The Guardian's molten eyes narrowed as the Alpha stepped further into the chamber, the crimson runes reflecting off his armor like liquid fire.
Kael's breath hitched—not from pain, but from pure, murderous fury.
"You shouldn't be here," Kael snarled, pushing Ysolde behind him.
The Alpha smiled gently, almost casually.
"Little brother… you still haven't realized something, have you?"
Kael growled, low and dangerous.
The Alpha's attention shifted to Ysolde—slow, deliberate, intimate.
"The mountain didn't drag you here," he said.
"It dragged her."
Ysolde's pulse stuttered.
"It wants a queen. But a throne means nothing without a king."
Kael snapped, "She doesn't need you—"
The Alpha raised a hand.
"And you think she needs you?"
Kael lunged—but his broken ribs cut the movement short. He dropped to one knee, breath shuddering in his throat.
Ysolde grabbed his shoulders.
"Stop—please—don't hurt yourself—"
The Alpha's eyes softened.
"Listen to her, Kael. She already knows."
Knows what?
Ysolde tightened her grip on Kael, trying to anchor both of them. "Enough games. Say what you came here to say."
The Alpha stepped closer, boots silent on stone.
"I came to claim what is mine."
Kael roared, forcing himself between them again despite the agony tearing through his body.
"She is NOT yours!"
The Alpha didn't even flinch.
"No. Not yet."
He turned to Ysolde.
"But she could be."
Her stomach twisted painfully.
The Alpha spread his arms, crimson magic swirling faintly behind him.
"I am offering what Kael cannot."
"Power?" Ysolde spat.
"No," the Alpha said calmly. "Survival."
The Guardian rumbled, stone grinding against stone.
"Your presence here violates the rite."
The Alpha lifted his chin.
"I am of her blood."
Kael froze.
Ysolde's breath caught. "What did you just say?"
The Alpha's gaze slid to her, softening in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Your bloodline is not as extinct as the mountain believes."
Her vision blurred at the edges.
"No… no, that's impossible—"
"Is it?" He stepped into the red glow of the runes, and they flared brighter. "Old Blood recognizes Old Blood."
Kael's claws dug into the stone floor.
"You—" his voice broke into a snarl, "you're lying."
The Alpha smiled faintly.
"You always hated that I was touched by magic. By the mountain. By fate. But you never asked why, Kael."
He turned back to Ysolde.
"You and I share a bloodline. Distant… but real."
The world tilted beneath her.
"But—how?"
"A single surviving branch," the Alpha said.
"Hidden. Divided. Waiting."
Kael shook his head violently.
"No. No—if that were true, Father would have—"
"Father knew," the Alpha murmured.
Kael went still.
"He kept me from the throne because he knew what I might become."
Kael's face twisted with shock and betrayal.
"He raised you to rule," the Alpha said. "And he raised me to be… controlled."
Ysolde's pulse hammered.
"So you think that means I should choose you?"
The Alpha's eyes deepened to a darker, richer crimson.
"It means I am the only one who can survive being your mate."
Kael snarled, "She doesn't want you."
"Want is irrelevant," the Alpha said softly.
"Need is everything."
The Guardian stepped forward, its voice shaking the chamber.
"The queen must choose a mate to stabilize her power. This is the Rite of Kings. Only two stand before the throne—one bound by the heart, and one bound by blood."
It lifted its stone hands.
"In this rite, neither challenger may refuse."
Kael's eyes widened with fury.
"So I have to fight him?"
"No," the Guardian said.
"You must survive him."
Ysolde grabbed Kael's wrist.
"No—NO—he's injured—he can't—"
Kael's breath shook.
"It's my place."
The Alpha smirked.
"And your funeral."
Ysolde stepped between them, voice trembling.
"I'm not choosing either of you like this. I won't choose under threat."
The Guardian tilted its head.
"You must choose. Or the mountain will choose for you."
The runes flared dangerously.
Kael grabbed her face in both hands, blood dripping onto her cheeks.
"Ysolde. Look at me."
His voice broke.
"You don't owe me anything. Not a throne. Not a bond. Not a life. But I swear—if I die here, I die protecting you."
The Alpha's voice slid in like a blade.
"And if I die here, the mountain loses its heir. Its last male bloodline."
Ysolde stiffened.
"You threaten your own people?"
"They are not my people," the Alpha murmured.
"They are yours."
She wanted to scream.
The Guardian lifted its arms.
"The Rite begins with a single word from the queen."
Kael and the Alpha both turned to her.
Their eyes—silver and crimson—burned into her.
The chamber awaited her voice.
Ysolde's heart raced so violently she could barely breathe.
"I don't want a king," she whispered.
The Guardian replied,
"You must choose."
Kael whispered her name—
fragile, pleading, breaking.
The Alpha whispered it too—
low, reverent, inevitable.
And Ysolde knew one truth so clearly it felt like a blade sliding into her chest:
No choice she made would let all three of them live.
Her breath hitched.
She looked at Kael.
His eyes softened.
Raw.
Open.
Fearless.
She turned to the Alpha.
His gaze held challenge.
Power.
Certainty.
Her chest tightened.
Her pulse surged.
And the chamber tilted—
lights spinning—
blood pounding—
magic clawing through her veins—
The Guardian lifted its arms—
"NAME YOUR MATE, QUEEN OF THE OLD BLOOD."
Ysolde inhaled sharply—
Opened her mouth—
And the mountain roared.
The walls trembled.
The floor cracked.
A shockwave erupted from the platform, hurling Kael to one side and the Alpha to the other.
Ysolde was torn off her feet—
not by the Guardian—
not by either brother—
but by something deeper.
Something beneath the chamber.
Something waking.
Something ancient.
She was yanked downward by invisible force—
dragged through the floor—
through the stone itself—
as if the mountain reached up to seize her.
"YSOLDE!"
Kael screamed her name, voice breaking open.
The Alpha roared and threw himself forward.
Both of them reached—
hands outstretched—
desperate—
But the stone swallowed her whole.
Cold.
Dark.
Silent.
Ysolde fell into nothingness—
and the mountain closed above her.