Chapter 161

Chapter 161: Chapter 161

The palace archives were a labyrinth of stone corridors and iron doors, buried deep beneath the main keep. They were guarded by ancient wards and patrolled by guards who had served the Crown for decades. No one entered without the King’s express permission. No one left with anything they weren’t supposed to have.

Corvin knew all of this. He also knew that the records from the showcase the analysis of the poison that had nearly killed Soren were stored somewhere in those archives. And he was determined to find them.

"We’re going to get caught," Lucian whispered, pressing himself against the cold stone wall.

"Only if you keep talking," Corvin replied, his eyes fixed on the guard patrol ahead. "Two guards. They’ll pass in thirty seconds. When they do, we move."

Lucian muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. He had learned long ago that when Corvin had a plan, it was best to follow it.

The guards passed. Corvin counted to ten, then slipped out of the shadows and moved down the corridor. Lucian followed, his footsteps silent on the stone.

They reached the archive door—a massive slab of iron reinforced with ancient runes. Corvin examined the lock. It was complex, requiring both a key and a magical signature. But he had prepared for this. He pulled a small vial from his pocket a disarming solution he had brewed the night before and poured it into the lock. The runes flickered and died. The lock clicked open.

"Impressive," Lucian admitted.

"Don’t sound so surprised." Corvin pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The archive was vast, filled with shelves that stretched toward the ceiling. Thousands of documents, scrolls, and ledgers were arranged in meticulous order. The air smelled of dust and old paper. A single lantern burned on a desk near the entrance, casting a dim glow over the room.

"Where do we start?" Lucian asked.

"The records from the showcase. They’ll be filed under the date of the assassination attempt." Corvin moved toward the shelves, his eyes scanning the labels. "The King ordered them classified. They should be in a separate section, marked with a royal seal."

They searched for nearly an hour, moving through the shelves with careful precision. And then, finally, Corvin found it—a thick leather-bound volume with the royal seal embossed on the cover. He pulled it from the shelf and set it on the desk.

"This is it," he breathed. ℯℯ𝘭.

He opened the book. The pages were filled with dense handwriting—the observations of the palace healers, the analysis of the poison, the results of every test they had run. Corvin read quickly, his eyes devouring the information.

"The poison is called Nightshade Essence," he murmured. "It was designed specifically to kill Lycans. It attacks the wolf first, then the body. There’s no known antidote."

"We knew that," Lucian said.

"But look at this." Corvin pointed to a passage near the bottom of the page. "The healers found traces of dark magic in the poison. Specifically, shadow magic the kind practiced by the Dark Coven. They traced it to the Shadowwood. To a witch named Morgath."

"Varek’s ally."

"Yes. And there’s more." He turned the page. "The healers also found traces of a second poison—a slower-acting toxin that had been in Soren’s system for weeks before the assassination attempt. The same poison that killed Thorne."

Lucian’s face went pale. "Someone was poisoning Soren for weeks before the showcase?"

"Someone close to him. Someone who had access to his food, his drink, his quarters." Corvin’s jaw tightened. "Someone who wanted him dead long before the arrow was fired."

"Who?"

"I don’t know yet. But I intend to find out." He closed the book and tucked it under his arm. "We need to take this. It’s evidence."

"Corvin, if they catch us with that—"

"Then we’d better not get caught."

They slipped out of the archive and back into the corridor. The guards were still on their patrol, but they would be returning soon. Corvin and Lucian moved quickly, their footsteps silent on the stone.

They reached the exit just as the guards rounded the corner. Corvin pressed himself against the wall, his hand on his dagger. But the guards passed without noticing, their eyes fixed on the corridor ahead.

Corvin exhaled. "That was close."

"Too close." Lucian grabbed his arm. "Let’s get out of here before our luck runs out."

They fled the palace and made their way back to the academy, the stolen book hidden beneath Corvin’s cloak. The night was dark and cold, the moon still absent from the sky. But for the first time in weeks, Corvin felt something other than despair.

I have a lead, he thought. I have evidence. And I’m going to use it to find the truth.

In the Moon Court, Nyra sat alone in her chamber, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and even.

She had been training for hours, pushing herself to the limits of her endurance. The trainer had taught her how to focus her power, how to direct it, how to see into the mortal realm. But she still couldn’t interact. She could only watch.

Focus, she told herself. Reach out. Find them.

The silver light pulsed beneath her skin. The room around her faded, replaced by a vision.

She saw Soren first. He was standing in a dark corridor, his golden eyes blazing, his hand on his sword. He looked exhausted—his face pale, his jaw tight with tension. But he was alive. He was fighting.

Soren, she thought, reaching for him. I’m here. I’m right here.

But he couldn’t hear her. He couldn’t see her. She was a ghost, invisible and powerless.

The vision shifted. She saw Corvin, bent over a book in his laboratory. He looked tired too—dark circles under his eyes, his hair disheveled. But there was determination in his expression. He was close to something. She could feel it.

Corvin, she thought. Keep going. You’re almost there.

The vision shifted again. And this time, she saw something that made her blood run cold.

Finn.

He was standing in the shadows of the academy, his face illuminated by a single torch. He was talking to someone—a figure cloaked in black, their face hidden. But Nyra recognized the voice.

Elias.

"You need to be more careful," Elias was saying. "Soren is suspicious. He’s been following you."

"I know." Finn’s voice was calm, cold. "But he won’t find anything. I’ve been too careful."

"You’d better be. If he discovers the truth—"

"He won’t. I’ve been playing this game longer than he has." Finn smiled—a cold, cruel expression that made Nyra’s heart clench. "The prince is smart, but he’s blinded by grief. He’s not thinking clearly. By the time he realizes what’s happening, it will be too late."

Nyra wanted to scream. She wanted to reach through the vision and grab Finn, shake him, demand to know why. But she couldn’t. She could only watch.

The vision faded, and she was alone again.

No, she thought. No, no, no.

She had known Finn was a traitor. The goddess had shown her. But seeing it, hearing it made it real in a way that nothing else had. Her friend. Her roommate. The boy who had made her laugh when she wanted to cry.

He was a monster. And he was going to destroy them all.

I have to warn them, she thought. I have to find a way.

But how? She was trapped in the Moon Court, powerless to interfere. She could only watch as the people she loved walked into a trap.

Not powerless, Luna said. You’re getting stronger. Every day, you’re getting stronger. Soon, you’ll be able to do more than just watch.

When? When will I be able to do more?

I don’t know. But we’re not giving up. We’re never giving up.

Nyra dried her tears and stood up. She had training to do. She had power to master. And she had a realm to save.

I’m coming, she thought. I’m coming back. And when I do, I’ll make everything right.

In the shadows of the academy, Finn Harlan stood alone.

The meeting with Elias had been brief but necessary. The pieces were in place. The plan was moving forward. And soon—very soon—everything would change.

He thought of Ragnar. Of the way the scarred Alpha had held him in the garden, of the promises they had made to each other. We’ll go on a trip, Ragnar had said. Just the two of us.

Finn had smiled and nodded. He had kissed Ragnar and told him he loved him. And in that moment, he had meant it. He did love Ragnar. In his own twisted way, he loved him more than he had ever loved anyone.

But love was weakness. And Finn had learned long ago that weakness would destroy you.

I’m sorry, he thought, though he didn’t know who he was apologizing to. I’m sorry for what I have to do.

He turned and walked back toward the academy, his footsteps silent on the stone. The night was dark, the moon still absent from the sky.

Finn smiled.

Soon, he thought. Soon, everything will fall into place.