Chapter 253: Tonight

Azura’s POV

We rode back to the pack house in complete silence, the thud of our horses’ hooves cutting through the quiet forest trail.

Aethryx moved with us, his towering presence casting a long, dark shadow as he matched our pace.

As we pulled into the main courtyard, I saw a small crowd gathered near the broad stone steps leading to the main entrance.

Silas and Axel were standing near the pillars, speaking in low tones with Rhydor’s father. Isadora was leaning against the stone railing, her arms crossed over her chest with her usual restless posture.

And right beside her stood someone else.

Amanda.

She was standing tall near the archway, her blue eyes already locked on mine the moment our horses cleared the tree line. She was watching me, her posture completely steady, radiating a strange, quiet strength that hadn’t been there before her long sleep.

Rhydor dismounted first, swinging his leg over his saddle with practiced ease. He immediately turned and reached his arms up to catch me by the waist, but I didn’t wait for his help.

I leapt straight off the horse before his fingers could even brush my tunic.

My boots hit the gravel with a soft thud. I didn’t pause for a single second. My eyes stayed glued to Amanda, and hers never left mine.

We both froze in place, taking each other in across the quiet courtyard. It felt like an eternity had passed since I last saw her face, back when everything was burning down around us.

Without saying a single word, we both crossed the distance between us at once. I threw my arms around her neck, pulling her into a fierce, desperate embrace.

Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over my cheeks, hot and sudden, soaking into the fabric of her shirt. She wrapped her arms tightly around my back, holding me just as hard, her grip solid and real.

I slowly pulled back, resting my hands on her shoulders as I searched her face.

"Amanda," I breathed, my voice thick with emotion.

"You’re back," Amanda said, a soft, genuine smile spreading across her lips as she looked down at me.

I wiped a stray tear from my cheek, letting out a breath I felt like I had been holding for weeks.

"Yes."

She smiled, her eyes warm and clear, and I couldn’t help but smile back, a wave of pure relief washing over my chest despite the storm waiting for us.

Isadora cleared her throat, shifting her weight against the stone railing with an impatient sigh.

"Since you two have seen each other..." she drawled, her tone dry and sharp as she looked between us, "what do we do next?"

****

We all gathered inside the pack house, seated around the massive oak table in the strategic council room.

Everyone was present. Silas and Axel took their spots near the head of the table, while Isadora sat across from Amanda, tapping her fingers lightly against the polished wood.

Rhydor’s father sat beside his son, his broad face set in a grim, unyielding mask. Aethryx stood slightly apart from the rest of us, resting his back against the stone wall.

He had traveled back with us, using his magic to warp through space for most of the journey to keep pace with our horses. His arms were folded tightly across his dark coat, his quiet grey eyes observing every single person in the room without missing a detail.

Rhydor leaned forward, resting his heavy forearms on the surface of the table.

"We need to get into the Alpha King’s territory," he said, his voice firm and absolute as he looked around the room.

"But we cannot do that easily without my mother. She is not here to guide us through the boundary wards. And Torin is also not here."

Aethryx shifted his weight slightly against the wall, his deep voice cutting through the heavy room with calm authority.

"I can get you there. But I do not know the way."

Isadora frowned, her brows pulling together in frustration as she shook her head.

"I could have led us," she said, her voice dropping into a bitter murmur.

"But I don’t feel the mate bond anymore. I don’t know where we’ll be heading if I can’t feel the pull."

"I know the way," Amanda said quietly.

The entire room went dead silent. Every single head turned toward her at once, eyes wide with surprise.

Amanda sat straight in her chair, her expression completely steady as she met everyone’s gaze without flinching.

"I know the way to Wraithfen," she repeated, her voice unwavering.

"I have been there before. I know how to get us inside."

I looked at her, my heart skipping a beat as I carefully weighed her words.

"Are you sure, Amanda?"

Amanda gave a firm, confident nod.

"Yes."

Rhydor turned his head, shifting his dark gaze over to where Aethryx was leaning against the wall.

"Since we already know how to get there... we can reach the territory with his help."

The Dragon King did not offer a verbal reply. He just stood there motionless in the shadows, his massive arms folded across his chest, his pale face completely unreadable.

Arthur leaned back in his heavy wooden chair, his rough hands resting flat on his knees as he looked up at his son.

"When are we moving?" he asked, his voice low and gruff with pure readiness.

Rhydor stood up straight, his jaw set in stone.

"Tonight."

******

Genevieve’s POV

The underground hall was cold.

Dark stone walls stretched into the gloom, weeping moisture that trickled down into shallow puddles on the uneven floor.

Dim torches flickering in rusted wall brackets cast long, dancing shadows across the chamber, doing little to chase away the deep, suffocating shadows.

The air was damp and heavy, pressing against my lungs with every breath I took, carrying the stale smell of rot, earth, and ancient magic.

I stood in the center of the vast chamber, my boots frozen to the stone floor.

In the far corner, almost swallowed by the darkness, I saw them. Two figures bound to rough stone pillars with thick iron chains.

They were completely unmoving, their heads hanging low against their chests as if locked in a deep, unnatural sleep.

Elisa and Alisa. Azura’s aunts.

My heart clenched tight, a sudden spike of panic sharp as a blade driving into my chest.

Why are they here? What does he want with them?

I looked away from them, forcing my eyes toward the center of the room, but I could still feel the heavy, oppressive weight of their presence pressing on me.

My hands trembled inside the folds of my cloak, my fingers opening and closing uselessly.

I could not focus on them right now. Not entirely. I couldn’t afford to let my mind shatter over two innocent women when the rest of my soul was hanging in the balance.

My Nicholas.

I had to separate him from this monster wearing his face. I had to rip my boy back from the clutches of the dark thing that had stolen his voice, his skin, his very life.

And there he was.

He was standing right in front of me.

My son. My youngest boy.

He was tall, his broad shoulders and sharp jawline so like his father’s, but every detail of him felt corrupted.

His eyes were wrong, tinted with a pale, cold sheen that didn’t belong to him. His smile was wrong, pulled high on one side with a cruel, mocking edge.

The way he stood, straight-backed and completely motionless, was completely alien to the lively, warm boy I remembered.

The Alpha King. Lysander.

"Did you really think you could save him without paying a price?" Lysander asked.

He used Nicholas’s voice, that has changed so much, deep, smooth baritone but the words came out flat, hollowed out by centuries of cold malice.

"Let him go," I said, my voice cracking on the final word.

I took a half-step forward, reaching out a hand before pulling it back.

"Let my son go."

Lysander tilted his head, watching me the way an apex predator watches a cornered animal trying to fight its way out of a trap.

"Let him go? After all these years?"

He stepped closer. The light of the torch caught the side of his face, accentuating the high cheekbones I used to kiss when he was just a child tucked into bed.

His voice dropped to a soft, dangerous murmur.

"Do you really want to lose him again, Genevieve?"

I felt my heart shatter inside my ribs, the fragments sharp enough to make every breath a chore.

I frowned, forcing my posture to stiffen as anger flared through the terror.

"What nonsense are you talking about?"

"You really don’t know?" Lysander said, his lips curling up into a mocking little sneer.

"I’m surprised, I must say. A Luna of your reputation, so completely blind to the laws of the spirit."

He gestured vaguely toward his own chest, tapping Nicholas’s sternum with a pale index finger.

"Drusilla and Isadora were only possessed for a few weeks, weren’t they?" Lysander said, his tone chillingly smooth as he paced in a slow, precise circle around me.

"That is why separating them was simple for you. Isadora’s soul was still strong. Still intact. It had barely been touched by the shadow."

He stepped closer, closing the distance until I could smell the faint scent of rain and ash that clung to his clothes.

"But Nicholas... your son... has been trapped inside his own body for years," he whispered.

"Since he was a child."