The Bloodline Unveiled
The man lifted his hand, and as he did, the runes carved into the bowl at my feet flared. The thin line of blood I had given moments ago ignited with silver fire, hissing like a serpent, rising higher until it scorched the vaulted ceiling.
Gasps broke out among the Elders. Some stood from their thrones, cloaks sweeping the floor. Others cowered back into their obsidian seats as the fire twisted, shaping itself into the form of a wolf vast, luminous, its eyes molten gold.
I staggered back, but the wolf's gaze fixed on me, and every trembling step froze in place. Because it wasn't just looking at me. It was looking through me. Into the marrow of who I was, into blood I had never known I carried.
The cloaked man's voice rose above the thunder of flame, every syllable ringing with power older than the stones themselves.
"Behold. The last flame of the Lycans, reborn in her veins."
The chamber shook with the words.
"No." Selene's snarl ripped the sweetness from her voice, her mask shattering as she surged forward. Her gown snapped like violet fire, her beauty twisted into fury. "This cannot be. The Lycans are dead. Their blood died with their King!"
The silver wolf above us howled, its cry rattling the walls, shaking dust from the vaulted arches. Its voice was not sound alone it was memory, echo, prophecy. My heart stuttered, every beat louder than the last.
I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Because the wolf's eyes burning, golden, eternal were mine.
One of the Elders fell to his knees. Another whispered a prayer in a tongue I didn't know. But not all were awed.
"She is human-born," one of the sharp-eyed Elders spat, rising to his feet. "This is trickery. Runes, blood-magic, illusions."
The cloaked man turned his hooded face toward him, voice a blade of iron. "Illusions do not burn with the breath of the First Wolves. Illusions do not make fire bow to blood."
The wolf-fire lowered its massive head. Its breath roared hot against my skin, yet instead of burning, it wrapped me in warmth. Recognition. Claim.
I trembled harder. My voice was a whisper, barely mine. "What… what am I?"
The cloaked man lowered his hood at last. His hair was black shot through with silver, his face lined by centuries, his eyes molten with secrets. He looked at me as if he had been waiting all his life for this moment.
"You are Lycan, child," he said, steady and unyielding. "The last of their true blood."
The words crashed through me like thunder. My knees weakened, but Ciaran's arm caught me before I could fall. His body was steel behind me, his growl low, protective, but even he could not mask the storm that flickered in his eyes.
Selene's laugh rang sharp, broken. "Lies! She is nothing fragile, half-blood, human-born! My father raised her among the lesser packs for a reason."
Her words sliced me, but they faltered against the silver wolf that still burned above.
The cloaked man's gaze did not shift. "You fear her because you know what sleeps in her veins. The power your father tried to bury. The fire your crown will never touch."
The council erupted. Voices clashed, some roaring for proof, others crying that the old prophecies were stirring, that the flame had returned. The chamber that had judged me moments ago was splintering apart.
Through it all, Ciaran's hand never left me. His claws had half-formed, his fangs glinting. The King was unraveling, not with doubt of me, but with the knowledge the cloaked man's words forced into the open.
I swallowed hard, my throat raw. "Why now?" I whispered, barely sound. "Why me?"
The cloaked man's eyes softened with something like grief. "Because the blood sleeps until the moon calls it. And now it has."
The fire-wolf lifted its muzzle, howling once more. This time, the sound wasn't only echo it was promise. The ground itself trembled beneath its call.
Selene shrieked, her composure torn to shreds. "She cannot rule! She cannot claim what was erased! I will not"
Her voice broke as the wolf's golden eyes turned on her. For the first time, Selene stumbled back, her confidence cracking under the weight of something she could not charm, could not twist.
The Elders who had once hung on her sweetness now turned uncertain, their gazes darting between her fury and my flame. Whispers rippled through the circle. The tide was shifting.
But the cloaked man's words sealed it. He raised his voice over the chaos, every syllable ringing like a verdict.
"The bloodline the council sought to erase has risen again. You may deny her, but you cannot deny the fire. She is the last flame of the Lycans, and through her, the bond of throne and moon will be tested."
The chamber fell into silence. No one moved. Not even Selene.
The silver wolf bowed its great head once more, pressing its burning muzzle to my chest. My heart thundered so loud it drowned everything else. The fire seeped into me, racing through my veins until I thought I might shatter from its light.
When it pulled back, it dissolved into silver sparks, raining down across the chamber like stars torn from the sky.
The bowl at my feet went dark. The runes stilled. Only my trembling remained.
And the council once certain of my fragility now stared as if I had torn open the past itself.
The cloaked man lowered his hand. His gaze lingered on me, heavy, knowing. "The bloodline is unveiled."
Selene's whisper slid through the silence, trembling with venom. "Then we are already doomed."