Semua Bab Born of Ash and Night : Bab 21 - Bab 30

POV CainIt doesn’t fade.That’s the first thing I realize.The pain doesn’t crest and retreat like wounds always do—it settles. Deep. Relentless. A living thing lodged beneath my ribs, burning hotter with every heartbeat.I stagger across my chambers, breath coming sharp and uneven. My vision swims, edges darkening as heat coils tighter inside me, crushing, twisting—claiming.“No,” I growl through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to do this.”The bond answers.It surges violently, a brutal spike of agony tearing through my core so sudden and intense that the sound rips out of me before I can stop it.A scream.Raw. Undignified. Mine.I hit the floor hard, palms scraping stone as my body convulses. It feels like my insides are being flayed apart—slowly, deliberately—every nerve lit with fire. Sweat drenches me. My muscles lock, then tremble, then betray me entirely.This isn’t punishment.This is retribution.Her face flashes behind my eyes—calm, furious, unyielding.Don’t worry. I will

POV Vaelira I’m summoned before dawn.Not invited. Not requested.Summoned.The audience chamber breathes cold when I step inside, carved from black stone veined with silver like frozen lightning. Pillars rise like the ribs of some ancient beast, the ceiling swallowed by shadow. The air tastes old—blood, dust, power.She waits on the obsidian throne.The vampire queen is taller than I expected when she stands, her presence unfolding slowly, deliberately, like a blade drawn partway from its sheath. Her skin is pale in the way moonlight is pale—luminous, flawless, almost unreal. Dark hair falls down her back in a sleek spill, threaded with natural silver that glints when she moves, not from age but from power earned over centuries.Her crown is simple. No jewels. No excess. A circlet of blackened silver that rests against her temples like a promise.Her eyes are the most dangerous thing about her.They are the same shade as Cain’s—but deeper. Older. Where his burn with defiance, hers h

POV VaeliraThe forest goes quiet the moment the bond snaps into place.Not peaceful—watchful.It hits me like a blade between the ribs, sharp and sudden, dragging a breath from my lungs. My magic flares in reflex, fire and shadow twisting beneath my skin as the full moon bears down on us like a judge.Then he steps into the clearing.Ashton.The wolf prince is built like violence given shape—broad shoulders, long limbs, power sitting on him so naturally it’s almost cruel. Moonlight catches in his dark hair, his eyes glowing an angry gold as they lock onto mine.The bond roars.His face twists immediately—not with surprise.With disgust.“Of all the fucking jokes the moon could play,” he mutters, voice tight. “It picks you.”There it is.I straighten, forcing my spine not to bend under the weight of it. “Good evening to you too.”His lip curls. “Don’t.”The bond pulls, insists, demands. He visibly fights it, shoulders tense like he’s holding back a shift.“I hate this,” he says flatly

POV VaeliraMaereth doesn’t even pretend to be surprised when I walk in.She’s stirring something that smells like regret and bad decisions, which feels appropriate given my life choices lately.“There’s another bond,” I say, kicking the door shut with my heel.She sighs. “Wolf.”“Prince,” I add. “Because apparently I collect royal disappointments now.”She gives me the look. The one that says cope now, sarcasm later.I ignore it and keep pacing. “His name’s Ashton. He hates the bond, hates me by extension, and made it very clear he’s in love with someone else. Very tragic. Very pureblood. Very not my problem.”“That kind of rejection is dangerous,” Maereth says.“Oh, don’t worry,” I reply dryly. “He was polite about it. His parents raised him better than to be rude while emotionally gutting someone.”Maereth pinches the bridge of her nose. “V.”“I’m fine,” I lied. “I just need to know how to break it before the moon decides to turn my ribs into a chew toy.”She goes very still.I sto

POV VaeliraThe Wolf Kingdom is exactly what I expected—big walls, bigger egos, and enough testosterone in the air to choke on.Stone towers loom over the courtyard like they’re daring someone to start a fight. Wolves watch me openly as I walk in, hands brushing weapons, noses flaring. No one stops me, which tells me one thing very clearly:They already know who I am.Good.“I’m here to see Prince Ashton,” I say to absolutely no one in particular, because authority is a suggestion, not a rule.I make it three more steps before someone cuts me off.And of course—it’s her.Raine looks like the kind of woman painters would weep over. Long pale-blonde hair falls down her back in soft waves that probably never tangle. Her skin is flawless, sun-kissed and warm, like she’s never known cold or hunger. Her eyes are a sharp silver-gray, calculating and territorial, and she wears pack leathers like they were stitched onto her at birth.She’s beautiful in that I’ve never had to fight for anything