The witch's chamber was dim, lit only by flickering candles and the soft glow of moonlight spilling through tall windows. Though her presence was calm and composed, her mind was alive with memories older than the palace walls themselves.
She traced the edge of a worn parchment with her fingers, recalling a time before Kael Draven's birth, before the curses and schemes that now entwined the Silver Moon bloodline.
Rathen Draven. Her gaze softened slightly at the name. The Alpha's father had been young, impetuous, yet undeniably magnetic. He had captivated hearts without even trying. And none had fascinated him more than Elara Veyra, a woman of quiet strength, with eyes that seemed to read into the soul.
She remembered their secret meetings beneath the silvered canopy of the elder forests, their laughter echoing like music among the trees. How Rathen had been torn between duty and desire, how Elara had been steadfast, refusing to bow to the expectations of the pack.
And then… the inevitability of politics. The harsh necessity that had driven Rathen to choose his mate, leaving Elara behind, a casualty of bloodline and duty. The witch had been there, powerless in her youth, yet forever marked by the heartbreak she had witnessed.
Now, decades later, she watched as history threatened to repeat itself. Serina's impatience, Isolde's arrogance, the subtle rise of Lyria—all echoes of that long-past sorrow and cunning.
The witch exhaled, voice low and thoughtful. "Power shifts, hearts falter, and yet… the truth remains. Kael will not be controlled as his father once tried to be."
A soft knock at the door pulled her attention. Serina's voice was tentative, yet sharp: "Mother… I've summoned you because I need guidance. I… I cannot falter again."
The witch's eyes narrowed. "And yet, you summon me after your schemes stumble. Why call me now, when you could have learned from patience?"
Serina's lips pressed into a thin line. "I trusted your wisdom. I will not fail, not again. Lyria… she grows too quickly. And the Alpha—he… I cannot reach him!"
The witch's hand rested lightly on the edge of the table. "Lyria, yes… she is no ordinary maiden. She carries strength that cannot be hidden for long. But that is not your concern yet. Your concern is understanding the currents around you, the choices of the Alpha, and the truth that binds all of you."
Outside the chamber, the palace subtly shifted. Guards, concubines, and servants felt the faint ripple of change, though they mistakenly attributed it to Isolde's rising influence. Only Kael, Lyria, Riven, and the most loyal servants understood the truth.
In the gardens, Lyria moved among the herbs, tending carefully to each plant. But suddenly, a wave of dizziness swept through her. Her hands shook, and her vision blurred. The warmth she had felt earlier—the subtle connection stirring in her body—exploded into a dizzying realization. She collapsed, unable to stay on her feet.
Kael, standing on the balcony above, saw her falter. His wolf stirred violently, instincts screaming. Without a second thought, he leapt down to the gardens in a blur of motion, catching Lyria in his arms before she could hit the stone paths.
"Lyria!" he growled, his amber eyes wide with alarm. "Stay with me!"
He carried her swiftly through the palace corridors to her chambers, his guards flanking him silently, aware of the urgency yet careful not to intrude. Kael placed her gently on her bed, brushing damp strands of hair from her face.
"Riven," he barked, voice taut with concern, "bring the healer. Now!"
Within moments, the healer arrived, a calm presence amidst the panic. After examining her, the healer's eyes widened slightly before they met Kael's. "Alpha… she is with child."
The words hit him like a storm. His amber gaze fixed on Lyria, whose breath was slow and steady now but whose cheeks were flushed with both shock and warmth. "She… she's pregnant?" he whispered, voice low, almost disbelieving.
"Yes," the healer confirmed. "The signs were subtle at first. She must rest, and the truth… will change everything."
Kael's jaw clenched, muscles taut under his skin. His wolf growled low, restless. He bent over her, taking her hand gently, amber eyes searching her own. "Lyria… this… this changes everything. But I… I will protect you. No one will harm you."
Outside her chambers, the palace continued to hum with subtle shifts. The currents of power, the schemes of Serina and Isolde, the attention of the elders—they all now faced a change that none had anticipated. And within the private walls of Lyria's room, the Alpha and his mate—fated and bound by more than passion—stood at the cusp of a new chapter.