The wolf kingdom did not sleep. It breathed.
Stone corridors carved into the mountain curved like the ribs of a great beast. Torches burned low. Guards stood motionless.
At the highest chamber Eryx Vaelor stood before a tall obsidian mirror.His shirt lay discarded across a chair.
A faint crimson mark glowed across his chest where Kaelith's power had struck him.The wound had closed. But the imprint remained.
A reminder.
Gold remembers where it was challenged.
A servant knelt nearby, head bowed, holding a silver bowl filled with fresh blood.
Still warm.
"Alpha," the servant whispered carefully. "Your strength must be restored."
Eryx did not turn.
"I am not weakened."
The servant hesitated.
"The strike was direct—"
"And I am still standing."
His tone was calm.
Enough to silence any further argument.
Eryx stepped closer to the mirror.Golden eyes studied the faint shimmering scar.Not rage.
Not humiliation.Calculation.
"I underestimated his recovery speed," he murmured.
He flexed his hand slightly.
Claws pressed beneath the skin but did not emerge.Control first. Always control.
The scent of blood drifted toward him.
Rich.....tempting.....Powerful.
But it did not interest him.His thoughts were elsewhere.Silver light cutting between them.
Lyra standing between crimson and gold without fear.
He turned away from the bowl.
"I do not require it."
The servant stiffened slightly.A wolf refusing blood after battle was unnatural.Dangerous.
"Leave," Eryx ordered.
The servant obeyed instantly.The chamber door closed.
Silence returned.
Eryx walked toward the open balcony carved into the mountain wall.Night wind struck his bare skin.
Cold and clear.
He welcomed it.
"She chose him," he said quietly to the darkness.
But there was no jealousy in the words.Only analysis.
"Survival," he repeated, recalling her voice.
Yes.
She chose survival.Not loyalty.That distinction mattered.He rested both hands against the stone railing.
Claws extended briefly
Carving deep lines into the rock.
Then withdrew.
"Kaelith still fights with fire," Eryx murmured.
"And fire burns brightest before it consumes itself."
His golden eyes closed briefly.
And there Again.
Her.
A faint silver pulse lingering in the air even across kingdoms.
Not bonded.
Not aligned.
Unclaimed.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Not from anger.
From interest.
"You stood behind him," he whispered. "But you did not belong to him."
That truth pleased him. He straightened slowly.The calm Alpha returning fully.
"I will not repeat the past," he said quietly.
The wind howled faintly against the mountain walls.
"The hunt," Eryx Vaelor murmured, golden eyes glowing softly in the dark, "has only just begun."
Behind him
The untouched bowl of blood cooled.
Because tonight,
It was not hunger that drove him.
It was something far more dangerous.
-------
The Mark Beneath Her Skin. Night settled quietly over the ruined kingdom.The crimson sky dimmed into deep twilight, fractured moonlight spilling through broken arches.
For once
There was stillness.
Lyra lay upon the ancient stone platform, exhaustion finally claiming her.The day had been too heavy.
Too strange.....Too dangerous.
Kaelith stood near the shattered window, crimson eyes scanning the distant horizon out of instinct rather than concern.
Immortality did not allow true rest.
Only waiting.Only watching.
Behind him Soft movement.
"I can't believe this is what passes for a royal bed," Lyra muttered sleepily.
Kaelith glanced back.
She was already half-buried beneath torn silk sheets scavenged from forgotten chambers.
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"My kingdom has been in ruins for a century."
"Yes," she replied softly, eyes already closing, "but your arrogance remains perfectly intact."
That earned a low chuckle.
"You wound me."
"I highly doubt that."
Kaelith moved closer, sitting at the edge of the stone beside her.Lyra's silver hair spilled across the dark surface like liquid moonlight.
For a moment
He simply watched her again.
As he often did now.
"You stare often," she murmured without opening her eyes.
"You notice often."
"I notice everything."
Crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
"That," he said quietly, "does not surprise me."
The wind whispered softly through broken pillars.
Lyra shifted slightly Then suddenly stiffened.
A sharp breath escaped her lips.
Kaelith's expression darkened instantly.
"What is it?"
She winced faintly.
"My back…"
The silver bracelet flickered weakly.
"…it burns."
The air shifted immediately.Crimson energy stirred around him.Kaelith leaned closer.
"Where?"
"Lower…"
Her voice tightened slightly.
"…near my shoulder."
Without hesitation His hand moved to her back.Warm...Steady.He felt it instantly.
Heat....Unnatural.
Crimson eyes sharpened.
"Turn."
She obeyed slowly.The torn white fabric of her dress clung loosely to her skin.Kaelith's fingers traced lightly along her spine, searching.
Lyra inhaled sharply at the contact.Not pain.
Something else.Something far more dangerous.
"Does it hurt?" he asked quietly.
"Yes…"
A pause.
"…but not entirely."
His gaze darkened slightly.
He understood that tone.
Slowly and deliberately...
His fingers slipped beneath the fabric at her shoulder.Lyra's pulse quickened.
"Kaelith…"
But she did not stop him.The ruined chamber seemed to hold its breath. The world narrowing to warmth, skin, tension With controlled care, he pulled the fabric slightly downward.
Just enough.
Moonlight kissed bare skin.
And then
He froze.
Because beneath her pale silver glow
Something shimmered.A faint marking.
Glowing softly like living light beneath her skin.
Not ink...Not wound...A symbol!!
Ancient and recognizable.
His eyes widened slightly.
Impossiblee...
Lyra twisted slightly.
"What?"
His voice did not come immediately because he knew that mark.
Every ruler did.Every ancient race feared it.
Finally
He whispered,
"…No."
Lyra turned her head slightly.Kaelith's gaze remained locked on the glowing sigil.
Shock, disbelief and recognition.
"The Royal Crest of the First Fairy Bloodline…"
The marking pulsed softly.
Alive...Awakened.
Lyra's silver eyes widened.
"What does that mean?"
Kaelith's expression darkened.
Not with anger.
With realization.
"It means," he said slowly,
"…you were never meant to exist."
The symbol flared brighter and the ruined kingdom trembled.