The throne room was silent now—truly silent. Not the charged hush of power or the trembling breath before a storm, but the deep, still quiet of aftermath. The torches burned low, their blue flames flickering like dying stars, casting long shadows across the cracked mosaic floor. The sigils etched into the stone had dimmed, no longer pulsing with silver fire, but they hummed faintly beneath my skin, a quiet echo of what had just happened.
I was still seated on the throne.
Not because I needed to be.
Because I could.
My fingers curled around the armrest, the carved sigils warm beneath my palm. This throne—mine—wasn’t just a seat of power. It was a declaration. A reckoning. A promise. And as I sat there, Kael at my side, the weight of it settled into my bones, not as a burden, but as a truth I could no longer deny.
I wasn’t here to destroy.
I was here to rule.
And not beside him.
With him.
“They’re gone,” I said, my voice low, barely above a whisper.
Kael didn’t answer right away. He stood beside me, his coat flaring behind him like a storm held at bay, his silver eyes scanning the empty hall. The Council had left without ceremony, their presence dissolving into the Veil like smoke in moonlight. No farewells. No oaths. No promises. Just silence—and the quiet revolution of their words: united.
“Not all of them,” he said finally, his voice rough, edged with something darker.
I turned my head.
At the far end of the hall, near the shattered archway, a figure stood in shadow.
Silas.
His golden wolf eyes glowed in the dim light, his stance relaxed but ready, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched us—me—with an intensity that made my skin prickle.
“He’s been there the whole time,” I murmured.
“Of course he has,” Kael said. “He’s my Beta. My shadow. My conscience.”
I almost smiled. Almost.
Instead, I rose from the throne, the sigils flaring once—soft, golden—before settling into a quiet hum. My boots clicked against the stone as I stepped down from the dais, the sound echoing through the empty hall. Kael followed, silent, his presence like a storm at my back.
We stopped a few paces from Silas.
“You didn’t leave with them,” I said.
“No,” he said, his voice calm, steady. “I wanted to see it for myself.”
“See what?”
“That you’re not just a weapon,” he said, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “That you’re not just a threat. That you’re… her.”
I didn’t flinch. Just tilted my head, studying him. Silas had always been an enigma—loyal to Kael, yes, but never blind. He’d watched me from the beginning, silent, observant, his gaze sharp with something I couldn’t name. Not suspicion. Not judgment.
Understanding.
“And what do you see now?” I asked.
He didn’t answer right away. Just stepped forward, his boots silent on the stone, and knelt—not in submission, but in respect. His head bowed, his hands open at his sides.
“I see the woman who broke the Oath,” he said. “The woman who stood before the Council and claimed her mate. The woman who faced Vexis and lived.”
He looked up, his golden eyes burning.
“I see my Queen.”
The word hit me like a blade to the chest.
Queen.
Not prisoner.
Not weapon.
Not half-blood.
Not outcast.
Queen.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him, my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding like a war drum. And then—
Kael stepped forward.
He didn’t touch Silas. Just stood beside me, his coat flaring behind him, his silver eyes sharp.
“You don’t have to kneel,” he said.
“I know,” Silas said. “But I want to.”
And then—
He rose.
Not slowly. Not hesitantly.
But with purpose.
“I’ve served you for decades,” he said, his voice low, steady. “I’ve followed your orders. I’ve killed for you. I’ve bled for you. But I’ve never seen you like this.”
He looked at Kael, really looked at him.
“You’re not just surviving anymore. You’re alive. And it’s because of her.”
Kael didn’t answer. Just turned his head, his silver eyes meeting mine.
And in that look—
I saw it.
Not just the vampire prince.
Not just the cold controller.
But the man.
The one who had loved me even when I’d tried to kill him.
The one who had let me claim him.
The one who had just made me his.
And gods help me—
I had never wanted anything more.
“We’re not done,” I said, breaking the silence. “Vexis is still out there. The Dark Council is still moving. And the world is still watching.”
“Then we’ll be ready,” Kael said.
“And if they come for us?” Silas asked.
“Then we’ll break them,” I said, stepping forward, my boots clicking against the stone. “Together.”
Silas didn’t argue. Just nodded, his golden eyes sharp, his stance relaxed but ready. “Then let them come.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty.
It was full.
Full of breath. Of blood. Of magic still crackling in the air like embers after a fire. Full of the weight of what we’d just done. Full of the truth we could no longer deny.
We weren’t just survivors.
We weren’t just rebels.
We were rulers.
And the world would learn to bow.
“We should go,” I said, turning toward the hall’s entrance. “Before the whispers turn to riots. Before the fear turns to war.”
“Where?” Kael asked.
“The Blood Archive,” I said. “If Vexis is still out there, he’ll be looking for a way back in. And if he’s looking for a way back in, he’ll be looking for the Oath ledger.”
Kael didn’t argue. Just nodded, his coat flaring behind him as he fell into step beside me. Silas followed, a shadow at my back.
The halls of Shadowveil Court were quiet—too quiet. The vampires watched from the arches, their golden or silver eyes sharp, their presence humming with tension. The werewolves tensed at my scent. The witches whispered as I passed.
They weren’t afraid of me.
They were afraid of what I represented.
Freedom.
Truth.
Love.
And then—
We reached the Blood Archive.
The heavy iron doors were sealed with enchanted chains, the sigils carved into the stone glowing faintly. But something was wrong.
The air was too still.
The silence too deep.
And then—
I smelled it.
Blood.
Not fresh.
But old.
Dried.
And magic—dark, twisted, wrong.
“Someone’s been here,” I said, my hand rising to the hilt of my dagger.
Kael didn’t answer. Just stepped forward, his fingers brushing the chains. The sigils flared—silver, then black—before cracking like glass.
The doors swung open.
And then—
We saw it.
The Oath ledger—shattered.
The ancient book lay in pieces on the stone floor, its pages torn, its ink smeared, the blood seals broken. But that wasn’t what made my breath catch.
It was the symbol carved into the floor.
A circle.
Inside it—a twisted sigil of binding.
And in the center—
A drop of blood.
Fresh.
Still glistening.
“It’s a ritual,” I said, my voice low. “Not just a break-in. A summoning.”
“For what?” Silas asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, stepping forward, my boots cracking against the stone. “But it’s not over.”
Kael knelt beside the ledger, his fingers brushing the torn pages. His jaw clenched, his fangs retracted but present.
“He’s not just trying to come back,” he said. “He’s trying to rewrite it.”
“Rewrite what?” I asked.
“The Oath,” he said, rising. “He’s not just trying to reclaim power. He’s trying to invert it. Turn it into a weapon. A curse.”
I didn’t answer. Just stepped forward, my fingers brushing the sigil on the floor. The moment I touched it—
Fire ripped through my veins.
Not pain.
But memory.
My mother—on her knees.
The blade descending.
The Oath breaking.
And then—
Vexis.
Standing over her, his eyes black with power, his voice a whisper.
“The chain is broken. But the master remains.”
I gasped, jerking my hand back.
“It’s a trap,” I said, my voice shaking. “He’s not just trying to come back. He’s trying to lure us. To make us break it again. To make us fail.”
Kael didn’t flinch. Just stepped beside me, his hand brushing mine. The bond flared—hot, immediate—but not with fire. Not with pain.
With truth.
“Then we won’t play his game,” he said. “We’ll make our own.”
I turned to him, my silver-lavender eyes locking onto his silver ones.
“And if it costs us everything?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Just reached for me, his fingers brushing the edge of my jaw, and pulled me down.
Our lips crashed together—soft, not angry, not desperate. A promise. A vow. A claim.
And then—
The bond screamed.
Fire ripped through my veins, magic surging between us, lighting the sigils on the floor until the entire chamber blazed with silver light. I could taste him—dark wine and winter pine and something fierce—and for one reckless second, I forgot why I was here. Forgot the Council. Forgot the truce. Forgot everything but the way his lips felt beneath mine.
And then—
We broke apart.
Breathless. Shaking. Alive.
“We’ll break him,” I said, stepping forward, my boots clicking against the stone. “Together.”
Kael didn’t answer.
Just reached for me, his fingers brushing the edge of my jaw, and pulled me down.
“Now,” I whispered, “we finish it.”
And the moon—
The moon was watching.