All Chapters of The Omega's Promise : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

THOR Ingrid Bernard. The name tasted sour and sounded devilish no matter how hard I tried to be rational about it. I weighed it in my mind, turned it over, tested it against logic and facts, but it refused to settle. Could she truly be behind this? The last time I checked, Ingrid Bernard was dead. I had orchestrated it myself, watched the process from start to finish, and signed off on the confirmation. I had ensured there were no loose ends and no room for resurrection, talk less of whispers of survival. Her death had been clean and final; as she deserved. Yet, Woodhound was bleeding. The borders had been breached with mastery, records were altered and rogues moved like they had a map of my territory engraved into their bones. It definitely wasn’t coincidence. It was all a big plan which I failed to notice. I believed I had it all under control, but Freya had just made me see the possibility of where I had failed. She made me realize coldly that I had faltered and was slowly

DEXTERA Could it be a coincidence? I sifted through my memories, replaying the incident in vivid detail. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became that it was the same symbol. My head snapped toward Roxanne. “Can I get a pen and paper, please?” She gave me a quizzical look before motioning toward a nearby corner. Moments later, she returned and handed me a small jotter and a pretty-looking ballpoint pen. “What do you need this for?” I smiled, collecting the pieces from her. “You’ll see.” Relying on my memory alone, I sketched a rough but recognizable version of the symbol onto the page. “Does this look familiar to you in any way?” I asked, turning the jotter toward her. She reached for it, studying the sketch I had scribbled down. She stared at it for a while, her gaze flickering between me and the jotter in her fingers. Eventually, Roxanne looked back at me and shook her head. “I don’t think I recognize this in any way.” “Oh,” I muttered, a bit disappointed.

DEXTERA I stayed where I was, half-hidden in the narrow basement passage, my body pressed lightly against the wall as I watched the room ahead. The space opened up wider than I expected. It wasn’t bright exactly. It was just bathed in a muted amber glow that came from crystal sconces embedded into the stone walls. At first glance, it looked like a library, with tall shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. They were packed with books, scrolls, sealed chests, and odd artifacts that glimmered faintly as though they carried a life of their own. But to anyone who thought deeply enough, this wasn’t a place for leisure reading. It was easy for me to tell, despite not being able to see everything clearly from where I stood. My gaze shifted to the large desk positioned at the center of the room, where Elder Vaelorra stood. She had her back partially turned to me, angled just enough for me to see her profile. Spread across the desk was a massive book that looked old and thick. Its

DEXTERA My body ached terribly, and my head throbbed with a splitting headache as I sat on the bed, trying to recall what had happened overnight. The last thing I remembered was Deucalion arriving at Vaelorra's residence and my beast lunging at him. I sifted through my memories, battling the pulsating pain in my head, but nothing came after that. My body finally calmed, and I looked around sharply. I reached toward the bedside table for my alarm clock. Only then did I realize I was in an unfamiliar room. My head snapped in every direction. Where was I? Panic rose within me. “You don't have to be scared. This is my room, and you're in my house.” Deucalion's voice came from the doorway, as though he knew exactly what I was thinking. I felt instant relief. He strode into the room casually, carrying a hot cup of something that smelled like a mixture of herbs. “Not so good,” I answered. He placed the tray on the small stool beside the bed. Then he walked toward the window and

DEXTERA I rested my weight on her desk, lost in thought. Hard to believe, even. To me, the Unspun sounded more like abandoned werewolves the moon goddess discarded without care for. It was probably a good thing to have power capable of affecting the whole supernatural existence, but it was more of a death trap. If such a person existed, the supernatural predators...those who wield the topmost power...would never want such a person to exist. They'll hunt the person till he or she dies so they can remain in control. That realization pushed another question from my lips before I could stop myself. “Why were you waiting for the Unspun descendant?” I asked. “Why search for them at all?” Vaelorra didn’t hesitate. “Because I am one of the Unspun guardians.” I frowned. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” “An Unspun guardian,” she explained, “is one tasked to await the arrival of the last descendant; to guide, support, and protect them for as long as they live.” Unease settl