Rhydian didn't sleep that night.
The wind had changed.
And so had her scent.
He could smell it—Kael.
Clinging faintly to the walls of her chamber.
It wasn't the scent of mating. Not yet. But it was intimacy. Proximity. Skin that had been too close for too long.
His wolf bristled beneath his skin.
He stood on the western tower balcony, moonlight slicing across his bare chest. Eyes sharp. Breathing slow.
She had allowed Kael in.
She hadn't stopped it.
Then again… she hadn't chosen either of them.
Still, it burned.
He had offered her his mother's memory. His pain. His pride.
And Kael had offered her a kiss in the dark.
Rhydian left the balcony in silence.
He didn't knock.
He didn't wait.
---
Seraphina was still awake, seated by the hearth in a sheer nightgown of moon-white silk, hair tumbling freely down her back.
She didn't look surprised when the door opened and Rhydian stepped inside.
But she didn't rise.
She let him come to her.
And when he stopped just short of the firelight, his expression was unreadable—but his shoulders were tense, and his eyes… they were dark with storm.
"You let him touch you."
She raised a brow. "I let him speak."
"He didn't come to speak."
She smiled faintly. "And yet you're here now, speaking."
He took a step forward, jaw tightening.
"You want us to fight, don't you?" he said. "You want blood between us. You want fire."
"I want truth," she said calmly. "I want to see what the crownless version of you looks like. What burns underneath the Alpha."
"You want me to burn?"
Her voice dropped. "I want to see who survives the fire."
He was in front of her now, towering over her—but she didn't flinch.
His hand came down beside her chair, gripping the wood.
His other hovered over her shoulder, not quite touching her skin.
"You're not afraid of me," he said.
"No," she replied, tilting her face up. "But you're afraid of me."
He didn't deny it.
Because he was.
Not of her power. Not of her blood.
But of what she was doing to him.
To his control.
To his instincts.
To his loyalty.
His voice dropped lower.
"Tell me what he gave you that I haven't."
She studied him for a long moment.
Then she stood slowly, brushing past him. She stopped at his side—close enough for her breath to tickle his ear.
And whispered, "He didn't give. He offered."
Then she walked away.
Leaving Rhydian there—alone.
His fingers clenched.
Not because she had denied him.
But because he wanted to beg.
And Rhydian Stormveil had never begged for anything in his life.
Until now.
---
The Moon Temple was nearly silent at night.
Built on a cliffside, its marble arches faced the vast valley below. Wind brushed across the mountain edge, soft as breath, carrying the songs of ancient wolves long passed.
Seraphina stood alone at the altar, fingertips resting on the bowl of eternal flame. The silver fire shimmered under her touch but didn't burn. It never did.
Not for her.
She had summoned no one.
And yet—
He came anyway.
His presence didn't roar.
It settled.
Quiet as moonlight. Steady as gravity.
Theron.
She didn't turn when she heard his boots on the sacred floor.
He didn't speak right away. He knew better than to break the silence of this place with anything less than truth.
Only when he stopped three feet behind her did he say, softly, "Do you feel guilt?"
She finally turned.
Her white cloak shimmered against the firelight. Her hair was unbound tonight, loose and wild, like her bloodline.
Her lips curved faintly.
"For what?"
He stepped closer—still not touching. "For driving them to madness."
"No," she said. "They came to me already wounded. I only pulled the thread."
"And if they unravel?"
"They were never kings to begin with."
Theron studied her.
She expected questions about power. About her choice. About who she would take to her bed.
But he asked—
"What do you want?"
And that stopped her.
Not what the goddess demands.
Not what the kingdoms need.
Not what her bloodline expects.
But what she, Seraphina, wanted.
For a moment, the divine mask slipped. Just a little.
"I want to choose without being chosen for," she said. "I want to feel power in desire—not lose it."
He nodded.
"Then why test us with games?" he asked. "Why not simply take?"
"Because I already rule," she said quietly. "Now I want someone who survives me."
That silence again.
It didn't frighten him. He didn't shift. Didn't step forward or back.
He just stood, his presence like shadow and stone.
"Then don't mistake silence for weakness," he murmured.
And when he turned to leave—
Seraphina said one word.
"Stay."
He froze.
She stepped to him—slowly, barefoot on temple stone—and looked up.
Not as a queen.
Not as a deity.
But as a woman.
One with hunger and secrets and a heart that dared to want something softer.
"I didn't summon you," she said.
"I know."
"You came anyway."
"I always will."
She exhaled, eyes flickering down.
"Then stay a while. As you are."
He nodded.
No promises.
No touch.
No kiss.
But in that silence between them, something deeper passed than any caress.
And Seraphina?
She felt it.
Not fire.
But peace.
And suddenly, she feared that might be more dangerous.
---
The wind had stilled. Even the wolves howling in the distant forest had quieted, as if nature itself was holding its breath.
Seraphina remained at the Moon Temple long after Theron had left.
He hadn't touched her. Not even once.
And yet… she could still feel him. Like an imprint on the soul.
Quiet power. Unspoken promises.
Eventually, sleep called her—not the kind mortals knew, but the kind the divine surrendered to only under full moons.
A sacred sleep.
A dreamwalk.
She lay on the stone floor, cloak wrapped around her, and let the silver flame kiss her bare feet before the dream took her.
---
She was standing in a field of white ash.
The stars above her pulsed like open eyes, watching.
A child cried in the distance—soft and wolf-like.
And before her stood three shadows.
Kael.
Rhydian.
Theron.
But they were not as they were.
Kael's crown was shattered in his hand. Blood stained his bare chest. His golden eyes burned—not with rage, but with despair. Behind him, cities burned.
Rhydian stood still as stone. His blade pierced his own chest, driven in by his own hand. But he smiled at her like a man who would die for her again.
Theron… he knelt.
Not in defeat, but in offering. His hands lifted not a sword—but a child. The baby was glowing with divine light, silver eyes blinking in the night.
Her child.
Her heir.
A voice echoed from the heavens.
"You must choose. One shall father the bloodline. One shall protect the throne. One shall fall for you."
Seraphina turned in the vision, hands trembling.
Kael stepped forward, blood still dripping from his palm.
"Let it be me," he whispered. "I would burn for you."
Rhydian's voice followed, hoarse but true.
"I would die for you."
And Theron, lifting the child higher—
"I would build for you."
The stars above crackled.
The flame at her feet burned silver-blue.
And then—
The ground shattered.
She fell—
---
Seraphina woke with a gasp, bolting upright on the temple floor, her skin coated in a light sheen of sweat.
The eternal flame still flickered beside her, but it had changed.
Its color… silver with a hint of crimson.
Blood.
She touched her stomach, breath catching.
No marks. No pain.
But something had shifted.
Something divine.
The child is coming.
Not now.
Not yet.
But soon.
And when that moment arrived…
Only one king would claim what lived in her womb.
And the others?
Would be left with nothing but ashes.