All Chapters of The prophecy’s reject: Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

Mason’s POVThe fire hadn’t gone out. It hissed and spat, throwing light over her body. Zylia lay where the blast had dropped her. She was too still, too pale, and the dirt beneath her still scorched black.Raven stood a few paces away, knife in hand, face carved into something unreadable.“She’s not breathing,” she said. No fear in her voice. Just fact.“She is.” I knelt beside Zylia, fingers finding the pulse beneath her jaw. Faint, fluttering. “Barely.”Raven’s boots crunched the ash. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t wolf magic.”“I noticed,” I muttered. The air still smelled wrong, metallic and burntRaven circled her, “You saw what she did. That light, no wolf can do that. Not even Alphas. We should leave her.”The words hit like a slap. “You mean kill her.”“I mean survive.” Her gaze lifted, hard and cold. “That’s what you taught me, remember?”I swallowed the old memory she’d thrown like a blade. “She’s not a threat.”Raven tilted her head. “You’re sure?”No. Not even close. But t

Zylia’s POVI could’ve sworn none of them blinked throughout.The Hollow had changed something in the air, also in me. The whisper that had called my name still clung to my thoughts, threading through every heartbeat like a warning I couldn’t shake.Night came without stars.The ruins looked different in the dark , alive in a way that made my skin crawl. Every stone seemed to hum beneath the moonlight, as if the carvings themselves breathed. The air was thick, electric, waiting.Raven sat by a low fire, cleaning her blades in silence. Mason sharpened his knife beside her, his jaw tight. Sparks flickered between them, small and mean. I sat a few steps away, watching the faint shimmer still glowing on my palm. It hadn’t faded, not completely. My skin still remembered what it had done.“Don’t stare too long,” Raven said without looking up. “Things that change you don’t like being looked at.”“I wasn’t…” I started, then stopped. She was right. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant for

Killian’s POVThe temple was cold tonight.Colder than it had ever been, as though the moon itself refused to look down on us. The marble floor bit into my knees, and the scent of smoke clung to the air like a wound that wouldn’t close.The Priestess moved in a slow circle around the moon bowl, her veil fluttering with every chant. Silver light shimmered across the water, and for a heartbeat, I thought maybe,just maybe,the Goddess would answer.“Luna,” the Priestess called, her voice trembling. “Hear the cry of your wolves. We have obeyed, we have bled, we have given. Tell us,why do you turn away?”The torches bent with the wind. Shadows crawled up the walls.I stared at the reflection of the moon in the bowl, watching it tremble. “She won’t come,” I said under my breath.“She always comes,” the Priestess whispered, dipping her fingers into the water. “If we’ve not angered her beyond forgiveness.”My jaw tightened. “Then we’ll beg for it.”The air shifted.The moonlight dimmed, then f