Chapter 50: The Dark Knights
Ashrav reminded himself of the task ahead. The Ember Council was moving into place—Lady Serapha, Seer Malrik, Eldric Veynor, and Darius. Each one formidable. Each one relentless. Their purpose was the same: Amber must fall. The forbidden Bloodline should vanish.
But not by their hands.
They had chosen him, the Shadowblade, to carry out their will. To bear the stain of her blood. To be the scapegoat.
And the target?
Amber.
The Northern Luna who had been born in the South.
That was the plan.
The first plan.
Yet, as he lingered in the shadows, watching her, something within him shifted. The thought of killing her lodged in his chest like a blade he could not pull free. Her laughter, her presence, the light that clung to her—it was unbearable to imagine destroying it.
His jaw tightened. His whisper was raw, almost reverent. "Damn it... She's my calling."
Amber becomes his imprint.
This was no ordinary bond. It was rare—something only a hybrid Luna like Amber could bear. Her blood, a mix of her mother's hybrid blood and Southern Alpha lineage, carried the mark of destiny. Her soul was capable of forming more than one deep connection, making her unique... powerful... and yes, dangerous. Yet, in Ashrav, she had found her first true anchor—the bond that could calm her, guide her, and protect her in ways no one else could. This time, he was here to protect her.
Not to kill. Never to kill.
He held her closer, steady and unyielding. Amber could not yet fully understand it, but their bond stirred—a subtle resonance of fate, of imprint, of something that went beyond choice. He was her anchor. And she, in ways she couldn't explain, belonged to him.
____
Amber, unaware of the storm pressing in, stepped onto the terrace. The Southern night wrapped around her, carrying the faint scent of pine, earth, and distant campfires. She inhaled deeply, stretching her arms as though to release the weight she carried. She was about to close the window but she felt the wind shifted.
There's someone.
And that moment.
Ashrav moved. In one fluid motion, he vaulted onto the terrace, landing as silently as the shadow he was named for.
He was Shadowblade—trained to kill, immune to the powers of wolves or witches alike. Untouchable. Every Alpha, every Luna who had tried to bend him had failed. His gift was also his curse: absolute immunity. The perfect predator.
But tonight, that gift meant nothing. Tonight, Amber was no longer a prey. Tonight, she was... untouchable for an entirely different reason. In his eyes, she was no longer merely a mission—she was his sanctuary, the center of a world he had never known.
Ashrav moved forward with unnerving speed, a shadow among shadows—too fast for the eye to track, too precise for instinct to counter. In a heartbeat, his hand shot up, clamping over Amber's mouth before a single cry could escape. The sudden pressure pressed her lips against his palm, stifling the breath that had caught in her throat.
Her eyes widened in shock, pupils dilating as panic surged through her veins. She tried to jerk back, to push away, but his other arm swept around her waist, pulling her close with unyielding strength. Her small frame seemed almost weightless in his grasp, yet utterly trapped, pressed flush against him as if she had been forged to fit exactly in the steel of his hold.
Amber's heart hammered violently, each beat echoing in her ears like a warning drum. The forest around them blurred, the wind whipping her hair against her face, but she could feel only him—every taut muscle, every controlled motion, every breath he drew in the dark. She was caught, suspended between fear and disbelief, in the arms of the man who had been sent to kill her—but now, impossibly, was her shield.
Ashrav's grip did not waver. Not a twitch, not a falter. His dark eyes held hers, unblinking, commanding, and merciless in their focus. Every instinct within him screamed control, dominance, and protection at once. There was no room for resistance; Amber was his, if only for these fleeting, stolen moments, and he would not let her go.
Amber's body went rigid, every muscle locked in instinctive resistance. Panic flared in her eyes, sharp and bright, a storm barely contained behind the veneer of control. Her mind raced, trying to process the impossible—the man who had once been her enemy now holding her as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.
"Don't scream," Ashrav hissed, his breath warm against her ear, low and urgent. The rasp of his words seemed to vibrate through her chest. "You must leave this place. Now."
Her eyes widened, disbelief and fear flashing across her face. Instinct took over, and she raised her hands, calling forth her Luna power. The air thickened around them, energy twisting and coiling toward him—ready to bend him to her will, as she had done countless times in past battles.
But when her power hit him, it shattered, scattering into nothingness—like smoke dissolving in the night.
His gaze locked onto hers—hard, unyielding, black as midnight.
"Your power has no effect on me," he said coldly. "Stop fighting. It's useless."
Ashrav was more than a warrior; he was an unyielding force of nature. The Shadowblade—executioner of legends—untouchable by any magic, any power, any will but his own. No spell could bend him, no energy could sway him, no force could break him. It was this very invincibility, this absolute control over himself, that ensured Amber would not fall—not to the Ember Council, not to anyone.
Amber gasped, breath stuttering. "What... who are you—"
"I'm the reason you're still breathing," Ashrav growled, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through her. "Stay quiet if you want to live."
Before she could resist, he swept her up in his arms, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. The shadows themselves seemed to coil around them, swallowing them whole. The terrace disappeared behind them as he carried her into the embrace of the forest.
Ashrav ran, his steps silent across the undergrowth. Every stride carried him further from the terrace, further from the mission, further from the fate the Ember Council had chained to him. And closer to the truth that had struck him like lightning—he could not harm her. He would protect her. Even if it meant defying the very council that owned him.
The forest closed in around them, shadows twisting to hide their escape. But every rustle of leaves, every crunch of distant footsteps reminded Ashrav their time was slipping away.
He held her tighter, her heartbeat thundering against his chest. "No one will touch you," he muttered, almost to himself. "Not the Ember Council. Not anyone."
Amber stared up at him, eyes wide with terror and confusion. He was her enemy—her would-be executioner—and yet in that moment, she saw something else. A shield. A knights. It's a contradiction. The danger and the salvation tangled into one.
From the streets below, footsteps echoed against cobblestones—measured, deliberate. Ashrav froze, senses sharpened, his entire body coiled like a drawn bow. He knew that the Ember Council had arrived. Their presence pressed against the night like a storm breaking.
For a heartbeat, the world held still—balanced between fear and hope, life and death.
Ashrav's decision was final. Not as Shadowblade. Not as the Council's weapon. But as something more.
The one who would guard her, who would protect her, no matter the cost.
He melted deeper into the darkness, vanishing with Amber in his arms, leaving behind the warm glow of Luna Café and the fading laughter of children.
Inside the café, laughter still drifted, councilors oblivious to the storm gathering just beyond their sight.
The silver light of the moon washed over the empty streets. At the edge of its glow, four silhouettes emerged from the shadows—Lady Serapha, Sheer Malrik, Eldric, and Darius. Their eyes glinted with cold intent, sharp and merciless, as they turned toward the café.
And tonight.
The hunt had begun.