Chapter 4 The Alpha's Matriarch

The next morning dawned with the scent of fresh coffee wafting through the penthouse, sunlight pooling like honey across the marble floors. Seraphina blinked against the brightness, curled beneath satin sheets, a warm arm slung possessively around her waist. Killian was still asleep beside her, for once at peace, his expression softer in the morning light.

She traced a finger along the tattoo on his bicep, the same place her mark had burned just hours ago. Her body was still humming with the aftershock of the prophecy's surge-and of him. But no magic stirred. No curses flared. Just silence.

She smiled faintly. Perhaps, for once, they had time.

But peace never lasted long in the world of Alphas.

A shrill ring shattered the quiet.

Killian groaned, arm tightening around her. "Ignore it."

"It might be important," she whispered, even as she nestled closer.

He dragged the pillow over his face. "Nothing is more important than this bed."

A sharp knock sounded at the penthouse door. Then another. Then-

"Killian Marcus Draven! Open this door this instant or I'll have the damn hinges hexed off!"

Seraphina bolted upright.

Killian didn't move.

"Who the hell-"

He sighed into the pillow. "My mother."

Seraphina blinked. "Your what?"

Before he could explain, the door flung open with a clang, and in swept a woman cloaked in midnight blue silk, her heels clicking like thunder across the floor.

"So this is where my son's been hiding his witch," she said, eyes sweeping over Seraphina like she was a poorly folded bedsheet.

Killian finally sat up, groaning. "Mother, please."

The woman marched straight to the bed, her silver hair twisted into a perfect knot, her posture so rigid it could cut glass. She looked like royalty. And disapproval.

"Get dressed, both of you. This suite smells like sweat, sex, and rebellion."

Seraphina flushed. Killian muttered, "That's because it was all three."

She turned to him, hands on hips. "Is this your idea of preparing for war? Frolicking with curses and witches?"

"Mother, this is my penthouse-"

"Not anymore. I'm moving in."

Seraphina choked. "I'm sorry-what?"

The Alpha Matriarch turned, eyes piercing. "You heard me, child. And if you plan to continue seducing my son into prophecy doom, we're going to have words."

Killian groaned. "She'll never leave now."

And thus began the era of chaos.

---

The first hour of Killian's mother living with them included:

1. Reorganizing his wardrobe.

2. Declaring Seraphina's favorite perfume "far too provocative."

3. Scheduling an emergency family dinner for that evening.

Seraphina found herself in the kitchen mid-afternoon, trying not to murder a woman who had already corrected her three times on how to brew tea. Killian, the coward, had locked himself in his office.

"You stir counterclockwise if you want it to calm the nerves," the Alpha's mother instructed. "Clockwise invites seduction. Which, clearly, you don't need help with."

Seraphina bit her tongue. Barely.

"Do you always invade your son's home unannounced?"

"Only when I sense that fate is being tempted," she replied sweetly. "And don't flatter yourself. I'm here to ensure my family line doesn't implode."

"Implode how?"

She arched a brow. "You're powerful. Dangerous. Marked. And clearly... smitten."

Seraphina narrowed her eyes. "Do you hate witches or just me?"

"I don't hate. I analyze. And I see a young woman on the verge of either greatness or catastrophe. My son has always been reckless with power. Now, he's reckless in love."

Seraphina leaned closer. "Then maybe trust him."

"He's a man. They don't get to make these decisions alone."

The door creaked open behind them.

Killian entered, jaw tight. "Mother, you're making threats again, aren't you?"

She looked innocent. "Me? Never."

He turned to Seraphina. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she said flatly.

He offered a hand. "Come. I need to show you something."

As they walked out, his mother called, "Dinner is at seven. No excuses! And tell her to change that shirt-it screams 'bedroom eyes!'"

---

Killian took her to his private office. He closed the door, exhaled hard, and leaned back against it.

"She's staying in the guest wing."

"Your mother is terrifying."

He laughed darkly. "She once scared a vampire king into canceling a blood feud."

Seraphina flopped onto the couch. "And now she's here... watching us. Judging us. Possibly plotting to have me exorcised."

Killian crossed to her and knelt at her feet. "She'll come around. She just needs time."

"Time? I don't think she wants to like me."

His eyes softened. "Then I'll make her."

She smirked. "Alpha threats don't work on mothers."

"Then I'll just have to be relentless. Like her."

She reached down, threading her fingers into his hair. He rested his head in her lap.

"You really think we can make this work?" she whispered.

"I don't think. I know."

She bent and kissed his forehead. "Then prove it tonight."

He grinned. "Dinner with my mother? That's the real apocalypse."

---

The dinner table was a battlefield.

Killian's mother sat at the head, wine glass in hand, eyes sharp. Killian sat beside Seraphina, one hand discreetly resting on her thigh.

"So," the matriarch began, "tell me, Seraphina. What do you do when you're not seducing ancient prophecies?"

Seraphina sipped her wine. "I read. I garden. I hex assholes. The usual."

A beat of silence.

Then the older woman smiled. "At least you're honest."

Killian nearly choked on his drink.

"And what are your intentions with my son?"

Seraphina met her gaze evenly. "To love him. And maybe ruin his life just a little."

The matriarch laughed. "Well, at least it'll be entertaining."

Killian relaxed slightly. Progress.

As the night wore on, tension simmered but never boiled. The matriarch watched Seraphina like a hawk-but occasionally, something like approval flickered in her gaze.

And when she caught the two of them sneaking off after dessert, she only said:

"Use protection. From fate and babies."

---

Later, in bed, Seraphina curled into Killian's side.

"Your mother's going to be a problem."

"She's always a problem. But she's mine. And now... so are you."

She kissed his chest. "God help us."

Killian pulled her closer.

And despite the drama, the prophecy, and the most terrifying mother-in-law-to-be in history...

That night, they slept without magic. Without prophecy.

Just two hearts, tangled in the quiet before the storm.

The next morning was less forgiving.

Seraphina was woken by the shrill clang of pans and the scent of burned sage-a smell she immediately knew wasn't part of any proper breakfast.

She sat up, bleary-eyed, only to find Killian already out of bed, his side cold.

"Killian?" she called.

A muffled, "In the kitchen!" answered from down the hall.

She groaned, threw on a robe, and padded barefoot across the marble floors. When she entered the kitchen, the scene before her nearly made her turn back.

The Alpha Matriarch stood in the center like a conductor, orchestrating a symphony of chaos. Two terrified-looking house staff bustled around her with trays of ingredients while she herself stirred something aggressively green in a copper pot.

Killian stood to the side, arms crossed, clearly debating if it was worth intervening.

"Morning," Seraphina said slowly.

The Matriarch glanced up. "Ah. The enchantress awakens."

Seraphina ignored the jab. "What... are you making?"

"Breakfast."

"That looks like a potion."

"A tonic. For reproductive cleansing. Clears the path for conception. We used to drink it before bonding rituals. Traditions matter."

Killian choked. "Mother."

"What?" she snapped. "I'm being helpful."

Seraphina crossed to Killian, her voice low. "Did she just say-"

"Yes," he muttered. "Yes, she did."

Killian's mother set the pot down and approached, wiping her hands on a towel like she was about to deliver judgment. "I've scheduled a visit with the seer today. She owes me a favor."

Seraphina blinked. "A seer?"

"She reads emotional bonds. I want her to assess the two of you. See if what you have is love... or just lust enhanced by magic."

Killian stepped between them. "No."

His mother raised a brow. "No?"

"No tests. No assessments. This isn't a courtship ball from the Dark Era. We're not proving anything."

Seraphina's voice was steady. "We don't need her approval."

His mother didn't blink. "You might not. But the Council will."

Seraphina's pulse quickened. "The Council?"

Killian cursed under his breath. "You told them?"

"Of course I told them. You're an Alpha bonded to a witch marked by prophecy. They're already preparing for inquiry."

Seraphina's stomach dropped. "They think I'm a threat."

"You are a threat," the matriarch said bluntly. "To their control. To balance. To history."

Killian gripped the counter, knuckles white. "Mother, enough."

But Seraphina didn't flinch. She stepped forward, voice calm but cold. "Then let them come. Let them test me, question me, strip me bare with their archaic laws. I won't break."

The Matriarch studied her for a moment. "We'll see."

Then she turned and resumed stirring the green tonic, as if the conversation had been nothing more than a morning nicety.

---

By noon, the tension had become a third presence in the penthouse.

Seraphina found herself in the library, pretending to read while her thoughts raced. The Council. Public scrutiny. The weight of a thousand years of war and peace tipping on her shoulders.

She didn't fear magic.

She feared bureaucracy.

"Stop pacing," Killian said from the window. He hadn't left her side since breakfast, his Alpha instincts on high alert.

"She wants to test us like we're a lab experiment," Seraphina muttered. "She thinks I'm going to explode or corrupt you or both."

"She's wrong."

"But she has power."

Killian crossed to her and took her hands. "Not over us. Not unless we let her."

"Are you sure? Because I'm starting to think your mother doesn't ask for permission-she declares war in pearls."

"She's an unstoppable force."

"And I'm an immovable object."

He grinned. "So what happens when those two meet?"

"Apparently, they make tea that stinks like dragon's breath."

They laughed, the sound breaking through the pressure building around them like sunlight through storm clouds.

"I love you," he said quietly.

Seraphina blinked, heart stuttering. "That's the first time you've said that."

"I mean it."

She smiled. "I know. I just didn't expect it to come right after your mother offered us fertility tonic."

"I figured I should establish my sincerity before the Council accuses us of ruining the lineage."

She leaned into him. "You always say the most romantic things."

---

That afternoon, the Matriarch's seer arrived.

The woman was older than time, with eyes like cracked moonstone and fingers that trembled when she touched Seraphina's wrist.

They sat in the parlor while the Matriarch observed silently, a hawk in silk.

The seer murmured ancient words, her touch ghosting across Seraphina's pulse.

Then she touched Killian's chest.

A flicker of light bloomed between them. Pale gold. Warm.

Then it deepened to violet.

The seer inhaled sharply.

"What does that mean?" Killian asked.

The woman's voice was thin, raspy. "Love laced with ruin. Passion tangled in prophecy. This bond will either save or destroy everything."

The Matriarch narrowed her eyes. "So it's unstable."

"No," the seer said, staring at Seraphina. "It's destined. That's worse."

---

That night, Seraphina stood on the balcony, wind tugging her hair back. Below, the city glittered, oblivious to the storms building in the sky.

Killian joined her quietly.

"She believes in us," Seraphina said softly. "In her own terrifying way."

"She believes in control. In survival. And she sees you as a wild card."

"I am."

He reached for her hand. "And I've never wanted anything more."

They stood in silence as thunder rumbled far in the distance.

---

Two days later, the Council summoned them.

A formal inquiry. Not quite a trial. But not far from it.

Killian wanted to ignore it.

Seraphina refused.

"If they fear what we are, they should look me in the eyes while they do it."

The Matriarch watched them prepare from the dining room, sipping tea with the calm of a queen at execution.

"You'll need to wear white," she said.

Seraphina raised a brow. "Why?"

"Symbolism. Innocence. Unity. Purity."

"I am none of those things."

"And that," the older woman said, "is exactly why you must pretend."

---

The inquiry hall was carved from obsidian and old magic.

Twelve high seats surrounded a glowing rune circle.

Seraphina walked into the center, clothed in white.

Killian stood beside her, dressed in Alpha black.

The Council asked questions. About her past. Her power. The mark on her chest. The night of the prophecy.

They asked about love.

They asked about loyalty.

They asked if she would kneel if it meant preserving peace.

Seraphina's voice never wavered.

"I'll kneel to no one but fate itself. And even then, it'll have to fight me for it."

A silence followed.

Then the head councilor nodded. "We will consider the union... provisional. Watched. Not forbidden."

They were dismissed.

Alive. Intact. Unbroken.

---

Back at the penthouse, the Matriarch waited.

"Well," she said. "You're not exiled. That's something."

Killian glared. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She smirked. "A little."

Seraphina stepped forward. "We're stronger than you think."

The older woman studied her, then slowly nodded. "Perhaps. But strength isn't always enough. Love, Seraphina, must be ruthless."

Seraphina met her gaze. "Good. Because I am."

A pause.

Then the Matriarch smiled.

For real this time.

---

Later that night, after the city had quieted and the storm had rolled through, Killian pulled Seraphina back into bed.

"Still want to run?" he whispered.

She kissed his jaw. "Only if you're running with me."

"I'd burn the world to keep you."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

And as sleep claimed them, Seraphina felt something shift. Not in the air. Not in the magic.

But in herself.

For the first time, she didn't feel cursed.

She felt chosen.

And she would prove to everyone-Council, prophecy, matriarch, and fate-that she was worthy of the love she'd found and the power she refused to fear.

The rain had stopped, but the aftermath lingered.

Outside, the city wore a sheen of silver mist, the streets glistening like they had been polished clean. But inside the penthouse, the air was heavy with something unspoken-peace, yes, but also the unrelenting awareness that it was temporary.

Seraphina lay curled against Killian's chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. She traced a finger across the scar just under his collarbone-an old wound, faded, but still sharp beneath her touch.

"How did you get this one?" she murmured.

He glanced down, brushing his lips against her hair. "Pack war. Before I became Alpha. The old Alpha sent us into a blood feud we didn't start. I took a blade for someone who didn't survive."

She stilled. "You never talk about that."

"I don't like who I was back then. Angry. Reckless. Dead behind the eyes." He paused. "Until you."

She tilted her chin to meet his gaze. "I'm not your redemption story."

He smiled faintly. "No. You're the reason I don't need one anymore."

A quiet settled over them. Then she asked, softly, "What if they're right, Killian? What if this bond is... too much?"

He rolled on top of her, holding her wrists gently above her head, his weight both anchoring and igniting her. "Then we'll be too much together."

She arched slightly beneath him. "You always have a poetic answer."

"No, I just know the truth when I see it."

Their kiss was slow this time. Not frantic or desperate like their earlier ones, but filled with understanding-a quiet, burning promise made flesh. There were no shadows between them now, no barriers or held-back truths. Just fire. And acceptance.

Afterward, as she lay breathless and flushed, her fingers tangled in his hair, she whispered, "I'm not afraid of them."

Killian didn't open his eyes, just murmured against her skin, "Good. Because they should be afraid of you."

---

But peace was never built to last.

The next morning, Killian received a call.

He answered with clipped tones while Seraphina sipped her tea by the window. From the stiff line of his shoulders and the sudden tension in his jaw, she knew something was wrong.

"What is it?" she asked once he hung up.

"An attack."

Her cup paused midair. "On the city?"

"No." He met her eyes. "On the Crescent Valley Outpost. Near the northern border."

Seraphina felt the magic inside her stir. "That's pack territory."

"It was. Now it's burning."

She stood, already moving. "I'm going with you."

Killian shook his head. "No."

"Don't you dare," she warned.

"This isn't about protection. It's about perception. If you show up at an outpost still loyal to the Old Guard, they'll see it as provocation. They'll see you as the threat."

"I am a threat."

He closed the distance between them in three strides. "Not to me. Not to us. But to them? Yes. And right now, I need them to listen, not rebel."

She clenched her fists. "I won't sit in this penthouse while your world burns around you."

"I'm not asking you to sit. I'm asking you to prepare."

"For what?"

Killian looked out the window, toward the rising smoke in the far distance. "For war."

---

An hour later, the Matriarch summoned Seraphina to the rooftop garden. A strange meeting place, but the woman was rarely predictable.

Seraphina found her pruning black roses, their petals laced with silver frost.

"I hear you want to charge into battle," the Matriarch said without turning around.

"I'm not the type to wait for blood to come to my doorstep."

The Matriarch clipped a stem. "You remind me of her."

"Who?"

"My late mate." The woman finally faced her. "She had your fire. Your recklessness. She believed love could conquer anything."

Seraphina studied her. "Did it?"

"No." A pause. "But it almost did."

They stood in silence as the wind swept through the garden.

The Matriarch finally sighed. "If you're truly going to stand beside my son... you need to understand what that means. Being Luna isn't about love. It's about strategy. Loyalty. Sacrifice."

Seraphina met her gaze. "I've lost more than you know. But I haven't broken. Not yet."

The Matriarch nodded. "Then don't. Because when the council turns on you-and they will-it won't be your magic that saves you."

"What will?"

"Your ability to survive the betrayal."

---

By nightfall, Killian had left with his elite enforcers to handle the attack. Seraphina stood on the rooftop, watching the stars rise. Alone.

But not unguarded.

A soft rustle behind her.

"You shouldn't be out here," came a voice.

She turned.

It was Darius-the Matriarch's most trusted shadow, and the man who'd once served as Killian's second. Now a ghost in the halls.

"I thought you vanished," she said.

"I go where I'm needed." His eyes were strange-amber, half feral. "And you'll need me soon."

"For what?"

He stepped closer. "There's more to that prophecy than even Killian knows. The mark you bear-it isn't just a curse. It's a key."

Seraphina's spine stiffened. "To what?"

"To the Underrealm. To what lies beyond the Alpha bloodlines. There's a reason the Council fears you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because when the world burns again..." He reached into his coat and handed her a small obsidian pendant carved with runes. "You'll need allies who don't answer to thrones."

Seraphina took the pendant, the stone warm in her palm. "You believe in me?"

"I believe in chaos," Darius said with a half-smile. "And you, Seraphina, were born to unmake the order."

---

As the city lights dimmed and the whispers of unrest began to circle the northern borders, Seraphina stood in her white robe, obsidian pendant in one hand, and a silent vow burning in her blood.

They wanted to test her.

She would give them fire.

Chapter 3: The Alpha's Matriarch (Continued)

The city had begun to stir, but the pulse that ran through its undercurrent wasn't one of peace. It was tension-taut, electric, and barely restrained. The kind of energy that warned of storms not of weather, but of blood and betrayal.

Seraphina stayed at the edge of the rooftop garden long after Darius vanished into the shadows again. She clutched the obsidian pendant, now pulsing faintly with heat, like it recognized her. Or responded to her growing power.

Below, the city whispered. She felt it. Not through sound, but in the way the wind carried stray thoughts and emotions-fear, longing, hunger, rage. Magic still clung to her skin like smoke. The remnants of their bond. Of Killian's touch. But also of something more ancient, deeper, clawing to surface.

The bond had awakened her... but something else was awakening with it.

She turned just as the door to the rooftop creaked open.

A maid stepped through, breathless. "My Lady. You have a visitor."

Seraphina raised a brow. "At this hour?"

The maid hesitated. "She insisted. Said it was family business."

Seraphina descended the rooftop like a queen returning from war, barefoot, still robed in white, her eyes catching glints of starlight. She entered the lounge to find a woman seated by the fireplace-tall, severe, wrapped in a dark green shawl with fingers that looked like they'd held both knives and lovers.

The woman rose. "So. You're the girl who conquered my son."

Seraphina blinked. "And you are?"

"I'm Killian's aunt. On his mother's side. Which makes me a problem you'll need to manage carefully."

Seraphina didn't flinch. "I'm not in the business of managing problems. I end them."

The woman smiled. "I like you already. But let me ask-do you know what's coming?"

Seraphina said nothing.

"The Matriarch doesn't rule with love. She rules with legacy. And when you threaten that legacy... well." She drew closer, fingers brushing Seraphina's arm with the intimacy of danger. "Blood spills."

The week passed in fragments.

Killian had not returned. His messages came only through encrypted channels. One line each time:

Hold the line.

Each word from him became scripture. She read them under moonlight like prayers. But each one only deepened the ache in her chest.

The Council had gone quiet. Too quiet.

On the fifth day, Seraphina ventured to the archives beneath the Citadel Tower. Few remembered they existed, fewer dared enter without permission. She wore no disguise. Let them see her.

The keepers bowed but didn't stop her.

She sought the oldest scrolls, written in the tongue of the Firstbloods. She read by flame, the pages brittle and inked in spells designed to bind fate. And there, she saw it:

"When the Moon bleeds and the Alpha bows to flame, the cursed bride shall rise... bearing the mark of Endings and the Key of Return."

The obsidian pendant glowed faintly at her breast.

She wasn't just bonded. She was chosen.

That night, the dreams came again. But this time, she wasn't the one burning. Killian stood on a battlefield, shirtless, wounded, eyes wild with fury. Shadows surged behind him-beasts made of smoke and bone.

And then she heard it.

Her name.

Screamed.

From his lips.

She woke gasping, drenched in sweat. The pendant burned against her skin.

Outside, the skies had turned the color of bruises.

She summoned the Matriarch the next morning.

The older woman came dressed in mourning black, as if she already knew.

"Something's wrong," Seraphina said, pacing the war room. "Killian's gone dark. The council's in hiding. And the northern territories haven't reported back in days."

The Matriarch folded her hands. "The old guard moves in silence before it strikes. They are buying time. Trying to turn the outer circles against us."

"And what are you doing?" Seraphina challenged. "Trimming roses while the kingdom falls apart?"

The Matriarch's eyes blazed. "You forget yourself."

"No," Seraphina snapped. "I'm remembering who I am. And what I'm meant to do."

The Matriarch rose. "Then stop dancing in circles and lead."

Seraphina breathed hard. Then turned.

"I want the Luna Court assembled. I want a map of troop loyalties. And I want every enforcer who still wears our crest to swear allegiance-to me."

"You're not Luna yet," the Matriarch warned.

"I will be," Seraphina said. "By right of bond. By mark of prophecy. And by blood, if necessary."

She stood in the great hall two days later, in full ceremonial armor-silver and crimson, etched with flame sigils. The obsidian pendant hung like a talisman over her heart.

The Luna Court gathered.

Whispers rippled. Doubts stirred.

Until she stepped forward and said only four words:

"Killian is not dead."

Gasps. Silence. Then a snort from one of the old crones. "And you know this how, girl?"

Seraphina raised her chin. "Because I hear him. In my dreams. Because our bond still sings. And because I would know if he fell. In here." She pointed to her heart. "I would shatter."

Another voice-male, brittle, tired. "Even if he lives, what good is he? The North is gone."

"No," Seraphina said. "They think we're scattered. But we're only coiled. Ready."

She slammed her palm against the ancient crest of the Crescent Pack. Her magic flared-not in rage, but in unity. The wolves present felt it. The floor trembled.

And one by one... they knelt.

At midnight, a lone messenger stumbled into the gates, half-mad with fever. Burn marks on his flesh, eyes bloodshot.

He bore Killian's crest. And a warning:

"Betrayal. In the East. The Council moves to crown a new Alpha-without bloodline. Without challenge."

Seraphina's heart went still.

"They're calling it a Reclamation. A return to the old ways. They've promised protection from your curse... if the packs denounce you."

She stared into the fire. "And Killian?"

"Alive. Imprisoned. But they're using him as proof-that the bond weakens him."

Seraphina turned to the Matriarch, who had paled.

"It's begun," the older woman whispered.

"Yes," Seraphina said. "And it ends with fire."

The war room turned into a hive.

Maps were redrawn. Alliances formed in hours that would normally take years.

The Crescent Guard-those still loyal-armed themselves under the symbol of the flame.

Seraphina trained twice daily. Her magic evolved. She no longer needed incantations. Her will bent steel. Her presence compelled silence. And at her back stood Darius, ever the shadow, ever the whisper.

He showed her the secret ways. The Underpaths. The Blood Gates. The ancient places of power hidden beneath the city.

"Your kind were never meant to bow," he said one night as they stood in the chamber of Echoes.

"And Killian?" she asked. "What if they've broken him?"

Darius met her gaze. "Then you remind him who he is. The Alpha who bent fate to kiss a cursed bride."

She closed her eyes.

And made her decision.

She left at dawn. Cloaked. Armed. Silent.

Only the Matriarch knew.

"You're walking into a trap," the older woman warned.

"I know."

"Then why go alone?"

"Because I'm not alone," Seraphina said, touching her heart. "Not where it matters."

She crossed the rivers in secret. Slipped through rebel wards. Her magic masked her scent. Her thoughts. Her presence.

Until she stood before the Iron Bastion-prison fortress of the Council.

She raised her hand.

And the gates exploded in fire.

Inside, chaos. Guards scrambled. Alarms wailed.

Seraphina moved like a phantom. Walls scorched in her wake. She found the inner chamber-barred, spellbound.

And behind it...

Killian.

Shackled. Bloody. But alive. Eyes still defiant.

His head snapped up as she entered.

"Seraphina?"

She didn't speak. Just raised her hand.

The chains melted like wax.

He stumbled forward. Into her arms.

"Gods, I thought-"

She kissed him hard. Then pulled back.

"No time. We're still in danger."

"Not just us," he said. "They've summoned something. An ancient one. To use against you."

"What?"

But before he could answer, the chamber shook. A scream-inhuman, ancient, echoed through the stone.

Seraphina whirled.

And from the shadows, a figure emerged.

Not a man.

Not a wolf.

But something older. Hungrier.

Its eyes glowed like suns gone black.

And it whispered one word:

"Bride."

The creature stepped from the shadows with grace that mocked mortality-liquid, languid, predatory. Its skin shimmered like obsidian dusted in starlight, a shifting cloak of darkness that devoured light. No scent, no heartbeat. Just... hunger.

Seraphina braced herself, angling her body between the creature and Killian.

Its lips twisted into a parody of a smile. "You wear his mark," it whispered, voice sliding over her skin like poisoned silk. "But it is not his blood that binds you."

Killian stumbled to her side, weakened but still fierce. "It's a Revenant," he rasped. "A soul that was never meant to return."

Seraphina's breath caught. Revenants were myth-warriors or beasts who'd defied death, corrupted by time and ancient magic. If the Council had summoned one, it meant desperation.

Or worse-intention.

"You summoned this?" she growled, addressing the shadows beyond the chamber, feeling them stir, unseen eyes watching.

The creature chuckled. "Summoned? No. I was released. The curse in your blood... is a key. And now that key has unlocked my prison."

Killian swayed. "They didn't bind it. They baited it-with you."

Seraphina's pulse thundered. The obsidian pendant flared hot against her skin. The prophecy-the cursed bride shall rise... bearing the mark of Endings and the Key of Return.

Not just a mark. A prison key.

She'd broken something ancient. Something dangerous. And now it had come for her.

"For centuries I slept," the Revenant said, drifting forward. Its form flickered-wolf, woman, beast, shadow. "Waiting for the flame to walk again. Waiting for her."

It raised a clawed hand toward Seraphina's chest. The pendant pulsed violently.

Killian growled. "Stay back!"

The Revenant ignored him. "You burn with the soul of she who first defied fate. The first cursed Alpha bride. Do you not feel her rage singing in your bones?"

Seraphina's vision blurred. Flame licked up her arms-uncontrolled, wild, alive. A scream clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it down.

"I am not your key," she hissed. "And I will not be your host."

The Revenant blinked slowly. "You already are."

Then it vanished. Not with a scream, not with fire-but with silence. The kind that steals breath and breaks minds.

Seraphina collapsed to one knee.

Killian caught her, shaking. "You felt it?"

She nodded. "It's inside me. Watching."

"Then we have to leave. Now."

They fled the Bastion through collapsed tunnels and old magic. Seraphina's powers lit their way-sometimes torch, sometimes weapon. Every step carved deeper into her resolve.

Killian could barely stand, but he kept pace.

"I didn't break," he said at last. "They tried. Mind spells. Torture. Images of you dying."

She stopped long enough to kiss his brow. "You held the line."

His fingers twitched around hers. "And you brought the fire."

Hours later, they reached the cliffside ruins north of the city. The Matriarch was waiting, cloaked and grim.

"You've been marked," she said without preamble, eyes narrowing on Seraphina.

"I released it," Seraphina said. "And now it's bound to me."

The Matriarch stepped forward and drew a blade across her palm, letting the blood drip onto the stones. "Then we have no time. The Binding must begin."

Seraphina's heart pounded. "What binding?"

The Matriarch gestured toward a circle of ancient runes etched into the stone floor. "The only thing that can trap a Revenant again is what birthed it-blood, flame, and choice."

"You want me to bind it inside me?"

"No," the older woman said. "I want you to become what it fears."

Killian tensed. "You're asking her to ascend. Before the Luna Rite."

"She doesn't have a choice," the Matriarch snapped. "None of us do."

Seraphina stepped into the circle.

The flames within her flared to life.

Killian reached for her-but the circle pulsed and flung him back.

Pain crashed through her as magic seared her skin. Visions hit her like lightning-herself in chains, in crowns, in fire. A woman of old, dressed in moonlight and flame, screaming as wolves tore her apart.

The first cursed bride.

She saw her life. Her pain. Her wrath.

And then... she saw herself. Not just as Seraphina, but as something older. Greater. Hungrier.

The runes exploded into golden fire. The sky cracked with thunder.

And her scream echoed across realms.

When the flames died down, she stood in silence.

Changed.

The Matriarch bowed her head. "Luna."

Killian's voice was soft. "Seraphina?"

She turned to him slowly.

And her eyes were no longer entirely her own.

Not gold. Not wolf.

But molten obsidian-like the pendant. Like the Revenant.

"I'm still me," she said. But her voice echoed.

Killian stepped forward. Touched her cheek. "What did you see?"

"The truth," she whispered. "They didn't curse me to destroy the pack. They cursed me... to save it. Because only a curse can fight a Revenant."

The wind howled.

The pendant shattered.

Seraphina gasped-pain blooming in her chest.

Killian caught her before she hit the stone. Blood spilled from her nose. From her eyes.

And then... her shadow moved.

On its own.

It rose from the ground-taller, darker, with eyes like starless voids.

The Revenant's voice filled the air.

"Bride."

Killian snarled and stood between them.

"You'll have to go through me."

The Revenant tilted its head. "Gladly."

It lunged-

-and Seraphina screamed.

But it wasn't pain that burst from her chest.

It was fire.

Not red. Not gold.

But blue.

Cold. Pure. Ancient.

It slammed into the Revenant, hurling it back with a scream that fractured the mountainside.

Silence followed.

Seraphina's body hit the floor, unmoving.

Killian rushed to her side, but her skin was ice.

"No. No, no, no..."

He held her, rocking her body in his arms.

Behind him, the Matriarch's eyes widened.

"She's not breathing."

Killian lowered his head, lips brushing hers.

"Come back," he whispered. "Come back to me."

The wind rose. The sky cracked.

And then...

Her body arched.

Eyes opened.

And they glowed-not obsidian.

But silver.

She gasped.

And her voice echoed with two tones.

"I saw it."

Killian blinked. "What?"

"The Revenant's real name. Its face. Its master."

The Matriarch whispered, "Who?"

Seraphina turned.

And pointed north.

"To the Council. They've already made the pact."

Killian froze. "What pact?"

Her next words were quiet.

But they detonated in the soul.

"They're not trying to replace Killian. They're trying to replace me. With another cursed bride."

The firelight flickered.

The shadow behind her smiled.

And from deep within the night came a howl-

one not of wolves...

but of something far more terrifying.

Something coming.

For them all.