Chapter 4 The Unraveling

--- # **Chapter Four**

**The Unraveling**

*"It is not cruelty that births a curse. It is what is left behind when devotion rots."* > -The Lost Scrolls of Crescent Hollow ---

The pain started in her sleep. It wasn't sharp, not at first. Not the kind that screamed. But dull-deep-and building like the thrum of distant drums beneath her skin. Seraphina sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in cold sweat. Her hand flew to her chest, where something invisible pulled tight, like a string yanked taut across bone. Her heart raced. Her wolf-Lyra-howled in confusion beneath her ribs. She flung off her silk coverlet and stumbled barefoot to the arched window. Outside, the moon hung swollen over the mountains, glowing with a pale gold sheen. Not red yet. Not full. But something was happening. Something was *wrong*. "Kael," she whispered. And her stomach twisted. The bond-the one she'd felt all her life like a faint flame in her soul-was slipping. Not severed. Not burned. Just... shifted. And it was no longer pointing at her. --- She didn't wait for sunrise. By the time the Crescent Palace stirred, Seraphina was already in the Inner Court, barefoot and wild-eyed, her nightgown trailing like ghost smoke behind her. The marble felt like ice beneath her soles. "Where is the Oracle?" she demanded. The guards scrambled to obey. A few minutes later, the High Oracle entered, flanked by two priestesses and the scent of dried moonroot. Her face was unreadable behind her gauze veil. Seraphina didn't bow. "The bond," she said. "Tell me what's happened." The Oracle regarded her in silence. Then: "The blood moon calls early." "That's not what I asked." "No," the Oracle agreed. "But it is what you *should* ask." Seraphina's hands clenched. "You told me I was the one. That my mark was full. That I was born for the Lycan King." "And so you were," the Oracle murmured. "Then why-why do I feel it fading? Why does he-" She choked on the words. "Why does he feel *distant*?" The Oracle turned her head toward the open court sky. "Because the bond has moved." The floor tilted. "No." "The prophecy never promised certainty," the Oracle said. "Only *possibility*. The Red Wolf may appear as a curse or as divinity. Perhaps... we did not know which you were." The slap echoed through the chamber. Seraphina stood trembling, hand still outstretched, her breath ragged. The Oracle did not flinch. "You felt that pain because something ancient chose someone else," she said softly. "The moon is rewriting the lines." "No," Seraphina whispered again, tears stinging. "No. I am *the one*. I have trained for this. Bled for this. Every rite. Every offering. Every moment of my life. *Mine*." The Oracle's voice was nearly kind. "And still... it was not your soul the bond called home." --- Seraphina didn't remember leaving the court. One moment she was standing in shattered silence. The next, she was sprinting through the training grounds in the east wing, her heart pounding like hooves on stone. She burst into the sparring circle where the Crescent warriors were practicing drills. "Where is he?" she barked. They turned, stunned. "My lady-?" "Where is Kael Thorne?" she screamed. Silence. Then, one of the younger sentries stepped forward, hesitant. "He... he left last night, Princess. Before dawn. Rode east." "Alone?" A nod. "He followed the Moonstone Path." Her blood turned to ice. "Did anyone see who he met?" More silence. Then- "A girl." --- She found her father near the council chambers, in full ceremonial regalia, preparing for a council address. She didn't knock. "The bond has shifted," she said. "He's with someone else." Alpha Rhoan turned slowly, his face unreadable. "I know." Those two words struck harder than the Oracle's. "You knew," she said coldly. "And you said nothing?" "What would you have had me say? That prophecy is a fickle bitch? That fate favors the wild?" Seraphina's throat closed. "You let him *leave* me." "I let him *choose*," Rhoan replied. "Because that is what we all must do when the moon calls." "You could have stopped it!" "Would you have me bind the Lycan King in chains?" he snapped. "Let the realm believe our house clutches at destiny like a beggar at crumbs?" "I'm not crumbs." "No," he said. "You're a flame. But perhaps not the one prophecy chose." --- She ran until her legs gave out. Beyond the palace. Beyond the walls. Into the frost-hewn forest, where the trees bent close like whispers and the snow did not melt. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, pacing, restless. She dropped to her knees beside a frozen creek, sobbing so hard her ribs ached. It wasn't just heartbreak. It was humiliation. All her life, she'd been told she was *meant*. Born under the blood moon. Marked with the goddess's wolf. Betrothed to the king. She had been revered, bowed to, trained in diplomacy and combat, prophecy and history. Her very breath had been measured in sacred hymns. And now... A nameless girl had stolen her place. No. Not *stolen*. The moon had *given it away.* To someone who hadn't earned it. Someone who didn't even *shift*. Something cracked inside Seraphina. Her wolf snarled. And the mark on her thigh-once steady-flared red-hot beneath her skin. --- She returned to the palace as night fell. Not broken. Not defeated. Changed. The same way glass becomes a blade once shattered. --- She didn't return to her chambers. She went to the **Temple of the Forbidden**-the place beneath the Crescent Palace that housed scrolls too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Texts from the days when wolves warred with shadow beasts and the moon walked in human skin. Only the Oracle had the key. But Seraphina didn't ask. She *took* it. --- In the deepest vault, she unrolled a brittle parchment and read by the light of the bloodmoonstone. > *"If the mark divides, and the bond defies, the flame-bearer may claim the darker path. She will be curse and crown, ruin and retribution. A queen of ash."* Seraphina stared at the words. Then, slowly, her lips curled. If the moon wouldn't crown her... She would burn her own throne into existence. ---