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Lahat ng Kabanata ng Craving the alpha soldier : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

175 Kabanata

Chapter thirty-one

Tyla’s POVThe Rewritten Bond Darkness wasn’t empty.That was the first thing I realized.It wasn’t quiet or still or numb.It pulsed.Like a heartbeat.Like three heartbeats.Boom.Boom.Boom.One heavy and fierce, shaking the dark like a war drum.One sharp but faltering, flickering in and out like a cracked star.And one—mine—glowing from the center, expanding outward like fire learning how to breathe.The white Mark inside me spun faster, threads of gold and silver tangling around it, weaving into something new.Something alive.I reached upward—or maybe inward—my fingers brushing the light curling around me.It wasn’t warm.It wasn’t cold.It was… truth.A truth I wasn’t ready to touch.But it touched me anyway.A voice whispered through the dark:THREE PATHS CONVERGE.THREE BONDS REFORMED.THREE FATES INTERLOCKED.My breath caught—and the darkness split.A sound tore through it.A voice.Arthur.“Tyla—TYLA—come back—please—come back—”His voice was raw, ripped open.Each syllab

Chapter thirty-two

Tyla’s POVThe world rebuilt itself around me in pieces.Sound first.A roaring wind, sharp and hollow, like it had been pulled through a thousand miles of tunnel before reaching my ears. Then the low, distant groan of trees bowing under something heavy. Then a single voice — faint, broken — whispering my name.“Tyla…”I blinked.White flared.Then dimmed.Then focused.I was lying at the center of a forest I didn’t recognize.The trees rose like pillars, all of them white — bark, leaves, branches — as if winter had claimed every fiber of them, but the air was warm. Too warm. My hands trembled when I tried to push myself up.The ground wasn’t dirt.It was ash.Pale, feathery ash that clung to my palms like snow.A breath caught in my throat.“What… happened…?”Memory slammed into me.The Mark.The voice.Rowan shouting.Reynold pulling her back.Light exploding through my bones.I jerked upright.“A-Arthur—?”Silence.No wolves.No Rowan.No Reynold.No Ash.Just me.And the forest ma

Chapter thirty-three

Tyla’s POVThe world didn’t explode outward this time.It imploded.Every particle of light collapsed into a single point — a crushing, inverted eruption that dragged the air out of my lungs and folded the realm inward like paper.The force slammed into me.I felt my ribs bend.My vision blackened at the edges.My bones liquefied into pressure.I couldn’t scream.I couldn’t breathe.I—Then the pressure stopped.Not eased.Stopped.Like someone had pressed pause on reality.I hovered in absolute stillness, neither falling nor standing, suspended in a void of pure white. No ground. No sky. No horizon. Just light so soft it felt like breathing snow.My body floated like it weighed nothing.A voice broke the silence.Not the white-haired woman.Not the wolf.A third voice — low, steady, familiar in a way that made the back of my throat burn.“Tyla.”I turned.A shape formed out of the white.Step by step, the figure sharpened, condensing into familiar lines, familiar shoulders, familiar

Chapter thirty-four

Tyla’s POVThe first thing I learn about power is that it does not arrive loudly.It settles.It seeps.It waits until you’re too tired to fight it and too proud to run.I feel it long before Arthur notices anything is wrong.We’re in the eastern wing of the palace, the part no one uses anymore because the stone there remembers too much. Old magic. Old blood. The air tastes metallic, like rain about to fall, and my skin hums faintly beneath my clothes.Not burning.Listening.Arthur is speaking—something about patrol routes, about unrest near the southern border—but his voice keeps slipping out of focus, like a sound heard underwater.My hand drifts to my collarbone.The Mark is quiet.Too quiet.That scares me more than when it screams.“Tyla?”I blink and look up. Arthur has stopped walking. His brows are drawn together, golden eyes sharp with concern.“You’ve gone pale,” he says. “What’s wrong?”“I don’t know,” I admit. And I hate that it’s true.The corridor around us seems to str

Chapter thirty-five

Tyla’s POVThe moon cracked.Not figuratively.Not symbolically.Not in prophecy or metaphor.The sky split open with a sound like the universe inhaling sharply—a brittle, crystalline snapthat shook the air down to its bones.The light dimmed, flickered, pulsed in stuttering waves across the heavens.Even the Moon Court—the strongest, most ancient warriors alive—reacted the same way I did:They froze.The Priestess stepped backward, head snapping up, robes flaring in the wind like torn parchment. Her pupils constricted, glowing white swallowing her irises entirely.“No,” she whispered.“No—this cannot be—”Arthur pulled me closer, every muscle in his body coiled so tightly I could feel the tremors through his arms. His chest heaved behind me, breath ragged, eyes locked on the sky as the crack spread like a spiderweb across the moon’s surface.Reynold’s blade clattered to the forest floor.He staggered to one knee, breath knocked out of him.“Gods,” he choked. “The moon is… failing.”

Chapter thirty-six

ARTHUR’S POVThe first thing I felt was pain.Not sharp—worse.Deep.Ancient.Like something had carved into the center of my ribcage and left its hand there.I sucked in a full breath, lungs trembling, and my eyes snapped open.White ceiling.White linens.The faint smell of moon-dust and healing herbs.The healer’s hall.My fingers twitched first.Then my legs.Then—“Tyla.”I jolted upright so fast the bandages across my chest tore.She lay on the bed beside mine.Still.Too still.Her hair spilled across the pillows like a midnight river, her skin pale as the moon. But her Mark—gods, her Mark—throbbed under her skin like a second heartbeat, each pulse fracturing the air around her in tiny ripples.Not normal.Not safe.I reached for her wrist.Warm.But the warmth felt… wrong.Not feverish.Not cold.Just—unstable.The door burst open.Reynold.His eyes widened when he saw me sitting up.“You’re awake.”“Where’s Tyla?” My voice cracked. “What happened? How long—”“Arthur.” He rais

Chapter thirty-seven

Arthur’s POVThe world came back in pieces.Not gently.Not slowly.Not like waking up—but like being dragged, heartbeat-first, through broken glass.The first thing I felt was weight.Her weight.Tyla, collapsing back into my arms.My body reacted before my mind did—arms locking around her, pulling her tight against my chest as if any gap between us would invite the void to come screaming back through. My heart was still racing from the fight in the realm—the woman’s voice, the wolf’s snarl, the way Tyla had chosen me so fiercely it burned the realm apart—Her choice still shook through me like a second heartbeat.“Tyla,” I whispered, brushing hair from her face, “stay with me.”Her skin was hot.Too hot.Not fever-hot—moon-hot.Mark-hot.A pulse throbbed beneath her collarbone, spreading warmth through her neck in waves I could feel even through my gloves. The white mark wasn’t dormant. It hadn’t quieted. It was coiling, like a serpent preparing to either strike or shield. I could

Chapter thirty-eight

Arthur’s POVTyla’s breath trembled against my shoulder long after the last shards of lantern glass stopped skittering across the floor.She wasn’t shaking with fear.She was shaking with too much power.Too much destiny.Too much of something neither of us understood.Her mark flickered white beneath her skin like lightning trapped behind bone. Every pulse sent a faint vibration through the room—the walls humming in answer, the air thickening, the floorboards creaking like a living thing shifting under our feet.“Tyla,” I whispered, brushing her cheek, “look at me.”She did.And for a split second all the breath in my chest left me.Her eyes weren’t human.They weren’t wolf.They weren’t anything mortal.A storm lived inside them. Not chaotic—purposeful. A storm that knew where it wanted to go and what it wanted to destroy on the way.I cupped her face, trying to ground her—and myself.“You’re here,” I said. “With me.”“I feel…” She swallowed hard, breath shaky. “Arthur, I feel every

Chapter thirty-nine

Arthur’s POVThe breaking point:The world narrowed to the shape of Tyla’s body collapsing in my arms.One moment she was standing—barely—but standing.The next, her knees buckled as though someone had sliced the tendons clean through. I caught her before she hit the floor, but even then, it felt like trying to hold falling moonlight. Too light. Too limp. Too cold.“Tyla,” I breathed, not recognizing my own voice.It was raw. Frantic.Her head lolled against my chest, her eyelashes trembling like something was happening behind them—something enormous. Something I couldn’t see.My heart slammed against my ribs, too loud, too fast. It felt wrong. It felt like it knew something I didn’t, like it had already begun mourning something I refused to even imagine.Not her.Not again.Not now.“Get her on the bed,” someone said.I didn’t look to see who it was. I didn’t need to. I moved automatically, lifting her as though she weighed nothing and laying her against the silk sheets. Her hair spi

Chapter forty

Ash’s POVInside the Mark RealmThe first thing I felt was cold.Not the kind that bit at skin or burrowed into bone—those were mortal sensations. This was deeper. Older. Cold that came from nonexistence, from stepping into a place that had never been meant to hold life.It welcomed me like a grave.My body hit the ground—or something pretending to be ground—hard enough to crack bone. But pain didn’t behave normally here. It echoed through me as if time itself lagged behind. It hurt late. Too late. Like the realm needed a moment to remember what pain was.I pushed myself up, vision swimming.The world around me was… wrong.A sky with no stars, only silver streaks like claw marks ripping through endless night. Rivers of light flowing upward instead of down. Shadows that moved without a source.And the Mark—my Mark—burned like molten metal across my chest.It was calling.Pulling.Tyla.I staggered forward, breath shaking. Every step felt like wading through memories—mine, hers, Arthur’

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