Thornak walked deeper into the ruin, stepping through a broken archway into what was left of the main room. In the middle stood a rough altar, stained with old, dried blood. Pieces of bone were scattered on the ground like shattered glass.
Someone is here, Jax growled
Then he felt it.
It wasn't just a feeling, there was someone just beyond the trees.
"Don't move," thornak growled.
The others froze, ready to shift if necessary.
A shadow moved in the trees, quick like a blink. It wasn't a rogue wolf. It was taller, thinner, and looked smarter.
"Karv, signal the others. Ruvan, with me. Dain, flank left."
Thorn's voice was quiet and controlled but inside, his wolf roared, pacing under his skin. There was no fear in him, only focus.
He took a step forward, and just then, someone came out of the trees. They wore gray clothes, and their face was hidden under a hood.
"I wondered when the mighty King of Vargorath would show himself," the figure said, voice echoing through the wind.
Thornak's eyes locked on the stranger. "And who are you to desecrate my borders with this filth?"
The figure chuckled. "I am no one. Merely the hand of a greater force. One that remembers what you Lycans have forgotten."
The wind howled through the trees.
Thornak took a single step forward. "Then let your master hear this, Vargorath doesn't bow. Not to shadows. Not to blood magic. And not to ghosts either."
The figure tilted its head. "We shall see."
And then, it was gone. Just vanished.
Dain emerged a second later from the trees, snarling in his lycan form. "I couldn't get to him. He moved too fast."
Thornak turned back to the others. "He wasn't alone. They're testing us."
Ruvan stepped beside him. "What do we do?"
Thorn's eyes burned gold as he looked toward the north. "We find out what in the goddess's name is going on here."
....
Back in the castle, Prince Aedric strode into the Queen's chambers without waiting to be announced, a folded parchment in hand and a knowing gleam in his eye. The queen sat before a low table, sipping fragrant tea from a delicate silver cup, her expression serene but expectant.
"Well?" she asked, not bothering to look up.
Aedric offered a mocking bow, then held out the parchment. "Information, as requested. Our little guest had quite the humble beginnings. A backwater village near the eastern ridge. Parents are common traders, they move around a lot, no one seems to recall in detail exactly when they arrived in that village."
Maravelle finally lifted her gaze, taking the parchment with dainty fingers. She read in silence, her face betraying no reaction until she reached the end.
"A nobody," she said coldly. "No bloodline. No title. No worth."
"She fought off a pack of rogues, they say," Aedric added with a shrug. "Perhaps she's not entirely helpless."
Maravelle gave him a withering look. "Savage instincts do not make a queen."
Aedric smirked. "Even if she is his mate?"
The queen's eyes turned to ice. "Even then."
She rose, letting the parchment fall to the floor like discarded refuse. "He may be king, but Vargorath is not his alone to command. He forgets what is expected. What is owed to our people. A throne cannot be shared with a girl raised in filth and shadow."
Aedric arched a brow. "Then what will you do, my queen?"
Maravelle moved to the window, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk. "She cannot remain here. I don't care what fate has decided. She is not one of us... and she never will be."
Without another word, she turned to the tall cabinet in the corner. Her fingers danced over its carved edge before she unlocked it with a small ornate key drawn from a hidden pocket in her sleeve. She sifted through scrolls and ledgers until she found the box, An old, dark wooden box, etched with worn sigils. Lifting the lid, she removed a velvet pouch, its weight unmistakable. She tied a folded note to its drawstrings and sealed it with wax.
"Cormac," she called coolly.
The door opened a moment later, boots thudding softly against the stone as her personal and most trusted guard stepped in and bowed.
She turned to him meeting his gaze. "Take this," she said, placing the pouch firmly in his palm. "This is to be delivered. Personally."
Aedric, still leaning by the hearth, watched her with a narrowed gaze. "Now what?"
She didn't look at him. Her hands clasped behind her back, her voice low and certain.
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze with cool authority. "Summon Lady Selene. Discreetly. I would speak with her."
Aedric arched a brow. "oh?"
"She has the breeding. The strength. The poise. Everything Lara lacks," Maravelle said with quiet conviction. "And she was raised to know what it means to serve this kingdom. To stand at a king's side with dignity."
Aedric's smirk deepened. "You intend to remind Thornak what a real queen looks like."
"No." Maravelle crossed the room, pausing just before him. "I intend to remind him what his duty looks like. He may be king, but Vargorath is not his alone to command. He forgets what is expected. What is owed to our people. A throne can only be shared with a powerful Queen."
Aedric watched her with a flicker of something between admiration and wariness. "And if he refuses?"
Maravelle's gaze hardened, lips curling in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Then he will learn the cost of disobedience."
She turned back to the window, where the last light of day bled across the sky like a dying flame. Below, Vargorath stirred with the hum of torches being lit and guards changing post.
"Loyalty can be bought," she murmured. "Fear can be cultivated. But love…" Her voice dropped, laced with scorn. "Love is a luxury a king cannot afford."
Aedric said nothing, sensing the storm beginning to rise behind her calm.