Chapter 4 THE FALL OF THE AIPHA KING

The battle in the throne room was fierce. Alaric's sword clashed against Kael's with a resounding force, their faces shadowed by the smoke and flames that filled the citadel. Alaric's breath came in heavy gasps, his body sore from the countless battles fought just to reach this moment. But despite his strength, he was outnumbered. The rebels swarmed the throne room, their swords flashing in the firelight, pressing in on him from all sides.

"Is this how it ends, Alaric?" Macus voice was cold, mocking. "You, the so called protector of the kingdom, reduced to this."

Alaric's grip on his sword tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. "You are not my brother anymore, Macus. You have betrayed everything we fought for."

Macus smirked, his eyes gleaming with cold determination. "You were always too weak to understand, Alaric. Power doesn't belong to the kind hearted. It belongs to the strong. And tonight, it's mine."

Alaric fought with everything he had left, but the rebels kept coming, overwhelming him. Blow after blow, he held his ground, refusing to give in. His thoughts raced to his family, to his wife and Caelum. He knew they were fighting, but the thought of them safe was fleeting. The weight of the kingdom on his shoulders only made his resolve stronger. He would fight until his last breath.

But despite his strength, Macus forces were relentless. A sharp pain shot through Alaric's side as a rebel's blade found its mark. He stumbled, blood spilling onto the floor. He glanced up just in time to see Macus raise his sword, ready to strike the final blow.

"No," Alaric whispered, his body trembling as he fought to stay on his feet. "This isn't over."

With a swift movement, Macus plunged his sword into Alaric's chest, a cry escaping his lips as the pain ripped through him. The throne room spun, the sounds of the battle growing distant as Alaric's vision blurred. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp. Macus stood over him, his eyes cold and triumphant. "The kingdom is mine," he said, his voice laced with satisfaction. "The royal bloodline ends tonight."

Alaric's last breath was a rasp, his body lying still as the flames consumed the citadel around him. The throne room, once a place of power and hope, was now a symbol of destruction and betrayal.

Outside, Lyanna's heart raced as she ran through the corridors, Caelum's hand clutched tightly in hers. The citadel was burning behind them, the flames licking at the sky as smoke billowed into the night. She could hear the sounds of the battle still raging, but she had to keep fighting. They had to win. My pups will be safe," she whispered, her voice shaky but firm. "They will find a place where Macus can't reach them as tears gush down her eyes.

But even as she spoke, a dread grew within her. She could feel the eyes of the rebels on her, their pursuit growing closer with every step. She couldn't outrun them forever, but she refused to stop. Not now. Not when her family's future was at stake.

As they neared the hidden passage, a trusted servant stepped out of the shadows. His face was tense, eyes wide with fear. "My lady, we have to move quickly. Macus men are everywhere."

Lyanna nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "Take Caelum to safety. I will hold them off."

"No, my lady," the servant insisted. "You must get out too."

But Lyanna shook her head, determination hardening in her eyes. "I won't leave him (not knowing her husband was dead )Am sad to break this my queen but the king is dead. With a brief nod, the servant grabbed Caelum and hurried down the passage, his footsteps echoing in the distance. Lyanna turned, ready to face whatever came her way. She knew it was only a matter of time before Macus forces caught up to her, but she wouldn't go down without a fight her husband is dead. Her worst fears were realized when she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. Macus men. They had caught up. Lyanna spun around, her sword ready in her hand, but it was no use. They were too many. The rebels swarmed around her, capturing her in a matter of moments. She fought back fiercely, but she was overwhelmed, her strength fading as the rebels dragged her away.

As they hauled her through the burning citadel, Lyanna's mind raced. She had failed. Caelum saw this , but she couldn't protect the kingdom. She couldn't stop Macus. The thought gnawed at her, but she refused to let it show. She would fight to the end, even if it meant her life.

In the heart of the citadel, Macus stood before the throne, his eyes gleaming with triumph. The bloodline had been extinguished. Alaric, the Alpha King, was dead. The kingdom was his, and there was nothing to stand in his way.

He raised his hand, silencing the murmurs of his rebels. "The throne is mine," he declared, his voice cold and unyielding. "And the royal family's bloodline ends tonight."

The crowd fell silent, the weight of Macus words settling over them. The rebellion was no longer just a fight for power-it was a declaration that the old order was gone, replaced by a new one. Macus reign had begun.

But even as he basked in his victory, Macus thoughts were elsewhere. He knew Lyanna was still alive, and that thought gnawed at him. She would never accept him as king. She would never bow to him. He would deal with her soon enough, but for now, he had to solidify his rule.

Lyanna was dragged before the people, her arms bound, her face bruised from the struggle. The crowd fell silent as she was forced to kneel before them. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her eyes were defiant. She refused to show weakness. Even now, when it seemed like everything had been lost, she would not bow to Macus. Macus stood before her, his eyes cold as he looked down at her. "You fought well, Lyanna," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "But it's over now."

Lyanna raised her head, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. "It's never over," she spat. "You will never have the kingdom. You will never have our bloodline."

Kael's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "We will see about that."

With a motion from macus, Lyanna was forced to her feet, the crowd waiting in tense silence. She could feel the weight of their eyes on her, but she would not break. Even as the executioner's blade was raised, she held her head high, defiant until the very end.

As the blade descended, Lyanna's last thoughts were of her twin, what of Caelum, of the kingdom, and of the hope that someday, someone would rise to restore the royal bloodline.