Caspian's POV
Fire.
I wake up drowning in fire that no one else can see.
My scream tears through the palace, raw and agonized, ripping from my throat before I'm even fully conscious. Pain—worse than any battle wound, worse than any injury I've ever suffered—explodes across my entire body.
I thrash in my bed, clawing at my chest, my arms, my face. Something is wrong. Something is burning me from the inside out.
"ALPHA!"
My door crashes open. Guards flood in, weapons drawn, looking for attackers. But there's no enemy they can fight. The enemy is something they can't see.
"What's happening?" Commander Drake rushes to my bedside, his face pale with shock. "Goddess above, what happened to you?"
I try to answer, but another wave of agony steals my breath. I look down at my hands and my blood turns to ice.
Wounds. Dozens of wounds covering my skin where smooth flesh should be. They're not cuts or burns—they're something worse. Each one glows faintly with a sickly golden light, and they hurt like someone is pressing hot coals directly into my bones.
"Get the healers!" Drake shouts. "NOW!"
More pack members crowd into my room, and I hear their gasps of horror. Through the haze of pain, I catch glimpses of their faces—shock, fear, confusion. Their Alpha King, the most powerful wolf in the territories, is lying in bed screaming like a dying animal.
My wolf howls inside my mind, a sound of pure agony that makes me want to claw my own skull open just to make it stop.
What's happening to us? I demand.
PAIN, my wolf snarls back. PUNISHMENT. CURSE. THE MATE—
The healers arrive in a flurry of motion, their hands immediately glowing with healing magic as they swarm around me. Head Healer Maria's face goes white when she sees the wounds.
"Impossible," she breathes. "These weren't here an hour ago when I did evening rounds."
"Fix it!" I growl through clenched teeth. "Whatever this is, fix it!"
They try. Goddess knows they try. Healing magic washes over me in waves, potions are poured down my throat, herbs are pressed against my skin. But nothing works. Nothing even dulls the pain.
If anything, the wounds are getting worse.
I watch in horror as a new wound opens on my forearm, appearing out of nowhere like invisible claws are carving into my flesh. Then another on my shoulder. Another across my ribs.
"They're spreading," Maria says, her voice shaking. "Alpha, I don't understand what—"
A commotion at the door cuts her off. More voices shouting. Then I hear her—Lyanna Shadowmere, my childhood friend, pushing through the crowd.
"Caspian!" She rushes to my side, her beautiful face twisted with concern. "What happened? I heard screaming—" She stops when she sees the wounds. "Oh Goddess."
"We don't know what's causing it," Maria explains quickly. "No poison we've tested for, no magic signature we can identify. It's like his body is attacking itself."
"It's not just him," Drake says grimly from the doorway. "Reports are coming in from across the palace. Warriors are reporting weakness. Several have collapsed during training. It's like the whole pack is being drained."
"Drained of what?" Lyanna asks.
"Power. Strength. Life force." Drake's jaw clenches. "It started about an hour ago, right when—"
"Right when what?" I force the words out.
Drake exchanges a glance with another guard. "Right when we felt that massive energy surge from the Burning Wastes, Alpha. The guards who escorted the Emberly girl to the border said she walked into the Wastes and the ground started glowing. There was an explosion of golden light. They reported it immediately, but we didn't think—"
Aria.
The name hits me like a thunderbolt. Through the fog of pain, I remember—the rejection, the ceremony, her screams as the bond shattered. The way she looked at me with those amber eyes full of betrayal before she collapsed.
I banished her to the Burning Wastes four days ago. Sent her to die.
And now this is happening.
"Someone get the pack seer," I order. "Get Elder Moira. Now."
It takes twenty agonizing minutes for the ancient seer to arrive. Elder Moira is old—older than anyone in the pack—with milky white eyes that see things others can't. She shuffles into my room leaning on her gnarled walking stick, and the moment she crosses the threshold, she stops dead.
Her face drains of all color.
"No," she whispers, her voice trembling. "Oh, Moon Goddess, no. What have you done?"
"What is this?" I demand through gritted teeth. "What's happening to me?"
Moira moves closer, her blind eyes somehow seeing everything. She reaches out with one withered hand and touches one of my wounds. The moment her fingers make contact, she jerks back like she's been burned.
"Phoenix fire," she breathes. "Ancient and pure. You rejected a Phoenix Heir."
The room goes silent.
"That's impossible," Lyanna says quickly. "The Emberly girl was just a weak omega. Her family practiced dark magic, but they weren't—"
"The Emberly bloodline descends from the Phoenix Ancients," Moira interrupts, her voice gaining strength. "The first fire-wielders who created our kind from ash and flame. They sealed their power generations ago to hide from those who hunted them. But when you rejected the girl—when you severed the mate bond with such cruelty—you didn't just break a connection."
She turns her blind gaze on me, and I swear she can see straight into my soul.
"You triggered the blood curse."
"What curse?" My voice comes out as a growl.
"Phoenix rejection is not like wolf rejection. When you reject a Phoenix Heir, especially with malice and cruelty, the bond doesn't break—it transforms. It becomes a chain binding your fate to theirs." Moira's hand shakes on her walking stick. "Every cruel word you spoke is now a wound on your body. Every insult, every moment of suffering you caused her, manifests as pain you must endure."
I stare at the wounds covering my arms, my chest, my hands. There are dozens of them.
How many cruel words did I speak? How much did I hurt her?
"And the weakness?" Drake asks. "The pack losing strength?"
"Her power feeds on yours now," Moira explains. "As the Phoenix awakens and grows stronger, she draws strength from the one who rejected her. Your pack's power flows to her like water finding its level. And it will continue until—" She stops.
"Until what?" Lyanna demands.
"Until she dies, taking you with her. Or until she becomes powerful enough that there's nothing left of you to drain." Moira's voice drops to a whisper. "If she dies, Alpha, you die—but slowly, watching everything you built crumble around you first. Your warriors will weaken. Your borders will fall. Your enemies will sense the weakness and attack. The Obsidian Court will fall, and it will be your fault."
The words hit me like physical blows. I think of my father, murdered in a territory war. I think of everything I've built, every wolf who depends on me, every life that rests on my strength.
And I'm losing it all because of what I did to her.
"Can it be reversed?" I ask desperately. "Can we break the curse?"
Moira is quiet for a long moment. Too long.
"There may be a way," she finally says. "But it would require the Phoenix Heir's willing forgiveness. She would have to choose to release you from the curse."
I remember Aria's face as I rejected her. The way she begged me to listen. The way she collapsed, black marks spreading across her skin like cracks in porcelain.
The way I walked away without looking back.
"She'll never forgive me," I whisper.
"No," Moira agrees. "She probably won't. You destroyed her, Alpha King. And now she's going to watch you burn."
Another wound opens on my chest, and I gasp as fresh agony tears through me.
Through the twisted bond—because I can feel it now, warped and wrong but still there—I sense something that makes my blood freeze.
Power. Enormous, ancient, terrifying power awakening in the Burning Wastes.
And it's not just awake.
It's angry.