The scream caught in her throat.
Selene bolted upright, drenched in sweat, gasping as if she'd surfaced from a drowning dream. Her chest heaved. Her hands trembled. Around her, the room spun, and a dull ache settled behind her eyes.
She wasn't in the mirror room anymore.
She was in her chambers. Draped in shadows. Wrapped in thick furs.
A fire burned low in the hearth. She didn't remember getting here.
"Selene."
Her name was a whisper — deep, warm, and achingly familiar.
Cian.
She turned to find him beside the bed, sitting in a chair, one hand bandaged, the other reaching for her.
"You were thrashing," he murmured. "I brought you back."
She blinked, struggling to focus.
"I saw her," she whispered. "The woman in white. She said… she said I would set her free."
Cian's jaw clenched. "What else?"
"Daxon," Selene breathed. "He spoke to me from the mirror. He's not dead, Cian. He's not... "
"I know." he said.
That stopped her.
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You… what?"
"I've been reading through the journals we recovered," he said quietly. "The ones hidden in the east tower. Daxon left more than one. He knew what would happen. He planned for it."
Selene's stomach twisted.
"You knew and didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to hurt you," he admitted, pain flickering in his gaze. "I wanted to believe he was truly gone. It was easier than hoping."
Selene turned away, tears stinging her eyes.
Hope. It was a cruel thing.
She pulled the pendant from around her neck, the fractured moonstone glowing faintly in the dark.
"I don't know what's real anymore," she whispered. "I keep hearing his voice in my dreams. I see his shadow in the firelight. But he's not here. He's not here, Cian."
He rose from the chair, moving toward her slowly like a wolf approaching a wounded mate.
"I'm here."
Selene looked up.
And in that moment, she saw the storm in his eyes, the longing he'd buried, the restraint he'd worn like armor for too long. He looked tired. Hollow. But still burning.
"I can't lose you too," she murmured.
"You won't." he responded.
Cian reached out and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing a tear away.
Their breaths mingled. The fire crackled. Silence swelled like a promise between them.
"I know I'm not what your heart chose first," he said softly. "But I'm still here. Every day. Every hour. And I would die before I let anything take you."
Selene's throat closed. Her heart thundered.
And before she could think, before she could stop herself, she leaned in.
Their lips met –soft at first, hesitant. But the moment their mouths touched, the world tilted. Cian groaned against her, hand slipping to the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
She melted into him.
It wasn't a kiss of passion.
It was a kiss of pain.
Of longing.
Of two broken pieces trying to feel whole again.
When they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, breaths ragged.
"I'm sorry," Selene whispered.
"For what?" he asked.
"For not seeing you sooner."
Cian's hand slid down her arm, lacing their fingers.
"I would wait a hundred years to be seen by you."
Her heart cracked open a little more.
But even in that fragile, beautiful moment, the echo of Daxon's voice haunted her.
They didn't let me die…
Later that night, after Cian had fallen asleep beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Selene slipped from the bed.
The journals waited on the table, stacked neatly.
She pulled the top one open and flipped to the bookmarked page.
"The void doesn't just consume. It binds. It marks. And once touched, you never return the same."
"I let it take me. Because it was the only way to protect her."
"But I'm beginning to hear her voice. The White Wolf. She says Selene is her vessel. That the prophecy was never about salvation. It was about rebirth. Hers."
Selene's blood ran cold.
She turned the page.
"There's more. I saw a vision. Of Selene on her knees, bathed in blood. Her eyes… not her own. The moon turned red. And Cian… lying in her arms, dying."
Selene covered her mouth.
"No…"
The pages blurred as she kept reading.
"If I'm her anchor, then maybe I can pull her back. If it's me or the world… let it be me."
Her heart shattered all over again.
Suddenly, a cold gust swept through the room.
Selene spun.
The fire had gone out.
Cian was still sleeping.
But the shadows had changed.
A figure stood at the edge of the room.
Cloaked in black. Head bowed.
She couldn't breathe.
"Daxon…?" She called.
The figure stepped forward, moonlight slicing across his face.
It was him.
But not.
His eyes glowed violet.
His hair was longer. Skin paler. Markings ran down his neck like veins of silver.
"Selene," he said but the voice was wrong. Too deep. Echoing. Like two voices overlapped.
She took a step back.
"Is it really you?"
Daxon blinked, and for a moment, the real him surfaced.
"Run."
"What?"
"She's coming."
And then...
His mouth opened, and he screamed.
But it wasn't his voice.
It was hers.
The mirrors in the room cracked.
Cian jolted awake behind her, eyes wide.
"Selene, get down!" He shouted.
Too late.
The shadows surged.
And the woman in white stepped through the broken mirror.
----
Breakdown:
•Cian and Selene finally share a vulnerable, romantic moment
•Daxon's return is real but he's not fully himself.
•Selene reads the true prophecy: She might be the White Wolf's vessel.
•And now… the White Wolf is here.