Hazel sank into the stance of a predator, every line of her body ready to strike, her eyes blazing with fire. Phoenix stood unmoving, his presence colder than the stones beneath their feet, a shadow that seemed carved from the night itself. He watched her not with admiration but with the detached hunger of a beast studying prey, though something about her defiance tugged at him like an irritation he could not shake. His voice cut through the roar of silence, low and merciless, stripped of all humanity: "You carry my seed now. From this moment, you are mine to keep within sight—whether you crawl, fight, or bleed." Hazel lifted her chin, her defiance a flame against his ice. "And who says I will clean the ruins you've left behind?" she hurled back, her voice sharp as a blade. Phoenix's lips curved into a shadow of a smile, cruel and mocking, before he turned from her, steps slow, deliberate, as if he had already written her fate. His words fell over his shoulder," Your life weighs nothing to me ,even if you are to die for my mess."
Days bled into nights as Hazel remained locked away, her body refusing the food set before her, her spirit gnawed raw by silence. "Alpha, my lady has touched nothing since the moment you left," Beta Korran reported, his voice heavy with unease. With a nod that betrayed nothing, Phoenix strode to her chamber. Inside, she lay crumpled beneath the bed, her garments unchanged, her body frail and chilled as though the cold itself had seeped into her bones since she was not used to her new temperature . Phoenix crouched, his hand closing around her with an unexpected gentleness, pulling her out as if she were made of glass that might shatter in his grasp. Her skin burned with fever, her breath shallow, her defiance flickering faintly in her eyes. He placed her carefully upon the bed, a rare hesitation in his movements, while the healer rushed forward to tend to her. Phoenix turned away, stepping onto the balcony, his gaze fixed on the endless drop of the falls below, the mist curling like ghosts around the cliffs. "Alpha," Korran ventured, his tone cautious, "are you going to announce her as our Luna?" Phoenix did not look back, his voice cold and sharp as a fang. "That is too sudden for you to say. I see her only as a vessel for my seed. Perhaps after i recover what i want , she will learn what it means to face punishment for her sins".
Roxanne had remained voiceless for days, her body weakening as the frost of Phoenix's magic crept deeper into her lungs, each breath a struggle, her silence heavy as stone, her strength fading fast. The healer bent over her with grim eyes. "This is no illness," he said, his voice weighted with dread, "it is the remnant of a magic strike, and if we do not find a way to unravel it, the frost will consume her from within." Corrine's voice broke with urgency. "Then tell me—what can we do?" The healer's tone darkened as though the words themselves carried centuries of blood. "The only force strong enough to counter this is the Codex of Silence, one of the seven forbidden books, forged to reverse all workings of magic. It was lost during the Massacre of Witches, when their kind were hunted, their temples burned, their screams swallowed by flame. Many thought the Codex destroyed, but whispers say it lies hidden still, locked in the secret library beneath Bloodmoon Palace, guarded by Lady Valeria." Corrine's hands tightened as her gaze fell back on Roxanne, pale and trembling. "And until the Codex is found?" The healer shook his head, sorrow dragging his words like chains. "The warm streams of the Dawn Veil Pack may sustain her, keep her alive by slowing the frost's spread—but they cannot free her from Phoenix's magic. She will linger only at the edge of death until the book is found."
Queen Fiona—congratulations, you are with a child," the midwife cried, and Fiona's eyes widened. "Me—pregnant?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Vangelis arrived to find the chamber alive with royals, their chants of congratulations rising like a storm he hadn't seen coming. Mrs. Valeria's smile widened when she saw him, and she swept into his arms. "Congratulations, dear—you're going to be a father." Vangelis's lips curved in astonishment as he hugged her back. "Thank you, Mom. I'm going to be a dad… let me see her." But his mother's hand stopped him. "No—you will only meet her during the pregnancy ritual at Dawn Veil Pack, at the fruitful stream. Only there can she be blessed and guarded through the term". Fiona, meanwhile, stood before the mirror as the maids dressed her, her face calm but her heart torn. The only truth she carried from Redlunar was the Beta's whisper: Phoenix's child had been transferred to another woman. She did not know who. The thought sank its claws into her chest—what if he falls in love with her?
"Has she written anything on the sheet?" Cassius asked, his tone low, his presence sharp as steel. "Not yet," Corrine answered. "She needs someone with her; she was motionless the entire time I stayed. I'll search further for the Codex of Silence. Take my badge—with it, you'll pass as royal. Without it, you will not be allowed into the stream. But be cautious—no one must know you are Cassius.
Corrine departed, leaving him in silence. Cassius moved to leave as well, but a dull thud echoed from Fiona's chamber. His eyes narrowed, and in a flash he was there—finding her limp, hanging by a rope. With one swift cut he severed it, dragging her lifeless frame to the bed. His hand struck her cheek, not in cruelty but command, the sound sharp in the air. His voice followed, cold and unyielding, every word edged in frost. "Pathetic. To think you'd throw away your life so easily. Do you not realize how many chains you've fastened to yourself,the revenge that bores your eyes? You don't get to die, Roxanne. Not by your hand. Not now. Not ever."
She broke then, tears trembling on her lashes as she flung herself against him. For a heartbeat he froze, his aura still sharp and cold, but his arms—unyielding at first—finally circled her. His embrace was iron, not comfort, yet beneath its chill lay the unspoken truth: he would not let her slip away.
The next day, Dawn Veil Pack swelled with royals from Bloodmoon, their banners casting long shadows across the sacred grounds. By afternoon, Cassius and Roxanne arrived, though the warm bath would not open until midnight; for now, they wandered the pack's lands, bound by silence and the weight of eyes that followed them. Cassius noticed her gaze fixed on the silver spray of the Lovers Veil Falls, her expression soft with longing. He asked her with the briefest nod if that was where she wished to go, and though he was no admirer of such places, he agreed—for her. At the base of the falls, attendants awaited them, their robes pale as moonlight, their voices soft but commanding as they explained that no one could approach without wearing the sacred attire of lovers. Cassius and Roxanne were separated and led to their chambers.
In her dressing room, a woman studied her badge and smiled faintly. "With this, you will be robed as a princess." They clothed her in only a narrow strip of fabric across her chest, bound tightly so it ended at her waist, leaving her shoulders and stomach bare to the fading glow of the setting sun. From her hips fell a skirt of light linen, pale as mist, brushing her ankles as she walked. The simplicity of it was striking, sacred—marking her as vulnerable yet chosen. She stared into the mirror, startled at her own reflection, regal and fragile all at once.
Stepping out for air, she drifted along the path, only to halt when her eyes locked onto Vangelis, who stood upon the hill with his escort. Their gazes clashed, hers startled, his unreadable. He descended toward her, but before he could close the distance, another figure stepped into the clearing. He was bare-chested, his skin a map of old scars, each one carved deep like the runes of hunts and battles survived. His trousers were rough-hewn, tied at the waist with leather, his presence raw and commanding, as though forged from the wild itself. He knelt before her, silent but certain, and lifted her foot to rest on his knee, fastening around it an anklet of gleaming silver. His head tilted back as his voice cut low, reverent: "You deserve to be honored."
From the hill, Vangelis watched the act and understood its meaning without words. His jaw tightened, and without protest, he mounted his horse once more, pulling his men back into the shadows, leaving the moment unchallenged.