Chapter 2 The Rejection.

The village bristled with a strange tension as dusk blanketed the land in shadows. Faint candlelight glimmered through the warped glass of crooked timber homes, painting flickering ghosts on the walls. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth, mingled with the smoke of hearth fires and the distant whisper of wind threading through the ancient trees that circled the settlement like watchful sentinels.

Avelyn moved silently through the cobbled path, her every step weighed down by the dread coiling in her chest. The manor loomed ahead a grim fortress of stone and iron that cut into the darkening sky. It was more than a seat of power; it was a cage of cold authority, a throne built on fear and blood. And within those towering walls waited Malrik Thorne.

Her mate.

Or rather, the man who used to be.

Since inheriting his father's title, Malrik had become something else entirely a ruler hardened by ambition, cloaked in ruthlessness. And now, beside him stood another.

Selina Voss.

She was everything Avelyn had never been molded to be tall, regal, her every step deliberate and oozing power. With skin like porcelain and hair that shimmered like black silk, she looked carved from shadows and secrets. Emerald eyes glinted with cold triumph as she lingered near Malrik, her hand resting possessively on his arm like she'd already conquered the throne that had once belonged to Avelyn's future.

Avelyn paused in the shadows of the grand hall, her breath shallow as she steeled herself. Her heart beat like a war drum in her ears. She stepped forward, the echo of her boots on the stone floor drawing every gaze in the room.

Malrik turned at the sound of her voice.

"Malrik."

His silver eyes locked on her, narrowed and calculating. Whatever warmth they'd once held had long since turned to ice.

"Avelyn," he said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out. "Why her?"

Selina's laughter drifted through the air like poison soft, seductive, and cruel.

"Because unlike you," she sneered, "I don't hide in the shadows."

Avelyn's jaw clenched, but before she could speak, Malrik stepped forward, his tone low and merciless.

"You're weak and unworthy to be my mate and rule by my side," he said, his voice cold enough to freeze bone. "Which is why I therefore reject you as my mate."

The words struck like a blade to the heart. Avelyn's breath caught in her throat as Malrik turned away from her dismissed her as if she were nothing but a shadow under his boot.

He faced the crowd, his voice ringing with cruel finality.

"I have taken a new mate," he announced, "a stronger, more worthy woman. One who will rule with me and bear powerful heirs. Her name is Selina Voss."

Selina walked to his side with a victorious smirk, the very picture of triumph. She looped her arm around his, her presence bold, radiant and mocking.

The villagers erupted in cheer.

No one saw Avelyn's pain.

No one noticed the way her body trembled, or the way her fingers dug into her palms to keep from falling apart. The crowd saw only the spectacle, the celebration, never the soul-shattering grief behind her amber eyes.

The rejection didn't just sting it shattered something sacred inside her. It was as if a part of her had been ripped out, leaving her hollow and cold.

And they rejoiced.

She was left standing there, alone.

Broken.

Forgotten.

---

The next morning, the village square turned into a silent battlefield. Avelyn walked through it, her shoulders stiff despite the crushing weight of humiliation. Whispers chased her like ghosts.

"There she is," someone muttered. "The broken mate."

"Malrik made the right choice," another hissed. "She was never fit to stand beside a lord."

Children echoed the venom of their elders with mocking laughter. "The girl he threw away!"

Men spat at her feet. Elders turned their faces. Once-warm smiles were now replaced by cold indifference and barely hidden scorn.

Avelyn kept her head high, her spine straight.

Let them mock. Let them turn their backs. They had never truly seen her.

Not the fire hidden beneath her silence.

Not the storm waiting in her bones.

---

That night, she wept.

Not for Malrik.

Not for the villagers.

She wept for all the years she had dimmed her own light just to belong. For every time she silenced her voice. For the power she had kept buried beneath her skin, sealed in chains for the sake of peace.

Her fingers traced the faint scars along her arms marks of quiet battles no one had ever witnessed. Not even him.

But now... now something had shifted.

She felt it rise within her. A tide. A storm.

Her blood ancient, wild, and powerful began to stir. Fire surged through her veins, licking at her skin with heat and purpose. No longer suppressed. No longer hidden.

She pressed her hands to her chest and closed her eyes.

She was done being quiet.

Done being small.

---

In the days that followed, she disappeared into the forest where the ancient trees whispered secrets to those who dared listen. There, she trained. She bled. She fought. Her body grew stronger. Her reflexes sharper. Her will unbreakable.

Each strike she threw into the wind was a promise.

Each breath drawn from the earth was a vow.

She was no longer Avelyn the Weak.

She was becoming something else entirely.

And when she returned, it would not be as a girl discarded and forgotten.

It would be as a queen.

One no man would ever dare to reject again.

---