The fortress had never felt so heavy. The stone walls that once echoed with certainty now hummed with doubt, each shadow hiding a whisper, each torch revealing a fracture. Seraphina felt it in the air, thick and choking, as if the pack itself held its breath, waiting for the first blade to fall.
Lyanna had not been executed. Dominic had confined her to her chambers, guarded by warriors sworn to him. Yet even in chains of stone and steel, her presence spread like wildfire. Wolves visited her door under pretense of duty, slipping messages beneath the cracks, passing words that grew into rumors, then promises.
Dominic prowled the halls like a storm contained, his wolf restless, violent. Every night he returned to Seraphina with fury burning in his chest, clawing at him from within. "I should have ended it when I had the chance," he would growl, pacing like a caged predator. "Every hour she breathes, she poisons another."
Seraphina, though her own fears clawed at her heart, would reach for him, grounding him with her touch. "Not yet," she would whisper. "If you kill her now, you lose half the pack. You must be more than their Alpha. You must be their king."
But she felt it too: the rope tightening, the choice narrowing, the inevitability of blood.
---
The first betrayal struck at dawn.
Seraphina was roused by shouts outside their chambers, steel against steel, snarls ripping through the corridors. Dominic was already awake, blade in hand before her eyes had cleared. He flung open the door and the stench of blood poured in.
Warriors clashed in the hall—wolves against wolves. Brothers tearing brothers apart.
"They've broken her free," one guard shouted before a spear silenced him.
Dominic's roar split the air, his wolf surging as he hurled himself into the fray. His claws tore through traitors, his teeth snapped bone, his presence alone a weapon that drove enemies back. But the betrayal had spread too far. For every warrior at his side, two more raised blades against him.
Seraphina's song rose without thought, her voice slicing the chaos like a blade of silver. The traitors faltered, clutching their heads, staggering under the weight of her power. Those loyal to Dominic pressed forward, rallying beneath her call.
Through the madness, Seraphina caught sight of her: Lyanna, freed, her crimson gown drenched in shadows, her smile sharp with triumph. She moved untouched through the slaughter, wolves bending instinctively toward her as if pulled by invisible strings.
Their eyes met across the carnage. Lyanna raised a bloodied dagger in salute, then vanished into the smoke.
---
By the time the sun climbed fully above the horizon, the fortress was divided. Half its halls held by Dominic's loyalists, half seized by Lyanna's rebels. Barricades rose, doors were sealed, and for the first time in centuries, the pack turned inward, waging war upon itself.
Dominic's fury burned, but Seraphina's dread was deeper. This was not a rebellion that could be quenched in a night. Lyanna had cut the pack in two, and each side believed itself the true heir to survival.
That evening, Dominic stood before his council—what remained of it. The air was heavy with blood and smoke, warriors wounded, armor dented. "We strike tonight," Dominic declared, voice iron. "We storm her hold before she gathers more strength."
But Seraphina stepped forward, her voice calm yet unyielding. "If you do, the halls will drown in blood. Every wolf you kill is a brother or son of this pack. Even if you win, what will be left to rule?"
Dominic's eyes blazed. "And if I do nothing, she takes everything."
Their gazes clashed, fire meeting water. Seraphina's heart hammered, torn between love and duty. "There must be another way. Let me speak with her."
The council erupted. Cries of outrage filled the chamber. "She's a traitor!" "She tried to poison you!" "She'll gut you where you stand!"
But Seraphina held Dominic's eyes, silently begging. At last, his jaw tightened, his wolf snarling within, but he gave a single nod. "One chance. You go under guard. If she so much as breathes wrong, I'll burn her alive."
---
Lyanna's chamber had been seized as her court, torches burning high, her wolves gathered like hounds awaiting their mistress. When Seraphina entered, their eyes followed her with loathing. Yet Lyanna herself reclined upon a carved chair as though already crowned, her poise unshaken.
"Well," Lyanna purred, tilting her head, "the little sea witch comes to parley. Tell me, Seraphina, how does it feel to hold a kingdom by the throat, yet know it will never love you?"
Seraphina ignored the barb, stepping closer, her guards tense at her side. "End this, Lyanna. Stop the blood. Whatever grudge you carry, it is not worth the lives of your people."
Lyanna laughed, soft and venomous. "My people? These wolves are mine by birthright. You are the intruder, the usurper. You slithered into his bed, into his crown, and he let you. That is the true betrayal."
Seraphina's voice trembled, not with fear, but with the ache of truth. "This is not about love. This is about power. Admit it."
Lyanna's eyes flashed. "Of course it is about power. Without it, what are we? Prey. Sheep for the slaughter. Dominic has grown weak beneath your touch. He bleeds mercy. I will not."
Her words echoed through the chamber, the wolves around her nodding, their conviction hardening. Seraphina saw it then—Lyanna was no longer fighting for Dominic's heart. She was fighting for the throne itself.
"You'll tear this pack apart," Seraphina whispered.
Lyanna leaned forward, her smile cruel. "Then let it be torn. From ashes, a stronger order will rise."
Seraphina's hands clenched. For a heartbeat, she considered unleashing her song, ending this with one shattering note. But she knew—Lyanna had bound her wolves too deeply. Strike her now, and they would rip Seraphina apart before the sound had faded.
She turned and left, Lyanna's laughter chasing her down the hall like a curse.
---
When Seraphina returned, Dominic's fury was palpable. "You went to plead, not to conquer."
"She will not yield," Seraphina admitted, her voice raw. "She wants the throne. She wants you ruined."
Dominic's fists slammed the table. "Then she has chosen death."
The war began at dusk.
Lyanna's wolves surged through the fortress like a tide, banners torn, teeth bared. Dominic's forces met them in the courtyards, steel clashing, claws rending flesh. The air filled with howls and screams, the stones running slick with blood.
Seraphina stood upon the battlements, her voice carrying over the field, a haunting song that lifted Dominic's warriors, bolstering their spirits, while confusion shattered the rebels' ranks. Yet still they came, endless, driven by Lyanna's will.
At the heart of the chaos, Dominic found her. Lyanna, clad in armor of blackened steel, her blade gleaming red beneath the firelight.
"Coward," she spat, circling him. "Hiding behind your witch."
"And you," Dominic growled, "hiding behind lies."
Their clash shook the courtyard. Alpha against Alpha's blood, strength against cunning. Sparks flew as their blades met, their wolves snarling in unison. Lyanna fought with fury, every strike a venomous promise, every feint a memory of betrayal. Dominic matched her blow for blow, his rage tempered by a deadly precision.
Seraphina's song swelled, wrapping around him like armor, feeding his resolve. Yet Lyanna heard it too, and with every note, her hatred deepened.
"You think she saves you?" Lyanna hissed as their blades locked. "She is your ruin!"
Dominic shoved her back, his voice thunder. "No. She is my strength."
Their fight raged, neither yielding, neither faltering. But in Lyanna's eyes burned something darker than ambition—obsession, madness. She would not stop. Not until Dominic lay broken at her feet.
And Seraphina knew: this battle would not end with surrender. It would end with death.