Semua Bab MARKED BY MY STEPBROTHER : Bab 71 - Bab 80

Chapter 71 Sophie’s POV The sacred ridge had become a battlefield of gods and mortals. The sky above opened more wider, silver and black light pouring through like wounds that just wouldn't stop bleeding. The old bloodlines took vantage points around the ancient altar, and what they were doing there wasn't something that anyone was blind to. There were factions here, and each faction had their own purpose. Shadows came out of the chasm behind the altar, turning into creatures faster than we could destroy them. I stood in the center with Damon on one side and Lucas strapped securely to my chest. The family bond glowed between us, but with the pressure that we were getting from the Convergence, I could feel the strain. A lot of things were happening, you know. My kid didn't want the gods to take him and I didn't want him gone from my sight either. Damon was saying something to me. When I paid attenti

Sophie’s POV The word “Echoes” was right there in the night air like a bad omen. It gave me a very bad feeling you know, the kind of feeling that made the wolf inside me want to snap at the shadows, get ready to tear something apart. Damon’s hand tightened on my waist, a quiet reassurance that he had me, that we had each other. But the troubled expression on Marcus's face told me this wasn’t something we could simply growl at and make disappear. This was something that would definitely growl back at us. “Explain,” Damon ordered, waiting for a response. Marcus stepped fully onto the balcony, keeping his voice down so the pack below wouldn’t catch every word. “They’re not physical at first. The old texts the elders dug up say the Echoes are... leftovers. Pieces of the very first gods that shattered during some ancient war no one remembers. When the Convergence cracked reality, it woke them. They don’t attack with claw

Sophie’s POVThe celebration in the great hall felt like a one beam of light against total darkness. There was laughter, tankards clinked, and pups chased each other between tables, but my eyes kept drifting toward the reinforced nursery wing where Lucas slept under heavy guard. Seven and a half months old and already pulling himself up on furniture, trying to walk with that stubborn determination that reminded me so much of his father. The Spark. That’s what the ancient texts called him now, the living bridge between old prophecies and new things that might happen. I slipped away from the feast quietly, needing to see him. Damon followed without a word, his hand warm on my back. The moment we entered the nursery, I felt relieved. Lucas was awake in his crib, silver eyes, just like Damon’s, filled with curiosity as he gripped the rails and bounced on chubby legs.“Mama,” he babbled happily, reaching out with one tiny hand. A faint golden spark d

Sophie’s POVThe morning after the shadow attack was tense, like heavily tense. No one was saying much at all, probably because they were saving their strengths. Lucas woke early and he was unusually energetic despite the chaos of the previous night. After breakfast, we began training him ourselves. In a warded corner of the garden, shielded by elders and our strongest warriors, we did what we could with his gifts carefully. Lucas sat between us on the grass, clapping as we demonstrated small flares of energy. When he tried to mimic us, a beautiful sphere of golden light formed above his tiny palms, stable and warm, nothing like destruction in there.“He’s incredible,” I whispered, pride swelling. “But every time he uses it, I feel them watching closer.”Damon nodded. “Yeah, the ancient beings are drawn to his light. He'll learn how to control now so he can protect himself later.”A sudden ripple disturbed the air and Lucas’s sphere flickered. A whisper came through, colder than bef

Sophie’s POVThe victory against the shadow entity brought a bit of calm that settled over the mansion like morning mist. For three days, the Echoes were nearly silent, the shadows retreated, and Lucas thrived. He was crawling at impressive speed and pulling himself up on every piece of furniture, determined to walk. His laughter filled the halls as he chased after pack pups who slowed down just for him.I cherished every moment. Mornings were spent in the garden with him, practicing gentle control of his power while Damon oversaw pack training with the relics. Lucas would reach for butterflies or flowers, coaxing them closer with tiny sparks before giggling when they fley away.But on the fourth night, the calm finally seized.I woke up to Lucas crying, not his usual fussy whimper, but a sharp, distressed sound that pulled at my soul. Damon was already out of bed, reaching the crib before me. Our son’s eyes were wide with fear, little hands grasping at the air as golden sparks moved