Chapter 154

Chapter 154: Chapter 154

The grand council chamber of the royal palace was filled with the most powerful figures in the Seven Packs—kings and queens of lesser packs, elders with centuries of wisdom, military commanders, and advisors who had served the Crown for decades. The atmosphere was tense, the air thick with unspoken fears. King Aldric Thornridge sat at the head of the long table, his stern face carved from stone, his sharp eyes sweeping over the assembly.

They had been discussing the realm’s troubles for hours. The failing crops. The dying livestock. The strange illnesses that had begun to spread through the outer villages. And above all, the moon.

The full moon had not come in two months.

For a realm that worshipped the Moon Goddess, whose very identity was tied to the lunar cycle, this was catastrophic. The people were afraid. The priests were baffled. The wolves grew restless without the moon’s pull, their instincts dulled, their tempers frayed. Something was very wrong, and no one knew how to fix it. ℴ

"The seer warned us," Elder Marric said, his weathered voice heavy with dread. "She said destruction would come if the Moonblood heir was harmed. And now—"

"The Moonblood heir was a traitor," another elder interrupted. "She killed her own brother. The seer’s prophecy was about the realm, not about her."

"Was it? The evidence against her was forged. Lord Eldritch proved it himself. Perhaps we executed the wrong person."

"We didn’t execute anyone. She was killed by an arrow."

"An arrow that was meant for her. An arrow that fulfilled the prophecy."

The chamber erupted into heated debate. The King listened in silence, his expression unreadable. He had heard these arguments before—in the streets, in the temples, in the quiet corners of the palace where people whispered their fears. The realm was divided. Some believed Nyra was a murderer. Others believed she was a martyr. And still others believed she was the key to averting the disaster that was unfolding around them.

Before the King could call for order, the doors to the council chamber burst open.

Two guards stumbled inside, dragging two women between them. The women were clearly from the lower classes—market vendors, by the look of their rough clothing and calloused hands. They were struggling against the guards, shouting at each other, their faces twisted with fury.

"Your Majesty!" one of the guards gasped. "Forgive the intrusion, but these women—"

The first woman screamed.

It was not a human sound. It was something primal, something feral, something that made every wolf in the chamber’s blood run cold. Her eyes went bloodshot red, the veins in her neck bulging. She turned on the other woman with inhuman speed, her teeth sinking into the woman’s throat.

The second woman didn’t even have time to scream.

The first woman drank. She drank like a creature possessed, her mouth working at the wound, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. The second woman’s body convulsed once, twice, and then went still. Her skin turned gray. Her eyes went glassy. She was dead before she hit the floor.

The first woman stepped back, blood dripping from her chin. For a moment, she just stood there, swaying. Then she began to convulse. Blood poured from her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her ears. She clawed at her own face, her nails leaving deep gouges in her skin. And then she collapsed, twitching, until she too was still.

The council chamber was absolutely silent.

The King rose slowly from his chair. "What," he said, his voice dangerously quiet, "was that?"

The guard who had spoken before was trembling. "Your Majesty, these women were arguing in the market. A dispute over money. The fight was getting out of hand, so we arrested them and brought them here for judgment. And then... then that happened."

"This is the third time," one of the elders whispered. "The third time something like this has occurred."

"The third?" The King turned to face the speaker. "Explain."

"My King, there have been reports from the outer villages. People turning on each other. Attacking without provocation. Some of them... drinking blood. It’s as if something is possessing them. Something dark."

The King’s jaw tightened. "And no one thought to bring this to my attention sooner?"

"We thought it was isolated incidents. Superstition. The reports were... disturbing, but unverified."

"Unverified." The King’s voice was cold. "Three incidents. People dying in the streets. And you call that unverified?"

The elder shrank back. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. We should have—"

"Enough." The King raised his hand. He looked at the bodies on the floor, at the blood pooling beneath them, and felt a chill run down his spine. This was not the work of ordinary madness. This was something else. Something dark. Something that was spreading.

"The seer," he said. "Bring me the seer. All of this must come to an end."

"And Varek, Your Majesty?" one of the advisors asked. "His trial is still pending."

The King was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke.

"On the night of the next full moon—which should have come weeks ago but has been delayed by the goddess’s displeasure—Varek Astrlyn will be brought from his cell and executed in front of the entire realm. Attendance is mandatory. He will be used to appease the Moon Goddess, to cleanse the evil that has taken root in our land." He paused. "And until this crisis is resolved, the Astrlyn pack will remain without a ruler. The throne will stay empty until I say otherwise."

The chamber erupted in murmurs. The King silenced them with a look.

"Go. Carry out my orders. And bring me the seer."

The guards bowed and scrambled to obey. The elders and advisors filed out, their faces pale and frightened. The King stood alone in the empty chamber, staring at the bloodstains on the floor.

The prophecy, he thought. It’s already beginning.

Soren found Valeria in the empty corridor near the east wing.

She had been waiting for him, her dark hair pulled back, her expression wary. The conversation from the watchtower still hung between them—the accusations, the threats, the fragile alliance they had formed.

"Valeria." His voice was low. "I need you to lay low. Keep gathering information, but do it discreetly. If anyone suspects you’re working with me—"

"They’ll kill me. I know." She met his eyes. "I’ll be careful."

"And if you betray me—" He stepped closer, his golden eyes blazing. "If I find out you’ve been feeding information to the enemy, I won’t just have you executed. Your wolf will serve as breakfast for Kael. Do you understand?"

Fear flickered in Valeria’s eyes. She nodded quickly. "I understand. I won’t betray you."

"Good." He turned to walk away, then paused. "And Valeria? Stay alive. You’re still useful to me."

She blinked, surprised. "Is that your way of saying you care?"

"It’s my way of saying don’t die before I’m done with you."

She smiled—a small, sad smile. "Stay alive also, Soren. The realm still needs its prince."

He nodded once and walked away. Valeria watched him go, her heart aching with an emotion she didn’t want to name.

Maybe, she thought, maybe at some point, he actually cared about me. Maybe.

She turned and walked in the opposite direction, disappearing into the shadows.

Soren made his way to the lake.

It was the place he always went when he needed to think—the still water, the weeping willows, the cold stone bench where he had first found Nyra crying all those months ago. The moon should have been full tonight. Instead, the sky was dark, the stars dim, the world holding its breath.

Two months without the full moon, he thought. The goddess is angry. And the realm is suffering for it.

He sat on the stone bench and stared at the black water. The words Valeria had spoken echoed in his mind—Finn might be more involved than we thought. But he couldn’t tell the others. Not yet. It was too much of a shock. And Ragnar—Ragnar was in love with Finn. How would he take it if the boy he loved turned out to be a traitor?

I’ll observe him myself, Soren decided. I’ll gather evidence. I’ll watch him without being obvious. And if it’s true—if Finn is really involved—then I’ll deal with it.

But first, he had other leads to pursue. Killian and Elias were not working alone. They had allies—people who had helped them cover their tracks, who had fed them information, who had protected them from the investigation. He needed to find those people. He needed to follow the trail back to its source.

Killian’s contacts, he thought. The people he worked with at the academy. The students who helped him brew the poison. The servants who smuggled the arrow. They’ll lead me somewhere.

He stayed at the lakeside a little longer, letting the cold air clear his head. Then he rose and walked back toward the palace, his mind already mapping out the next steps of his investigation.

Ragnar found Finn in the garden, standing alone among the flowers.

The late afternoon sun was weak, filtered through a layer of clouds that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the sky. The garden, usually vibrant with color, was muted and gray. But Finn was there, his sandy hair catching what little light there was, his expression thoughtful as he studied a cluster of pale roses.

Ragnar smiled and made his way over. "There you are. I’ve been looking for you."

Finn looked up, and his face broke into that familiar, warm smile. "Ragnar. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Everything. The investigation. The realm. The future." He gestured at the roses. "The flowers are dying. Did you notice? The gardeners say it’s because the moon hasn’t been full. They can’t bloom without her light."

Ragnar sat beside him on the low stone wall. "The moon will come back. The goddess is just... testing us."

"Testing us? Or punishing us?" Finn’s voice was quiet. "The seer said destruction was coming. Maybe this is just the beginning."

"Then we’ll face it together. Like we always do." Ragnar took his hand. "We’ve survived worse than a few dying flowers."

Finn smiled and leaned into him, snuggling against Ragnar’s side. "What do you want to do after all this? After the realm is settled and everything is resolved?"

Ragnar thought for a moment. "I want to go on a long trip. Just the two of us. Somewhere far away from all this—the politics, the investigations, the danger."

"A trip? Where would we go?"

"Anywhere you want. The southern coast. The eastern mountains. The islands beyond the sea." He pressed a kiss to Finn’s hair. "Only the two of us. That’s all I want."

Finn smiled, his gray eyes soft. "That sounds wonderful."

"It does." Ragnar squeezed his hand. "So we both have to survive all this. Deal?"

"Deal." Finn tilted his head up and kissed him—soft and warm and full of promise. Ragnar kissed him back, his hand coming up to cradle Finn’s jaw.

For a moment, the dying garden and the absent moon and the gathering darkness all faded away. There was only the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms, pretending the world wasn’t falling apart.