Chapter 6
Astareth Summit—Western Wing, Council Chamber
The sconces burned low, flickering shadows licking the stone walls. Eris stood before the heavy oak door, pulse thudding in her ears. She had spent the day clinging to one belief: that he would understand. Stephan had always stood beside her, but something inside whispered otherwise. Not this time.
She shoved the doubt away. No, Stephan had never let her down. He would not start now.
She knocked.
Silence.
Her fingers curled into her palm. She knocked again, harder.
Still nothing.
She drew a slow breath, hesitated, then pushed the door open.
Inside, the fire burned low. Shadows stretched long across the study, waiting.
The air smelled of parchment and steel, of Stephan.
But tonight, there was no warmth in it. He stood behind his desk, spine rigid, shoulders tight.
A parchment trembled in his hands. Eris froze.
“Stephan?”
No response.
He crushed the parchment in his fist. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, disbelieving.
“Eris. Tell me this is not true.”
The words struck sharp. Her stomach twisted.
“What is?”
He exhaled hard through his nose and slammed the parchment onto the desk. The Dragov Watchers’ seal gleamed in the firelight, wax split clean. Their reports landed on his desk before the kings, before the council, because he decided what mattered. His voice dropped, dangerously controlled.
“The Watchers saw you enter pack territory.” He swallowed hard, like the words tasted all wrong. “With Kareon Duskbane.” His throat worked, as if forcing out the truth. “And you came out hours later.”
The room shrank. For a single, fragile second, she considered lying, but that wasn’t who she was. Not with Stephan. She lifted her chin.
“It is true.”
Stephan just stared, silent, like his mind was still trying to reject what his ears had heard. His breath turned sharp and uneven.
“Eris, what have you done?”
The quiet devastation in his voice pressed deep into her ribs. She stepped closer.
“I needed answers.”
His laugh snapped, sharp and bitter. “So you thought waltzing into enemy territory was the way to get them?” He raked a hand through his hair, already pacing. “You could have been killed. Taken. Or worse.”
She had expected his anger, but she hadn’t expected him to look so broken.
“I had no choice.”
He stopped mid-stride and turned sharply.
“No choice? You had every choice. You could have come to me. Waited. Trusted me—” He stopped himself, breath heavy, hands braced against the desk, knuckles white.
Eris’s jaw tightened. “I couldn’t wait. I needed to know why I’m not like everyone else.
Why I feel things I shouldn’t feel. Why I hear voices no one else hears.
” Her voice was raw, tight with desperation.
“And I am here. Isn’t that enough? I walked into their territory and came back.
If it was a trap, I wouldn’t be standing here, would I? ”
Stephan’s head snapped up. “That’s not the point!”
Her chest ached as the moment slipped through her fingers. He wasn’t listening. Still, she pressed on. “The shaman didn’t just explain the whispers. He told me about Seraphina. About why I hear them.”
His expression flickered, just for a second, a fear he refused to name. Then he shut it down.
“Seraphina tried to reunite our people, Stephan. She tried to end the war. But she failed.” Eris swallowed. “And now, she speaks through me.”
His breath left him. “Eris…”
She steadied herself. “I have her gift. I feel people’s emotions, stronger than anyone should. It’s growing. I know it’s real.” Stephan went still. Her voice softened. “If I don’t finish what she began…everything she died for will burn with us.”
Silence stretched between them. Then his lips parted, his voice flat with disbelief, like he couldn’t quite fathom she meant what she had said.
“You’re serious.”
Her stomach twisted. He wasn’t asking; he thought she’d lost her mind. And that hurt more than anything.
Stephan stepped back, shaking his head. “No, Eris. They’re using you.” His voice tightened, like the words barely fit. “They saw an opportunity and fed you a story. And you…you’re actually falling for it!”
Eris’s nails dug into her palms. She stepped closer, frustration rising like heat beneath her skin.
“This is not about belief, Stephan. You think I want this?” Her voice wavered, then found its edge. “This is about truth.”
His eyes darkened, not just with anger but something sharper. Jealousy.
“Truth? You think I don’t see it?” Eris stiffened. His gaze locked onto hers, seething. “Kareon.”
Her breath hitched. “What?”
“The mighty Lycan Alpha.” Stephan’s voice curled with disdain. “I have seen how he looks at you. He doesn’t need to lay a finger to pull people apart. He just waits and watches. And takes. What did he tell you? That you are special? That he understands you?”
Her pulse spiked. “This is not about Kareon,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Isn’t it?” His voice dropped. “Or are you just blind to it?”
Her temper snapped. “Stephan, that is not—”
"Oh, let me guess. He sees you, and suddenly you are the one thing he’s been searching for?”
The words hit like a slap. Eris stepped back, stung.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Stephan exhaled sharply. He hadn’t meant to say it like that, not with that bitterness, that edge. Not when he could already feel her slipping away. Regret flashed in his eyes, but he said nothing.
Eris looked at him and saw the distance in his silence, the door he had closed without a word. Pain coiled deep in her chest, but she wouldn’t let it break her. He had to understand. She inhaled, steadying herself.
“I saw your future.” Stephan froze. “The spirits showed me a broken king, ruling over a kingdom drowned in blood.” His breath hitched. Her voice trembled. “I have no choice, Stephan. I won’t let that happen to you!”
Something inside him snapped. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly.
“This is all nonsense!”
Eris tore herself free, vision blurring. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. He didn’t believe her. He never would. The weight of that truth pressed so hard into her chest, she thought it might break her.
“When the kings find out, you will have no choice but to drop this.”
She stilled, drew a slow breath. “The kings will only know if you tell them.”
Stephan went rigid. A muscle feathered in his jaw. Eris stepped closer. Her voice was quiet but cutting. “And we both know nothing reaches their ears unless you decide it should.”
She saw the words land, watched realization crash into him like a tide. The commander of the Dragov Legions, the final barrier between her fate and the throne.
His silence said everything.
Something inside her shattered. She had thought love would be enough, but clearly, it wasn’t. Not this time.
She turned, though her feet felt heavy, as if some part of her still waited for him to call her back.
He didn’t.
Her breath shuddered, but she kept walking. And when the door closed behind her, it felt like losing something she wasn’t ready to let go.
Stephan stood frozen, his pulse a sharp drumbeat in his ears. The report lay abandoned on his desk. He should send it to the kings. That was his duty. The only choice. And yet, his fingers didn’t move. His heartbeat pounded violently. Because the moment he sent it, he would lose her.
He wanted to dismiss her words as lies. Delusions. But a crack had formed, a whisper of doubt he could not silence.
What if she wasn’t wrong?
The doubt festered, and he hated it. But he could not ignore it. So, he did the one thing he never thought he would do. He went looking for the truth.
Stephan told no one where he was going. Part of him knew he would be seen as a traitor. Another part didn’t care.
The ancient doors of the Dragov Library, deep within Dragov Castle, groaned under his push. Dust spiraled in the dim light from the tall windows. The scent of parchment and candle wax filled the cavernous space, where centuries of history loomed in endless rows.
He moved deeper into the labyrinth, boots striking hollow echoes across the stone. The weight of his family’s past, a legacy he once believed unshakable, pressed with every step. He would find what he was looking for or prove, once and for all, that Eris was chasing ghosts.
One by one, he tore through the archives: laws, rebellions, trials. Nothing. He rifled through bloodlines, ancient treaties, battle records. Still nothing. Seraphina Dragov didn’t exist.
He exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of a shelf. That was not possible. Every Dragov name, every ruler, every betrayal was documented in excruciating detail. So why was she missing? Someone had erased her.
Just as he turned to leave, something caught his eye, a book wedged between two dusty tomes, as if hidden. He reached for it, fingers brushing the worn binding. Its weight surprised him—heavy, as though something more than paper lay inside. His breath caught when he saw the cover.
A dagger, carved deep into the leather, marked it like a wound. It looked as if it had once housed a blade, long since removed. Faded gold filigree framed a title in spidery Latin: Veritas Sanguine Scripta.
His pulse pounded as he murmured the translation. “Truth Written in Blood.”
Something twisted in his gut. The phrase was both a promise and a warning. Carefully, he pried the book open, anticipation and dread tangling in his chest.
The pages were blank.
He flipped through them faster. Still blank. No ink. No words. Just silence. Was this a joke?
“This has to be it,” he muttered, voice hoarse with frustration. His fingers dragged over the parchment, as if the truth lay just beneath the surface.
Nothing.
His jaw locked. The book sat open on his lap, its empty pages mocking him.
Then a sudden gust of cold air swept through the library, wrong.
Stephan froze.