped closer to the woman cloaked in silver flame. “Sereth…” Aria whispered the name that had haunted her dreams, the one she had heard whispered through the crystal, etched into stone, spoken in forgotten tongues. Now, it belonged to this ageless woman who stood in the center of the sacred chamber with calm, commanding power. Kael and the others spread out in a semi-circle behind her, their senses sharpened, weapons ready. But Sereth didn’t move. She only smiled, her eyes locked on Aria. “I have waited,” Sereth said, “for a thousand winters and a thousand bloodlines. You are the first to make it this far.” “Why me?” Aria asked, her voice quiet but steady. “Why was I marked?” Sereth tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Because the mark is not a curse—it is a choice. And you, Aria of the Shattered Pack, have always chosen mercy in a world that worships power.” The answer struck deep. Aria’s memories surged—the day she had healed a wounded rogue pup whe

The forest had changed. As Aria and her companions stepped back through the remnants of the Vale, the world they returned to was not the same one they had left behind. The trees whispered warnings, the winds carried the scent of war, and the ground beneath their feet pulsed with subtle magic. The Guardians’ blessing had not only awakened Aria—it had stirred something ancient in the land itself. Kael walked beside her in silence. Though his expression remained calm, his energy buzzed with barely concealed tension. He kept glancing sideways like he expected shadows to leap from the trees. Aria could feel it too. The Thirteenth wasn’t just stirring anymore—he was watching. The Sigil of Sealing hovered above her palm, its shape no longer just a mark but a living entity. It shifted and pulsed with her heartbeat. And deep within, she could feel the weight of her new role. Keeper of the Seal. Ressa broke the silence first. “How far are we from the Throne of the Void?” “Less than a we

The morning air was brisk as the group left Silverlight behind. Fog rolled across the hills like restless spirits, clinging to the hooves and paws of their mounts. Aria rode beside Kael in silence, her thoughts still tangled with the vision from the Oracle’s flame. The lake’s reflection of the red sky and the Throne of the Void haunted her every blink. But there was no more time for doubt. They had arrived at the final threshold—the ruins of Eldralen, the ancient fortress built to imprison the Thirteenth before he was sealed away. And now, it pulsed faintly with his magic once more. Lucien guided them with sharp eyes and wariness. “We’re near. The wind here smells… wrong.” “How close are we?” Ressa asked, scanning the desolate terrain ahead. “Hours, at most,” he replied. “We should proceed on foot. The wolves grow uneasy.” Sure enough, the normally disciplined war wolves pawed at the earth, whining low and ears pinned back. They sensed what lay ahead—the old death, the ancient c

The wind carried the scent of new beginnings—but Aria had learned that with every new dawn, some shadows grew darker. It had been just under a week since the sealing of the Thirteenth, and peace—though tentative—had begun to settle over Silverlight. The villagers moved with renewed purpose, warriors trained not with desperation but determination, and the land, once soaked in the echoes of pain, now dared to whisper life again. But for Aria, rest remained elusive. She had not spoken of the woman in the forest, nor the strange pendant now hidden beneath the floorboards of her room. The warning still rang in her ears, haunting every quiet moment: > “Where one force falls, another rises…” It was a reminder that victory did not mean safety. --- The Gathering Storm The morning brought with it a summons. Kael met her outside the Council Hall, his expression unreadable. “There’s someone here,” he said. “You should hear him out.” The hall was already full when Aria entered. Represen

The skies above Silverlight had turned from silver to slate. Clouds hung low, swollen with more than just rain—charged with the weight of a world on the brink. Whispers of unraveling carried on the wind, echoing through ancient stone halls like distant cries from a forgotten age. Aria stared at the northern horizon from the battlement of the watchtower. A storm was building—not of thunder and lightning, but of choices, prophecy, and blood. Kael stepped beside her, draped in his war cloak, his presence grounding her like gravity. She didn’t need to look to know his mind was in turmoil, same as hers. The line between love and fate was beginning to blur, and the tighter they held onto each other, the more the world tried to rip them apart. “Another seal has cracked,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Kael’s jaw tensed. “Where?” “East. Near the fallen spires of Vareen. The ley lines there have turned black. Lucien says it’s a harbinger of what lies beneath.” “We go,” Kael