Chapter 10 #2
The back of his neck prickled, his spine tensing. A whisper—not a voice, but the feeling of one—brushed the edge of his mind, like breath against thought. He turned, but there was no one.
Then came the footsteps, fast, closing in.
Theon burst inside, pale and breathless. “They took her.”
Adrian stiffened. Stephan stilled. The words didn’t make sense. His mind rejected them. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else.
Slowly, too slowly, he turned to Theon. “What?”
Theon’s chest heaved, his breath still uneven, as if he had run straight through the halls without stopping. His expression was tight, pulled between rage and something closer to fear. “They came into the hall,” he said. “The Obsidian Guard. They called it conspiracy.”
Stephan’s stomach dropped, but Theon wasn’t finished.
“They handcuffed her,” he forced out, voice raw. “Dragged her. In front of everyone.”
The words landed like a blow, striking deep. The walls around him felt smaller, his breath became shallow. They had taken her. His Eris.
His mind snapped to Avaristo. For years, the Firstblood had been the final barrier between Avaristo and total control over Goznoth.
He tested, provoked, manipulated, but the Dragov kings held firm, countering with political prowess, military force, and legacy-born influence.
Diplomacy failed. Bribery failed. Intimidation failed. But now, he had found the crack.
Eris.
She was a Dragov by name but an anomaly in action, noble and unpredictable, straddling both worlds. To Avaristo, she was a weapon. Her arrest was a warning, a challenge. He had drawn his line, and Stephan knew this was war.
His chair scraped back, palms slamming the desk.
“There’s no time to waste.” His gaze swept to Adrian and Theon.
"Gather the war council. Mobilize the Royal Guard.
I want every unit on high alert. This could be a show of power, a message meant to intimidate us, or the start of something far worse. Either way, we prepare for both."
Theon’s muscles coiled, tension rolling off him in waves. His jaw tightened as he nodded. A soldier ready for orders.
Adrian adjusted his cuffs with deliberate precision. His silence wasn’t hesitation. It was agreement.
Stephan didn’t hesitate. He reached for the Royal Comm Link, a sleek, encrypted device worn only by the Dragov inner circle, linked to the secured war network. His thumb pressed against the biometric scanner. The interface flickered to life, two names blinking on screen.
King Yori Dragov. His uncle.
King Raphael Dragov. His father.
The time for defense was over. It was time to strike back. He activated the link. When his voice came, it was lethal. Uncompromising.
“We need to meet. Now.”
The moment the transmission locked in, he exhaled, his grip tightening around the device. Hang on, Eris. His fingers curled tighter. I’m bringing you home.
Miles away, beneath stone and secrecy, war stirred.
The underground war room pulsed with tension.
Shadows crawled across the stone walls, cast by low-hanging lanterns.
Kareon and his pack stood around the battle map, its surface carved with years of conflict.
Crimson markers littered the table: a brutal ledger of Obsidian raids, every one a wound.
But today, the enemy had made a mistake.
Kareon traced a path with a calloused finger. “They’re reinforcing the eastern sector, likely sweeping the safe routes. If we—” He stopped. Pressure slid down his spine, subtle and wrong. The air shifted, tinged with a scent that didn’t belong.
His pulse kicked. A sharp buzz jolted against his wrist—the comm, Lycan-forged, encrypted, invisible to vampires. Kareon pressed two fingers to the band. “Farrick?”
The line crackled. Farrick’s voice came through tight, edged with panic. “Kareon, it’s about Eris.” The world stilled. Cold fire spread through his chest. “The Obsidian Guard took her.”
The weight of it struck hard, sharp as a rib-crack. He forced a breath through clenched teeth, wrestling the fury down.
“They stormed the Summit Hall,” Farrick continued. “Public. In front of everyone. Conspiracy charges.”
Claws pressed into Kareon’s palms.
Eris. In their hands.
CRACK.
The table beneath his hand splintered. Varis and Taric shared a glance.
“K?” Varis asked, his voice wary.
Kareon’s golden eyes lifted. “They took her.”
A beat passed, and then the rage came. It rolled through the room, primal and sharp.
Taric’s fists clenched.
“Are you sure?” Varis asked.
“Farrick saw it.”
“Then it’s a damn declaration,” Taric growled.
The Obsidian Guard hunted Lycans, crushed dissent—but a Dragov? This was war. Kareon’s jaw locked, but his mind moved faster than his fury. He already knew where they’d taken her: the Obsidian Citadel, Avaristo’s seat of power.
Kareon exhaled, controlled. Rushing in would be suicide, but he’d broken fortresses before. His claws retracted. Avaristo thought he had the upper hand. He was wrong.
“Farrick. Updates every minute.” He barked the command.
“Understood.”
The line cut. Kareon turned. Taric was already poised. Varis was slower.
“Get the pack ready,” Kareon ordered. “If she’s not back by sunset, we strike.”
Taric nodded, already halfway to action. Varis didn’t move.
“You’re talking about an open assault,” he said. “We’ve fought Avaristo before. And lost.”
Kareon’s gaze hardened. “What’s your alternative?”
“Think before you throw lives away. Would Eris want that?”
Kareon didn’t flinch. “She’s one of us.”
“She’s also a Dragov. Her family’s already in motion. They have reach we don’t. If we wait—”
“We retrieve a corpse.” Kareon cut him off, burning. “The Dragovs talk but never act. They’ve watched Avaristo grow stronger and done nothing. Too afraid of losing their thrones.” His jaw flexed. “If they have to choose between her and their crown, you know the answer.”
The silence was heavy.
Taric’s jaw was set. Varis inhaled, tense.
Kareon ran a hand down his face. Varis wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t right either.
“Track the Dragovs,” Kareon said. “If they stall, we move first.”
Varis studied him, then nodded.
Kareon stepped forward, shoulders squared. “No blind charges. We move like ghosts. If they fail, we infiltrate the Citadel and take her before they know we’re in.”
Varis exhaled. “You’ve already planned it.”
“Of course I have.”
Varis nodded, this time with conviction. This wasn’t recklessness. It was restraint with teeth.
Taric pressed a fist to his chest. “We stand with you, K. Always.”
Kareon steadied himself. Then, barely a whisper, meant only for himself:
“Hold on, Eris.” He held the breath, tension coiling in his spine. Fury surged, sharpened into purpose. “I’ll make them regret touching you.”