I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now I’m standing on the highest parapet of the Iron Court, barefoot on cold stone, the first light of dawn bleeding across the sky like a wound. The wind bites at my skin, sharp with frost and iron, but I don’t feel it. Not really. My body is still humming from the mating bite, from the bond sealing, from the crown forming in my hands like it was always meant to be there. My neck aches where Kael’s fangs broke the skin—hot, tender, claimed—but it doesn’t hurt. Not anymore. It feels like truth. Like home.
Like I finally belong.
Behind me, the fortress stirs—Alphas patrolling the walls, Betas reinforcing the gates, envoys whispering in shadowed corners. But they don’t stop me. Don’t question me. They feel it. The shift. The power. The truth. And they know—this dawn is different.
This is the first day of the new world.
Kael stands beside me, silent, still, his presence a storm. He hasn’t spoken since we left the sanctum. Hasn’t touched me beyond the brush of his thumb against my wrist—a grounding pulse, a silent promise. His gold eyes burn, his fangs just visible, his claws retracted but ready. He knows what’s coming. Knows that peace is fragile. Knows that even after truth, even after fire, even after love—
There will be war.
And he knows—
I don’t know if I can do this.
Not because I’m afraid.
But because I’m awake.
The Blood Moon Crown rests in my palm, warm, alive, hungry. It’s not heavy. Not cold. It pulses like a heartbeat, like it’s listening, waiting, remembering. It knows what we’ve done. What we’ve broken. What we’ve built.
And it knows—
The final battle is coming.
“They’ll come at dusk,” Kael says, voice low, rough. “Not with armies. Not with blades. But with whispers. With doubt. With the past.”
“Let them,” I say, pressing two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed. The bond hums beneath my skin, a live wire stretched taut, feeding me his strength, his rage, his love. But it’s not just his.
It’s mine.
And it’s awake.
“They’ll say I betrayed my people,” I say. “That I’ve chosen the monster who killed my mother. That I’ve abandoned my blood, my duty, my vengeance.”
“And you’ll say?”
“I’ll say they’re right,” I whisper. “I *have* betrayed her. Not by loving you. But by hating you for so long. By letting my grief blind me. By not seeing the truth until it was almost too late.”
He turns to me—gold eyes burning, fangs just visible in the torchlight. “You didn’t betray her,” he says. “You honored her. By surviving. By fighting. By choosing love over vengeance.”
“And if they don’t believe me?”
“Then they die,” he says, stepping forward. “And the world burns with them.”
I press my palm to the crown. It flares—golden light erupting across the parapet, the air crackling with magic. The torches blaze. The wind howls. The stone trembles.
“No,” I say. “They don’t die. Not today. Not like this.”
“Then what?”
“They face the truth,” I say. “And if they can’t bear it—” I lift my chin, gold eyes burning. “—then they fall.”
He studies me—gold eyes burning, fangs just visible in the torchlight. “You’re not just my mate,” he says. “You’re my equal.”
“And you’re mine,” I say. “Now let’s go remind them who we are.”
We descend the parapet in silence—fast, shadows against the stone. The fortress is stirring—Alphas patrolling the walls, Betas reinforcing the gates, envoys whispering in shadowed corners. The children we freed from the Hollow Throne are gathered in the inner courtyard, silent, small, free. They don’t speak. Don’t cry. Just watch, their wide eyes reflecting the golden light. They’ve seen enough death. Enough lies. Now they bear witness to something new.
Something true.
Riven steps forward, his face pale, his gold eyes sharp. “The scouts report movement in the eastern pass,” he says. “Fae. Dozens. Armed. They’re not hiding.”
“Good,” I say. “Let them come.”
“They’ll try to break you,” Riven says. “Not with blades. Not with magic. But with guilt. With the past.”
“Let them,” I say. “I’ve already broken. And I rebuilt myself from the pieces.”
He studies me. Then nods. “Then we stand with you.”
“Not behind me,” I say. “Beside me.”
He doesn’t smile.
Just bows his head. “Then we stand beside you.”
We move to the eastern gate—the ancient arch of black stone, its runes cracked, its chains rusted. The wind howls through the pass, carrying the scent of frost and blood. The sky is pale, the air crisp, the world holding its breath.
And then—
They come.
Not with war cries.
Not with fire.
With silence.
Fae warriors emerge from the mist—armed, armored, ready—their silver blades gleaming, their eyes cold. At their center—
Elder Solen.
One of the three Fae High Elders.
The woman who declared my mother a traitor.
The one who helped burn our temple to ash.
And now she’s here.
At my door.
Again.
“Morgana,” she says, voice echoing in the stone. “Daughter of the High Priestess. You stand before the Fae High Court.”
I press two fingers to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“I don’t,” I say, stepping forward, my dagger in hand, my back straight. “I stand before the woman who murdered my mother. Who framed her. Who burned our temple to hide their lies.”
“Silence,” she snaps. “You speak to your betters.”
“I speak to my enemies,” I say. “And I don’t kneel to murderers.”
She doesn’t flinch.
Just raises her hand.
And behind her—
Dozens more fae emerge from the mist.
Armed. Armored. ready.
“You have one choice,” she says. “Return to us. Renounce the wolf. Break the bond. And we will spare you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you are declared traitor,” she says. “And you will be branded. Hunted. Killed.”
“And Kael?”
“He will die,” she says. “And the Iron Court will burn.”
I don’t flinch.
Just press my palm to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“You don’t get to choose for me,” I say. “Not anymore. I’m not your weapon. I’m not your pawn. I’m not your daughter. I’m a queen. And I rule beside the man I love.”
“You love a monster,” she hisses.
“And you serve cowards,” I say. “Who let my mother die to protect their secrets. Who let Kael take the blame so they wouldn’t have to.”
“Silence!” she roars. “You will obey. Or you will die.”
“Then kill me,” I say, stepping forward. “But know this—” I raise my hand, the mating mark glowing. “—if you harm me, the bond will destroy you. If you harm him, I will burn your court to ash. And if you try to take what’s mine—” I lift my chin, gold eyes burning. “—I will make you regret the day you ever touched my mother’s blood.”
The runes on the ground ignite—golden light erupting across the ravine, the air crackling with magic. The torches blaze. The fae stumble back.
“The bond is confirmed!” one of them shouts. “The mate-mark is sealed!”
“And so is my choice,” I say. “I am not yours. I am his. And I will never bow to you again.”
She doesn’t answer.
Just turns and vanishes—cloak dissolving into mist, footsteps fading into silence.
And then—
Silence.
Just the wind. The stone. The bond.
Kael turns to me, his gold eyes burning. “They’ll come back,” he says.
“Let them,” I say. “Because if they do—” I press my palm to the mating mark on his chest. “—we’ll burn them together.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just pulls me into his chest, his arms locking around me, his heartbeat steady against my ear.
And I know—
Maybe I don’t have to win this war.
Maybe I don’t have to destroy them.
Maybe—
Maybe I can just belong.
I came here to kill the Wolf King.
And now—
I think I love him.
And worse—
I don’t want to be anyone else.
Because I don’t want to be free.
Because I don’t want to be anything but his.
The fortress hums with power. The golden light doesn’t fade. It grows—brighter, fiercer, alive. The children don’t move. Don’t speak. Just watch, their hands still on the floor, their eyes wide, their breaths shallow.
And then—
The Crown moves.
Not with magic.
Not with force.
With choice.
It rises—slow, deliberate—floating into the air, its veins of fae gold pulsing in time with our heartbeats. The light from the runes wraps around it, weaving into its core, feeding it, awakening it.
And then—
It speaks.
Not in words.
Not in sound.
In memory.
Golden light floods the courtyard, the air humming with power. And above the central sigil—
I see it.
Not a vision.
Not a prophecy.
A promise.
A world where truth is not silenced.
Where power is not hoarded.
Where love is not a weapon.
And where the throne—
Is not a crown.
But a choice.
The girl with silver hair steps forward. She looks at the Crown. Then at me. Then at Kael.
“Will you take it?” she asks. “Will you be our queen?”
I press my palm to the mating mark on my chest. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“I’m not your queen,” I say. “I’m your sister. Your protector. Your fire.”
She doesn’t smile.
Just nods.
And I know—
I’ve passed their test.
Not because I proved my power.
But because I proved my heart.
The Crown descends—slow, gentle—landing in my palm. It doesn’t burn. Doesn’t sear. Just hums—warm, alive, hungry.
And then—
It changes.
The golden light shifts—rippling like water, reforming into something new. Not a crown.
A ring.
But not of silver.
Not of ice.
Of fire.
Forged from golden light, threaded with veins of fae gold, humming with ancient power. It’s not just a ring.
It’s a heart.
“The Blood Moon Ring,” I whisper.
“The heart of the new world,” Kael says, stepping beside me. “The balance remade. The truth restored.”
I press my palm to the ring. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“We don’t need a throne,” I say. “We need a home.”
He studies me—gold eyes burning, fangs just visible in the torchlight. “Then let’s build one,” he says. “Together.”
“Not here,” I say. “Not in their ruins. Not in their lies. But in the light. In the truth. In the fire.”
He nods. “Then let’s go.”
I press my palm to the mating mark on my shoulder. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“We leave at dawn,” I say. “We go to the Iron Court. We go to the Ashen Circle. We go to the Crimson Spire. And we build a world where no child is silenced. Where no truth is buried. Where no one has to fight alone.”
The children gather around me—small, trembling, alive. Some hold hands. Some clutch my robes. Some just stand there, staring at the ring like they’ve never seen freedom before.
And then—
The girl with silver hair looks up at me.
“Will you take us?” she asks. “Will you be our queen?”
I press my palm to the mating mark on my chest. It pulses—warm, alive, claimed.
“I’m not your queen,” I say. “I’m your sister. Your protector. your fire.”
She doesn’t smile.
Just nods.
And I know—
I’ve passed their test.
Not because I proved my power.
But because I proved my heart.
We leave the fortress at dawn.
The children walk beside us—silent, small, free. The air is crisp, the sky pale, the wind whispering through the mountains. The black stone spires of the Iron Court rise behind us, its gates sealed, its lies buried.
But I don’t look back.
Kael at my side.
The Ring on my finger.
The children at my back.
And the wind—
It whispers.
“She’s coming.”