Chapter 14
The sconces flickered dimly against heavy stone, their glow too weak to cut through the tension thickening the air.
Eris stepped inside, her expression unreadable, every movement measured.
Raphael followed, his posture commanding, owning the space as if it had always belonged to him.
Stephan and Yori entered behind them, silent storms trailing the hurricane.
As soon as they entered, Raphael turned, swift and precise, a blade unsheathed. "Sit."
Eris obeyed without hesitation, lowering herself into the chair, her spine straight and composed, a picture of restraint.
Yori moved toward the window, his presence looming, a quiet tempest brewing behind him. His back was turned, but his posture—tight, fists clenched at his sides—spoke louder than words. Stephan sat beside her, unwilling to let her face this alone.
Raphael’s displeasure was palpable. His silver gaze flicked toward Stephan in warning before he exhaled sharply, fingers drumming against the table. "I am extremely disappointed in you."
The words shattered the silence like a whiplash.
"You have put yourself in grave danger. You have subjected your family to unbearable torment.
" His eyes darkened as his voice dropped, colder.
"But most of all," he continued, each word slow and heavy with absolute condemnation, "you have dealt a direct blow to everything your father and I fought to preserve. "
The chamber hummed with restrained anger, but Eris did not flinch.
Raphael’s hands curled tighter against the table.
"You think you can act without restraint and escape the reckoning?
Your actions demand punishment, and you will face it.
" His voice struck the chamber like a hammer, each syllable ringing with cold, final authority.
"You will learn discipline, whether you accept it or not. "
The room became oppressive, but still Eris did not break. She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting to hear exactly what punishment he had in mind.
Stephan’s jaw tightened. His fingers curled around the chair’s arms, his shoulders drawn so tight they might snap. He had been raised never to openly challenge his father, but if Raphael pushed too far, he knew he would break that rule tonight.
Yori finally spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "That is enough."
Raphael’s gaze cut toward his brother.
"She is my daughter," Yori commanded. "You will mind how you speak to her."
Raphael exhaled sharply, his lips curling into something not quite a smile. "No, Yori. Someone has to take control. You never had the will."
Yori’s presence shifted, a silent storm building in the room. "You overstep," Yori said, his voice colder now.
"No." Raphael’s voice dropped, lethal. "I step in where you falter. Because if someone does not, she will turn our lives’ work into ashes." Raphael turned back to Eris, cold fire burning behind his silver eyes. "As for you, Eris Dragov, your ties to the Lycans end now."
Stephan’s breath hitched, but Eris did not move.
"You will apologize before the Firstbloods’ Council for your disgraceful behavior. And finally," Raphael said, his tone darkening, "whether you like it or not, you will be placed under my direct tutelage, until you learn how to act as a true Dragov ruler."
Yori’s expression hardened. "No," he said, his tone immovable. "Before you decide on any punishment, you will consult me first."
The chair scraped against stone as Stephan shot to his feet, furious. "Father, you have no right."
Tension snapped like a live wire. Yori and Raphael collided, voices clashing, anger thrown like daggers across the room.
Eris moved. A shift so small and calculated that it silenced the chamber. She raised her head slowly, locking her emerald eyes onto Raphael’s. Something shifted, not with force or volume, but with presence. Then she spoke, coldly.
"And what if I refuse?"
A quiet, biting question.
Stephan’s chest tightened. There it was, the shift. The steel beneath her skin. This was not the broken girl dragged home in blood and silence. This was someone else, someone who stood before Raphael Dragov without flinching.
For a fraction of a second, something darker flickered in Raphael’s eyes, something close to fear. It vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, scoffing breath. "Then there would be consequences."
A deliberate pause followed, the words settling over her like a dagger at her throat. Eris let them weigh, then stood. The room dipped into eerie silence.
She took a single step forward, locked eyes with Raphael, and in a voice barely above a whisper said, "Let me guess, Uncle…
First, you would lock me away, isolate me in some wing of the castle to sever those ties by force.
" The room grew colder. Stephan’s stomach twisted.
She was not speculating; she was naming a pattern.
"Then, you would declare me mentally unfit, so every choice I have made could be conveniently dismissed as madness.
And finally," she took another step forward, "when the shame, the pressure became too much… " She inhaled. "You would kill me."
The chamber waited with bated breath. Candle flames wavered, bending toward something unseen. The air thinned, not just cold but crushing, pressing in from all sides. Then the room exhaled.
A dark wind stirred, curling through the chamber like a whispered warning.
The flames dimmed, trembling on their wicks. An ancient presence settled over the room, and it was not friendly.
Eris’s gaze sharpened. She did not need to say more. They all knew exactly what chapter of Dragov history she had just unearthed.
Silence pressed against their ribs, heavier than the air itself.
Yori gripped the windowsill, his knuckles bloodless.
Raphael stood frozen, not in shock, but in recognition.
Stephan knew this presence. He had felt it before, in the library.
A chill scraped down his spine as something old and primal clawed at the edges of his mind.
Then he moved, without hesitation. He crossed the space between them and gripped her shoulders, firmly.
"Eris, look at me." His voice cut through the storm. "I will not let history repeat itself."
For the first time, Eris’s gaze flickered. She blinked, and the wind died. The flames steadied as the chamber exhaled. Whatever had come slipped away.
Silence clung to the room, suffocating.
Yori’s voice wavered. "What was that?"
Raphael’s silver gaze fixed on Eris, unreadable. His fingers twitched at his sides.
"Dark magic," he answered, then crossed the space with measured precision and his hand closed around Eris’s shoulder, a silent claim of control.
"This is even worse than I imagined. How long has this presence been possessing you?"
Eris stiffened. "I am not being possessed." The words came quick, cutting off the accusation before it could take root. "This presence has been whispering to me," she said, drawing a breath, "showing me things. Protecting me." Eris’s eyes locked on Raphael. "And you know who she is."
The chamber went silent. Raphael ripped his hand away from Eris’s shoulder as if burned, his face twisting between rage and fear.
"Do not speak that name," he growled.
Across the room, Yori gripped the windowsill, his knuckles white. His voice came hollow as he whispered a name that felt like a ghost. "Seraphina."
The moment the name left Yori’s lips, Raphael sank into his chair as if struck. His breath came ragged as he raked a hand through his silver-streaked hair. "After all these years…she still haunts us. A curse upon this family."
A silence thick as smoke settled over the chamber. Eris did not move.
Yori crossed the room and placed both hands on her shoulders, firm yet gentle, his eyes searching her face for something only she could answer. His voice was low, laced with quiet urgency. "What does Seraphina want from you?"
Eris’s throat tightened, but she did not waver.
"She showed me the way," Eris said. "She and the spirits have revealed what must be done to end this war, to bring peace to our fractured world. I must finish what Seraphina was never allowed to."
Yori’s hands tensed, his grip tightening in trepidation. His voice came hoarse, barely a whisper. "That is a dangerous path, Eris."
She nodded. "I know."
The spirits had shown her—the visions, the warnings, the blood cost—but she was not afraid. She would not turn away from destiny.
Raphael exhaled sharply and pushed away from the table. A bitter chuckle escaped him, his silver eyes burning with resentment, fury, and something dangerously close to despair.
"Then it’s over," he said. "It’s done. Seraphina’s curse has come full circle, and now, our family will crumble beneath it. The Dragovs. The Firstbloods. Everything."
Eris’s eyes flashed. "You are wrong."
Raphael turned, his gaze ruthless. "Am I?"
Eris straightened. "Seraphina’s message was never about destruction. She sought harmony, balance, peace between factions. She never wanted to destroy our family—she wanted to save it."
Raphael scoffed. "Save it?" His voice turned sharper. "Seraphina was a fool. A visionary blinded by impossible dreams. And for that, she brought nothing but shame upon this house."
Eris’s breath hitched, her eyes darkening. "That is a lie. A twisted truth you have clung to for generations."
Raphael’s expression hardened. "Oh, she did not tell you, did she?
She gave herself to a Lycan. Betrayed her own blood.
She was weak, ruled by foolish emotions, and shattered this house beyond repair.
" He sneered. "She chose a path that led only to suffering—for her, for us all.
And now you dare to follow?" He stepped forward, voice rising.
"You think I will watch you drag my son into this madness?
Watch him suffer like Kriponius did? Then you are sorely—"
"Enough."
Stephan’s fury surged, barely contained.
Raphael froze mid-breath, the words stripped from his mouth.