"Get moving, rogue."
A spear's butt slammed into Seraphina's back.
She stumbled forward, barefoot and bound, her ripped garment trailing behind her like a banner of shame. Each step sent pain screaming up her spine.
The obsidian gates of the Lycan palace opened in utter silence.
Seraphina gasped.
Beyond them stretched an enormous hall of black stone that seemed to have no end. Pillars lined the chamber, carved into howling wolves, their bodies veined with silver that pulsed faintly with unearthly light.
At the far end sat Kael Draven, the Lycan King.
His throne was fashioned from twisted bone and jagged obsidian.
A guard snarled behind her, "Don't look up. You're not deserving."
Seraphina lifted her chin anyway.
She couldn't tell which hurt more—the weight of every eye in the throne room crashing into her like knives, or the wounds screaming beneath her skin.
Warriors and nobility alike lined the court. Lycans murmured among themselves, their voices low and poisonous.
"Is that… an Omega?"
"She crossed the border?"
"She smells like rogue blood."
"She should be dead already."
"Blasphemy."
Kael did not move.
At first glance, he was more shadow than man. His posture was languid, regal. A midnight cloak draped his shoulders, silver-threaded pauldrons catching the torchlight.
His eyes—old, dark, unfathomable—were fixed on Seraphina alone.
"She was found in the outer dunes, my King," a soldier announced. "Trespassing on sacrosanct land."
Lord Varyn, Kael's senior advisor, stepped forward with a grunt.
"A rogue Omega in Lycan territory," he said, contempt dripping from his voice. "That is a death sentence by decree. Shall we dispose of the body quietly, or execute her here?"
"Wait."
Kael's voice rolled through the chamber, smooth and deep, like the first rumble of an oncoming storm.
The room went cold.
Despite the dizziness threatening to pull her under, Seraphina forced herself to stand straighter. Her lips were cracked. Her skin pallid. Copper hair clung limp to her face, heavy with sweat and grime.
Yet something in her gaze—defiant, unbroken—made the wolves uneasy.
Kael rose from his throne.
It wasn't the movement that sent unease through the hall.
It was the way silence bowed to him.
As he descended the obsidian steps, every whisper died. Every breath stilled. He moved like a god certain the ground would quake beneath his feet.
"Bring her forward," he commanded.
She was shoved to the foot of the stairs.
The silver cuffs burned as she stumbled, barely catching herself before her knees gave out completely.
Kael stopped before her.
His beard did nothing to soften the severity of his features. His jaw was sharp, shadowed, unyielding. Heat and authority radiated from him in waves.
He studied her not like a man judging a prisoner, but like a predator trying to remember where he had seen this prey before.
"What is your name?" he asked.
Her lips split as she spoke. "Seraphina."
"And what are you?"
She froze.
The trap was clear.
"I'm alive," she said instead.
A murmur rippled through the court.
Varyn growled, "You mock the throne?"
"She didn't answer because she doesn't know," Kael cut in calmly.
He began to circle her.
"Do you?" he asked.
Seraphina followed him with her eyes. "If that's what you're asking," she said hoarsely, "I'm not yours."
"Not yet."
The words dropped like stones into water.
No one moved.
"You crossed a sacred border," Kael continued, stopping in front of her. "It should have burned you alive. Yet you survived."
"I fled from worse," she said.
His reply came soft—too soft.
"There is nothing worse than me."
"My King," a young noblewoman interjected, her voice sharp with disdain. "She is beneath us. No clan. No rank. No ancestral scent. She's polluted."
"Then why didn't the land reject her?" Kael asked quietly. "Why did the border allow her to live?"
No one answered.
A few nobles laughed nervously.
Seraphina's vision blurred.
Her knees buckled.
She collapsed.
Kael did not react with disgust.
Instead, he knelt.
At eye level, his expression softened—just barely.
"Do you want to live?" he asked.
"No," she whispered. "But I'm not ready to die."
For a heartbeat, something ancient passed between them. Unspoken. Familiar.
Then Kael stood.
"Court."
All heads snapped toward him.
"I claim her."
Gasps exploded through the hall.
Varyn staggered a step forward. "She's what?"
"You cannot—"
"Mine," Kael said again.
The word cracked like thunder.
Several soldiers dropped to one knee instantly. Others froze, torn between disbelief and obedience.
"Kael!"
Astrid's voice sliced through the chaos.
She strode forward, black-and-silver robes flowing like liquid shadow. Once promised to the King, she still carried herself as if he belonged to her.
"You cannot keep her," Astrid snarled. "She's a parasite."
Without looking at her, Kael said, "Then you will treat her as one under my protection."
A trembling courtier whispered, "And if we refuse?"
Kael turned.
Silver ignited in his eyes.
"I punish traitors the same way."
Silence fell like snow.
Even Astrid fell quiet, though her eyes darkened with fury.
"Kneel," Kael commanded.
One by one, the court obeyed.
Seraphina remained standing—barely conscious, swaying.
Kael descended the final step and stopped before her.
"You'll be protected," he murmured. "For now. You'll rest."
"Why?" she breathed.
"Because the Moon remembers you," he said, tilting his head, "even if you've forgotten yourself."
"What?" she whispered.
Her body gave out.
Kael caught her before she hit the floor.
A soft silver glow bloomed at her chest, pulsing like moonlight beneath skin.
Gasps erupted—this time not from fear.
"The mark," someone whispered.
"It can't be…"
The light faded.
Kael's gaze hardened.
"To my Beta," he ordered, "find out what she is—and why the moon claims her."
He carried Seraphina from the throne room himself.
Long after he vanished, the court remained kneeling.
"He carried her… with his own hands?" whispers spread.
Lord Varyn paced like a restless wolf, the empty obsidian throne looming behind him.
"This will shatter everything," he spat.
Astrid stood frozen before the altar of oaths, rage simmering beneath her porcelain calm.
"She's manipulating him," she said coldly.
"My lady," a courtier said uneasily, "she fainted."
"He always falls for broken things," Astrid snapped.
A deep growl echoed somewhere unseen.
The doors creaked open.
Kael returned alone.
Astrid dared to ask, "Where is she?"
"Safe," Kael replied.
The word was law.
"My King," Varyn said carefully, "this defies protocol. The council must approve any addition to the High Ward—especially one so unvetted."
"She is not your concern," Kael said. "She is under my protection."
Astrid stepped forward. "She has no allegiance. Her blood is strange. Her scent is wrong. What if she's a spy?"
"Then let them come," Kael said flatly. "I'll burn them all."
"Have you lost your mind?"
"No," he said. "I'm being merciful."
Murmurs spread.
"Mercy has never been your nature."
"No," Kael said icily. "But it is hers."
"Then test her," Varyn pressed. "The moonstone."
"You want her tried before she can stand?" Kael asked.
Astrid sneered. "Better now than after she grows powerful under your name."
"You fear strength in the wrong woman," Kael said quietly.
At dawn, he spoke again.
"Very well. She will face the moonstone."
Varyn bowed, approval flickering in his eyes.
"Until then," Kael warned, "no one touches her. No one approaches her chamber. Disobedience will be treated as treason."
He turned away.
Astrid watched him go, a cruel smile forming.
"Then let her trial begin sooner."