I woke to the chilling silence of the obsidian palace. The room was opulent, but the heavy, locked door on the far wall served as a constant reminder that this was a gilded cage, not a sanctuary.
The events of the dining hall felt less like a memory and more like a physical wound.
The shame was a cold, constricting knot in my stomach, but beneath it, a fever pulsed—the Moonfire was now fully awake, and with it, a new, dark companion.
I lifted my left wrist to the weak morning light filtering through the slit windows.
The silver crescent mark, the visible sign of the Prophecy, was clear and bright. But just beneath it, almost invisible in the shadow, was the faint, dark imprint of a coiled serpent.
The Basilisk mark.
Aunt Lydra and her serpentine kin had intended to humiliate and feed on my shame, and they had succeeded.
Yet, in the instant the bond was sealed, in that moment of absolute psychic and emotional overload, the Moonfire had acted like a lightning rod, not just discharging the energy, but somehow siphoning a fragment of the Basilisks' dark power in return.
It was terrifyingly beautiful. I had been broken, but in the shattering, I had become something more dangerous.
The scent of the three Alphas still clung to the room—Crown's raw, commanding earth; Kain's cold, sinful smoke; and Rhys's strong, stabilizing mountain air.
They were three sides of a deadly coin, and now I was irrevocably linked to all of them, the living anchor of their brutal Prophecy.
I knew now that running was not just impossible; it was pointless. My focus shifted from escape to survival, and from survival to understanding the weapons I now possessed.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sharp, duty-bound knock.
Rhys entered without waiting for permission, dressed in a black tunic that emphasized his powerful build.
He carried two steaming mugs but looked less like a comfort and more like an executioner delivering a final meal.
"Drink this," he commanded, placing a mug of strong, spiced tea on the bedside table.
"It will stabilize the residual bond energy. It's volatile after last night."
I wrapped the silk sheet around me and sat up, refusing to look away from his face.
"Did you feel any remorse, Alpha Rhys, or was the public spectacle just part of your duty?"
His jaw clenched, the muscle working under his skin. He didn't avoid the question. "I felt disgust for the circumstance," he admitted, his voice low and strained. "But the Prophecy demands the bond be visibly sealed before the Council.
Lydra merely forced the schedule. The emotional trauma was necessary to activate the next phase of the Moonfire."
"And what phase is that?" I countered, taking a tentative sip of the tea. It was bracing, sharp, and instantly calmed the restless hum in my chest.
"Acceptance," he said simply. "And power. When you incinerated that rogue, you showed the first potential of the Heir. When the Basilisks fed on your humiliation, they anchored that power to a baseline. You are no longer just human, and you can no longer pretend to be."
I pressed him further, leaning into the danger.
"Kain said I absorbed their power. The Basilisks don't donate energy." I held up my wrist, pointing to the barely visible serpent mark. "What is this?"
Rhys's eyes tracked the serpentine coil. His breath caught, and his composure finally cracked.
"The Basilisks are creatures of consumption," he explained, his voice hushed.
"They draw sustenance from the peak of dark emotion. But if a conduit—like the Moonfire—is strong enough, it can sometimes reverse the flow. You didn't just feel their hunger; you took a piece of their essence. This mark is a sign that you have become a dark conduit."
He walked closer, his proximity instantly making the air heavier.
"That power is unstable, unpredictable, and inherently lethal. You are now a weapon that can absorb psychic energy. You must learn to control it, or it will control you. And it will attract every dark faction in this territory."
His eyes were filled with deep, genuine concern—a look that felt startlingly sincere compared to the cruel calculation of Kain or the arrogant hunger of Crown.
"Thank you, Rhys," I murmured. It was the first time I had thanked any of them.
He nodded stiffly, his wolf instinct still overriding his man's emotion.
"The King is arranging a special security detail. He fears his sister, Lydra, will try to test your limits. I am currently your only guard in this wing. For now, you are safe." He paused at the door, his hand on the cold iron lock.
"But Crown is next. And he will not be satisfied with tea."
Rhys's warning proved accurate. He had barely secured the door behind him when I felt the shift in the hallway.
It wasn't the strong, earthy scent of Rhys returning. This was storm and ancient earth, mixed with something sharp, like crushed velvet and metallic command.
Crown.
He didn't knock. He simply unlocked the door and strode in, sealing the lock again with a heavy click that resonated in the silence.
He wore tight black trousers and a thin, open silk shirt that did nothing to hide the lean, predatory muscle beneath.
His bone circlet was already in place, making him look exactly like the Alpha from my terrifying future vision.
"Rhys left you alive," he observed, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "Good. I need to know the extent of the claim."
I pulled the silk up higher, feeling the sudden, familiar sting of shame mixed with the rising, dangerous heat of the Moonfire.
"The claim was made in front of your court. I believe it was quite thorough."
He moved, closing the distance between us with effortless grace, stopping inches from the bed. He was not looking at my eyes; he was looking at the marks.
"The public display was for them," he corrected, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that felt intensely intimate. "This is for us."
He settled on the edge of the bed. The weight of his body instantly made the mattress dip, trapping me in the silk sheets.
His scent—pure, undiluted Alpha—was overwhelming.
"You need to understand how the bond works now," Crown said, his hand lifting. He didn't ask; he simply took.
His large, warm hand closed over my ankle, his thumb resting on the delicate skin just above my heel.
"The humiliation activated the Moonfire's defense mechanism. The Basilisks fed, but you fed back. You carry the scent of our power and their darkness. That makes you irresistible to me."
He traced the line of my calf slowly, his fingers creating a searing path through the thin silk.
"But the bond is not stable. It is still a rivalry. I need to know where I stand. I need to know you recognize my claim, alone."
"What does that mean, Crown?" I asked, my voice barely a breath.
The liquid gold heat Rhys's tea had momentarily quelled was now rushing back, fiercer and demanding.
He chuckled, a sound as dark and dangerous as a crack of distant thunder.
"It means," he murmured, leaning closer until his lips hovered near my ear, "that every time the three of us are together, the power surges. But every time one of us touches you alone, the bond is tested. I want to know if my touch can wipe away the sensation of theirs."
His hand moved again, leaving my ankle to slide up the length of my thigh, pushing the silk higher and higher, until his fingers were grazing the most sensitive skin on my body. The movement was slow, deliberate, and excruciatingly dominating.
I gasped, the shock of his intimate touch making my body involuntarily arch.
The Moonfire pulsed with frantic energy, signaling its awareness of the male Alpha claiming it.
"This is what the court didn't get to see," Crown whispered, his voice dark with triumphant possession.
"The surrender. The recognition. The absolute need."
He pulled the sheet away, exposing my body to his dark gaze. His eyes fixed on the silver crescent on my wrist, and then slowly traveled down to the faint, dark serpent mark—the Basilisk's gift.
"The serpent," he breathed, tracing the dark coil with his index finger. The contact was electric, a strange fusion of cold, psychic power and physical heat.
"It is beautiful. And it is mine."
His hand remained anchored there, while his other hand came up, framing my face.
He leaned down and began to kiss me, not with Rhys's duty-bound passion or Kain's ruthless possession, but with a slow, consuming hunger.
His lips were soft, yet his intent was hard. He sought to erase everything but himself.
He lifted his hand from my wrist, only to replace it with his mouth, sucking lightly on the silver crescent mark.
The sensation was maddening; it was where the Moonfire lived, and his action felt like drinking straight from the source of my power.
A whimper escaped me.
My hands, acting with a mind of their own, tangled in his dark, thick hair, pulling him closer, demanding more.
His touch was a command I couldn't disobey, a primal need that bypassed my humiliation and reached straight for the core of my wildness.
Crown pulled back, his breathing heavy, his eyes dark with predatory satisfaction.
He moved his mouth from the bond mark, trailing a searing path along my neck, down over my collarbone, and then down to my chest.
He spent long, agonizing minutes paying homage to the power he had awakened, his lips and tongue a weapon of slow, deliberate pleasure.
The humiliation from the previous night was entirely forgotten, replaced by a reckless, urgent need for more.
The Moonfire was raging now, liquid gold demanding an outlet. My fingers clawed at his silk shirt, tearing it slightly, desperate to feel his skin against mine.
Crown, reading the surrender in my eyes, smiled—a terrifying, triumphant curve of his lips. He was winning the first test of the bond.
Then, his gaze flickered past me, toward the door.
The smile didn't fade, but it sharpened, taking on a cold, competitive edge
"She is mine, Kain," he announced, his voice carrying the distinct tone of a public declaration, even though he was looking only at me.
I turned my head, following his gaze, and saw him.
Kain.
He was standing framed in the doorway, having somehow breached Rhys's security. His red eyes were blazing like hot coals against the gloom of the hallway. He wasn't moving.
He was simply watching. His body was rigid, his hands fisted at his sides, but his eyes were filled with an intense, burning hunger that had nothing to do with wolf rivalry, and everything to do with the power radiating off my exposed body.
Crown reacted not by stopping, but by increasing the intimacy, staking his claim further under Kain's gaze.
He pressed his hips against mine, emphasizing the dominance of his body, and took my mouth again in a deep, consuming kiss that left no room for breath.
He used Kain's presence as an accelerant, forcing the bond's heat higher, until my mind was a fog of dark pleasure and possessive heat.
The psychic connection was overwhelming. I felt Crown's triumph surge through me, but beneath it, I felt Kain's agonizing restraint and his sharp, slithering need. It was the same cold, predatory energy I'd felt from Aunt Lydra.
Crown finally pulled back, satisfied. He stood, his chest heaving, his silk shirt torn.
He looked at Kain, a clear challenge in his eyes, then looked down at me, tracing the dark serpent mark on my thigh.
"Claiming complete," Crown declared, his voice ringing with victory.
He strode toward the door, leaving me panting, emotionally and physically drained, yet humming with volatile energy.
He stopped beside Kain. "Your turn, little brother. If you can handle the heat." Crown gave him a challenging, dismissive shove and left, locking the door behind him.
The air instantly cooled, the raw power replaced by Kain's heavy, smoky scent. I scrambled to pull the silk sheets over me, the shame rushing back with devastating force.
"You like to watch, Alpha Kain?" I challenged, my voice shaking with a mix of fury and frustrated arousal.
"Is that part of your Basilisk nature?"
He closed the door and leaned against it, his eyes fixed on me, the red glow dimming slightly as he regained control.
"I didn't watch for pleasure," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion.
"I watched to understand the bond's reaction to his touch. And to manage my own hunger."
He pushed off the door and moved to the window, staring out at the mountain range.
He seemed profoundly restless, contained, yet vibrating with suppressed energy.
"Lydra is my mother's sister," Kain finally admitted, his voice a low, cold rasp. "And I am not a pure Alpha wolf. I am a hybrid. My father was the Alpha King. My mother... was Basilisks' royalty. I am the strongest Basilisk-Wolf ever born into this pack. That is why my eyes burn red. They are Basilisk fire, not wolf gold."
The revelation was a punch to the gut. It explained his strange cruelty, his calculating nature, and his terrifying presence in the dining hall.
"So the humiliation..." I whispered, clutching the sheets. "It wasn't just to prove the bond. It was to feed your mother and her court."
"It was necessary for them to feed," he corrected.
"The Moonfire awakening created a feast for them. And for me. But that power is finite. The Basilisk half of me requires constant maintenance."
He turned back to face me, his eyes sharp and serious.
"The Basilisk strain is highly unstable. If I do not feed weekly, the dark power consumes me, and I become the Rogue that Rhys had to incinerate—a mindless monster. My wolf side holds the Basilisk in check, but the Basilisk side requires a constant, high-energy supply."
I swallowed hard, my mind racing through the dark implications. "How do you feed?"
Kain's lips curved into a cold, disturbing smile.
"Not like Lydra. That messy, emotional consumption is beneath me. I am more subtle. And far more efficient."
He paused, letting the tension build, the red glow in his eyes intensifying.
"I feed on the wet dreams of the entire palace."
I stared at him, unable to speak.
"The unconscious mind is the most unguarded," he explained with scientific detachment.
"When a mind is fully absorbed in a dream state of pleasure, it releases a potent, raw energy. I simply access the collective dreams of every soul in this palace—every guard, every servant, every Alpha—and consume the emotional power released at the moment of release. It is clean, efficient, and keeps my Basilisk half from devouring my wolf."
He walked over to the table and picked up Rhys's abandoned teacup, turning it over in his hand.
"And now," he continued, his gaze piercing, "You are here. You are the Heir. You are Moonfire. You are a conduit of Basilisk energy. Your dreams will be less about unconscious desire and more about raw, unbound power. You are the strongest source of energy in this building."
He dropped the teacup. It shattered on the marble floor.
"You have been in this palace for less than twenty-four hours, little one, and my feeding cycle is due at dawn tomorrow. You are my most potent source. And I do not feed by choice. I feed by absolute, desperate need. You need to sleep, and I need to live."
Kain walked back to the door, his gaze dropping to the new, dark serpent mark on my body.
"Lock your door, Heir," he commanded, his voice dark with a chilling mix of promise and threat. "But know that tonight, even in your dreams, you are not safe from me."
He left, leaving me alone in the room, terrified not of the rogues outside, but of the Alpha who would consume my unconsciousness—the dark power that was now coiled within my own blood.