The Hidden Past
"Then let her burn with it."
Selene's whisper slithered across the chamber, venom trembling in every syllable.
But before the echoes could settle, the cloaked man raised his hand. The air stilled, heavy as stone. His voice was low, but it cut through her spite like a blade through silk.
"You would have her burn, child? Then listen well for it is your father who stoked the fire that brought her here."
The chamber shuddered at his words. Even the Elders leaned forward, hungry for what came next.
The man's eyes molten, grief-lined, unyielding found mine. "You wish to know why you stand in this hall, trembling between ruin and revelation? Then hear the truth your blood remembers, though your mind does not."
The torches dimmed as he spoke, shadows curling around his voice. And suddenly, the chamber was gone. The stone, the council, the silver bowl all blurred into darkness. Only his voice remained, carrying me backward, into a story buried in ash.
The moon was red the night your mother fled.
The Lycans your kin were hunted to their extinction, betrayed by those they once called allies. Steel burned, fire spread, and the rivers ran dark with their blood. Their King fell beneath a hundred blades, and with him, the last hope of their reign.
But not all perished.
Your mother, Lysandra, carried within her the final ember of their line. Wounded, hunted, she fled through burning forests and ruined cities, the cries of her people chasing her into silence. She did not run for her crown. She ran for you.
For she carried more than her own blood that night. She carried life.
Through snow and shadow, she reached Ashwood a kingdom small and secluded, where the wars of Lycans and Wolves rarely reached. She fell upon its gates, ragged and broken, and begged for sanctuary.
It was Selene's father who found her.
The cloaked man's voice deepened, curling with disdain.
"He was no fool. He saw what lay in her eyes power dormant, blood unbroken. He might have cast her aside, but he was a man of hunger, a man who saw only advantage."
And so, he granted her shelter.
But sanctuary came with chains.
He promised her safety for the child she carried, on one condition: that she would bind her strength in silence. That she would let the world believe her daughter was nothing. That she would hide her fire, so his blood his own child, Selene might rise brighter in the shadows of her sister's dimming.
And desperate, Lysandra agreed. For what is a crown compared to the life of a child?
The cloaked man's voice softened, thick with sorrow.
"You grew beneath that lie, Elara. You were raised in Ashwood's halls, but never its heart. You were clothed, but never crowned. Fed, but never praised. Selene shone, and you were left in her shadow, because your light was meant to be hidden. For your mother believed that only through obscurity would you survive."
I felt my chest cave as his words fell into me. Memories I had never understood the way Selene's father looked at me, with both pity and calculation; the way Selene's triumphs were celebrated while mine were swallowed in silence all of it aligned, cruelly, perfectly.
"She wanted to protect me," I whispered, my voice cracking.
The cloaked man nodded once. "Yes. She gave you weakness as a shield. She let the world believe you were fragile, because fragile things are not hunted."
A ripple of voices stirred among the council. Some whispered of mercy, others of cowardice. But none could look away from me.
Selene, though her face twisted, fury cracking her beauty. "Lies," she spat. "If she were so precious, why leave her at my father's mercy? Why let her rot in shadows while I rose in light?"
The man's gaze cut to her, sharp as a blade. "Because your father demanded it. He sheltered Lysandra not out of kindness, but ambition. He would keep her child close, not out of love, but to ensure her power could never rise beyond his grasp. And while he dressed you in jewels and gave you songs of glory, he buried your sister's truth beneath ash and silence."
Selene flinched, her hands trembling at her sides. But pride kept her rooted, lips curling into a brittle smile.
The cloaked man's voice turned back to me, steady, relentless.
"You ask why now? Why here, before the council's gaze? Because blood cannot sleep forever. The moon calls what it has chosen, and tonight, it has chosen you. The lie that cloaked you burns away, and the fire your mother hid rises at last."
My throat closed, hot and raw. Images I had never lived seared behind my eyes my mother's flight through burning forests, her arms clutching me close, her voice whispering lullabies of a future I would never remember.
A sob clawed at my chest, but no sound came.
Ciaran's grip tightened on my shoulders, his growl a storm in my ear. But even his strength couldn't steady the quake running through me.
The cloaked man drew his hood once more, his voice falling to a final echo.
"This is the truth the council buried. This is the truth Selene's father sought to smother beneath your silence. But blood answers when called, and the moon does not err. You are the daughter of Lysandra. The last flame of the Lycans. The child born of ash, hidden so another might shine."
The chamber was silent. No Elder dared move. No tongue dared speak.
Except Selene's.
Her voice, low and trembling, cut through the stillness. "If this is true… if she is what you say… then all I have bled for, all I have clawed for, is nothing."
Her hands curled into fists, her eyes burning with something darker than fury.
"Then we are doomed."