Chapter 7

Before the tension escalates further, Lady Kaela intervenes, her voice smooth as silk.

“Perhaps we should focus on the matters at hand,” she says, tone light yet laced with enough steel to command the room. “After all, tonight is meant to strengthen bonds, not fray them.”

The room shifts, just slightly. Conversation steers itself into safer waters, but the undercurrent of unease lingers. Magnus casts a glance across the table at Alina. His expression is unreadable—calm, quiet—but there’s something behind his eyes. Concern, perhaps. Or frustration. Or something more dangerous.

Alina notices. She’s been watching him too, carefully, noting the way he sits so still in the storm of tense diplomacy. Calm. Collected. Unshaken. That’s Magnus Vorathiel—always poised, always veiled. If he can keep it together, then so can she. At least, that’s the lie she clings to.

…The Present…

Now the halls burn with chaos.

Screams split the air, bouncing off the stone corridors. Steel clashes in the distance. Deep, guttural growls echo—unnatural, primal. Smoke rolls through the stronghold like a living thing, drowning out the familiar scents of timber and stone, replacing them with ash and blood.

This isn’t a siege.

This is destruction.

Alina descends the stairs swiftly, flanked by six guards in tight formation. Her body moves with purpose, senses sharpened to a razor’s edge. Beneath her skin, her wolf snarls to be let free, pacing just beneath the surface. She holds it back—barely.

Not yet. Not until she understands who’s attacking and why.

The great hall comes into view.

Its tall windows glow with firelight—not the gentle flicker of torches, but the wild, consuming kind. Shapes move beyond the stained glass. Inside, figures shift in the dimness—armed, masked, and dangerous.

Her breath catches.

They wear no crests. No flags. No sigils. Just obsidian armor and expressionless masks. Ghosts, dressed in black steel. No allegiances. No humanity.

For a brief moment, she thinks they might be Hunters. But then her nose confirms what her eyes cannot.

Lycans.

A blade whistles through the air.

She pivots instinctively, bringing her own weapon up just in time to parry. The blow shudders through her bones. The attacker is strong, but she’s stronger. She doesn’t fall back—she drives forward.

Around her, the guards engage, forming a protective barrier.

Twenty against six.

The odds are abysmal.

But Alina doesn’t retreat.

They can win this.

They must.

And so, the fight begins.

Steel shrieks against steel. Firelight flashes off blood and blade. Alina moves like a phantom—fluid, unrelenting. Her strikes land with surgical precision. Each parry, each slash, is the result of years of training and hard-earned instinct.

She was made for this.

She was made to survive.

They came thinking Xalveria would fall.

They were wrong.

But the victory is steep.

As the final enemy collapses at her feet, silence falls heavy in the hall. Blood pools across the stone floor. Her chest heaves, her lungs dragging in smoke-laced air. Her leathers are torn, her arms marked in crimson. But she is still standing.

And no one else is.

The guards—every last one—are dead.

Her breath catches in her throat. She turns slowly, eyes sweeping over the fallen. These were her people. Her protectors. Men and women she trained with. Bled with.

Died for her.

Grief slams into her, hot and unbearable. But before the silence can swallow her whole—

Clapping.

Slow. Sarcastic. Measured.

She spins, claws extending with a vicious snap.

A voice follows. Smooth. Familiar. Mocking.

“Well done, love. You put up quite the fight. Can’t say the same for your guards though…”

Her heart freezes.

She knows that voice.

From the shadows, he emerges—gold hair catching the firelight, face calm, expression unreadable. Armor stained with blood. A sword at his hip.

Magnus.

Her voice cracks. “Magnus?”

He steps fully into view. There’s no remorse on his face. No urgency. No guilt.

Only stillness. Only control.

Sinister control.

Alina’s steps falter as she moves toward him. Her legs tremble beneath her, exhaustion pressing down like iron. The pain from her wounds fades rapidly thanks to her accelerated healing, but nothing can numb the gnawing ache in her chest. A void that grows deeper with every breath.

“Magnus…” she whispers. Her eyes search his face, desperate for something familiar. A flicker of recognition. A sign this is some cruel illusion.

He says nothing.

“What… what are you talking about?” Her voice wavers. “We have to go. We have to get out of here—”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Alina.” His voice is cold. Absolute. “Don’t you see it yet? Don’t you understand?”

She stumbles forward another step, arms raised halfway between pleading and self-defense. “This wasn’t you… It couldn’t have been you…”

Even as she speaks, her heart knows the truth.

“What does it look like to you?” Magnus asks, tilting his head slightly. His tone is almost amused.

Her stomach lurches. The truth sharpens, impossible to deny.

“You… you betrayed me?” The words fall out of her mouth like broken glass. “You orchestrated the attack on my family… Tell me that’s not what this is. Please…”

Tears blur her vision, finally breaking through. Her body trembles—not from injury, but from something deeper. Grief. Disbelief. Rage.

A low chuckle escapes Magnus. It echoes across the stone walls, thick with contempt.

“Ah, Alina,” he says. “Still so naive.”

“Naive?” Her voice rises, cutting through the air. Her fists clench until claws pierce her own palms. “I trusted you. We all did. You said you’d stand with me. You promised—”

“And you believed me.” The smile fades from his lips, replaced with a glare sharp enough to wound. “That’s on you.”

Alina stands frozen.

Blood trickles from her clenched fists. Tears trace lines through the ash and grime on her cheeks. Her body aches from the battle. Her soul from the betrayal.

Everything she’s built—her trust, her bonds, her kingdom—crumbles before her.

And Magnus stands at the center of it, watching her fall apart, untouched.

He brought it all down.

And he did it smiling