009

The restraints bit into Elowen’s wrists as she struggled, the rough leather digging deeper with every frantic pull.

Her body was stretched against the board, arms pinned above her head, ankles secured so tightly she could barely move.

Panic clawed its way up her chest, sharp and suffocating, her breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as she twisted uselessly against the bindings.

“No—no, please!” Her voice cracked, desperation tearing through every word as she fought against the inevitable. “Let me go! Please!”

Her gaze snapped toward Zevrian first, locking onto him like he was her last anchor. “Zevrian, you said…” her voice broke, swallowing hard before forcing the words out again, “you said you had a way out. You promised!”

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression. It was quick—so quick she almost thought she imagined it.

Then he looked away.

That hurt more than anything.

“Zevrian!” she screamed, her voice rising, cracking under the weight of betrayal. “Don’t do this! Don’t just stand there!”

But he didn’t respond.

Didn’t even look at her again.

Her chest tightened painfully as her eyes burned with fresh tears. She turned her head desperately, searching for someone—anyone—who would stop this.

“Ellion!” she cried out.

He was already on his feet, his face pale, his hands clenched at his sides as he stepped forward. “Grandfather, we can’t do this,” he said, his voice strained but firm. “There has to be another way. This—this isn’t right.”

Grand Alpha Sylas didn’t even glance at him. “We have slaughtered millions of her kind,” he said coldly. “What hesitation could you possibly have toward this one?”

Ellion’s jaw tightened. “Because we’re not animals,” he shot back. “We don’t just kill someone because it’s convenient!”

“Grandfather, there has to be another way. We don't have to do this.” Zevrian finally spoke.

A bitter scoff came from the side.

Draven leaned back in his chair, his expression dark, his eyes flicking between them. “That’s interesting,” he said slowly. “You didn’t seem to think about morality when you were all ready to go through with the bonding. Funny how that works.”

Zevrian’s gaze snapped to him. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice low but controlled.

Draven laughed. “You didn’t know? Or you didn’t care as long as you got what you wanted?” He leaned forward slightly, his tone turning cutting. “You were ready to sacrifice all of us for a chance at the throne, and now suddenly you have a conscience?”

Zevrian’s expression hardened, but before he could respond, a low chuckle broke through the tension.

Kaelen.

Elowen’s head turned slightly, her breath catching as she looked at him. He hadn’t moved from his seat, his posture relaxed, one arm draped lazily over the side of the chair. But his eyes—his eyes were sharp, watching everything with a kind of dark amusement.

“Finally,” he said, his voice smooth, almost pleased. “This is getting interesting.”

A chill ran down her spine.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her like she was already dead. “If you don't have balls to do it,” he added casually, “I’ll do it myself.”

Her stomach dropped.

“No,” Ellion said quickly, stepping forward again. “No, that’s not happening.”

Grand Alpha Sylas raised a hand, silencing them all. Then he clapped twice.

The sound echoed sharply through the hall, final and commanding.

The doors opened again, and a servant girl walked in, her steps hesitant as she carried a large bowl filled with a dark liquid that sloshed slightly with each movement.

Elowen’s breath caught, the recognition hitting her like a blow. “Lysara?” she gasped, her voice trembling.

The girl’s head snapped up at the sound of her name. Her eyes widened instantly, shock flooding her expression as she stared at Elowen strapped to the board.

“Elowen?” she whispered, her hands shaking so badly the bowl nearly slipped from her grip. She caught it just in time, her breathing uneven as she took a step forward. “What—what is happening?”

“Help me!” Elowen cried, her voice breaking completely now. “Lysara, please—don’t let them do this!”

Lysara looked between her and the elders, her face pale with confusion and fear.

“Bring it forward!” Grand Alpha Sylas barked.

The sharpness of his voice made Lysara flinch. She hesitated for a second longer, then slowly obeyed, her steps uncertain as she approached the platform. Her hands trembled as she held the bowl out in front of her.

Sylas descended and took it without a word.

The movement alone sent a wave of dread crashing through Elowen. She shook her head frantically, her body jerking against the restraints again.

“No—no, please…”

A hand grabbed her jaw roughly, forcing her mouth open. Before she could protest further, something was shoved between her teeth, silencing her instantly. The gag pressed hard against her tongue, cutting off her screams, leaving only muffled, desperate sounds as tears streamed down her face.

Her chest heaved, panic spiraling out of control as her eyes darted wildly around the room.

Lysara stood frozen, her hands still slightly raised like she didn’t know what to do with them, her gaze locked on Elowen’s terrified face.

Sylas approached slowly, the bowl in one hand.

Up close, he looked even more terrifying.

His eyes were cold, his expression set, his presence heavy with something ancient and unyielding.

Then, without warning, black claws extended from his fingers, sharp and glinting under the light.

Elowen’s entire body went rigid.

“Your blood,” he said, his voice calm but laced with something darker, “is poison to us. Human. Weak. Useless.”

Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes again.

“But,” he continued, tilting his head slightly as he studied her, “if the Moon Goddess chose you… then perhaps your blood holds more value than we believed.”

He raised his hand.

Elowen shook her head violently, her muffled cries desperate and broken as she stared at Lysara, silently begging her to do something—anything.

Lysara’s lips parted, her body trembling like she might step forward.

But she didn’t move.

Sylas’s claw hovered just above Elowen’s throat.

And then, the world shifted.

A sudden burst of light exploded through the room, blinding and sharp. It lasted only a second—a single flash—but it was enough to make everyone recoil.

Then it was gone.

The silence that followed was heavier than before.

Confused murmurs rippled through the hall as everyone looked around, trying to understand what had just happened.

And then, a soft thud.

All eyes turned.

Lysara was on the floor.

Her body trembled violently, her back arching slightly as the faint markings on her skin began to glow beneath her skin. They spread slowly, like veins of light tracing patterns no one in the room could fully understand.

Elowen’s breathing hitched behind the gag, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Lysara…” she mumbled weakly.

The girl’s body stilled.

Then, slowly—too slowly—she pushed herself up.

When she lifted her head, her eyes were no longer her own.

They were white.

Completely white.

A ripple of fear moved through the room.

Mother Elvya stood abruptly and rushed forward. Then, without hesitation, she dropped to her knees.

“The Moon Goddess…” she whispered, her voice shaking with reverence. “She is here. She is here.”

Lady Isla followed almost immediately, her composure breaking as she lowered herself as well. “Lunaris Deity,” she breathed.

Even Grand Alpha Sylas stepped back, then lowered himself to his knees, his head bowing.

The brothers remained where they were.

Watching. AndWaiting.

Lysara—or whatever now occupied her—stood fully upright.

Her presence had changed completely.

The fear, the confusion, the hesitation—it was all gone. In its place was something vast. Something ancient. Something that pressed down on the room like a storm waiting to break.

When she spoke, her voice wasn’t entirely hers.

It echoed.

Layered.

Powerful enough to make the air feel heavier.

“How dare you,” she said, each word slow and deliberate.

No one moved.

“How dare you go against me?”

The ground seemed to hum beneath their feet.

Her gaze swept across the room, landing on each of them in turn, and when it passed over Elowen, something in it softened for just a fraction of a second before hardening again.

“You were given victory,” she continued, her voice rising slightly. “You were given power. You were given dominion.”

The light beneath her skin pulsed faintly.

“And this is how you repay me?” she demanded. “By defying the very thing you begged for?”

No one dared answer.

Her lips curled slightly, her expression turning cold, furious.

“I will destroy you,” she said.

The words landed like a sentence.

“Every last one of you.”

“And when I am done,” she continued, her voice echoing through the hall, “your lands will belong to the humans you so carelessly slaughtered.”

A faint, terrifying smile touched her lips.

“They will feast on your flesh,” she said. “And your souls… will not find peace.”

A pause.

Then, colder.

“Even in death… you will suffer.”