The council hall was carved deep into the cliffs—old stone, flickering torches, silence so thick it felt like judgment itself.
Pond stood in the center of a wide circular chamber, facing the seated elders. A long table separated him from them like a wall. His dark coat was open at the collar, his expression unreadable. Controlled. Cold.
But inside?
He was already restless. Already missing the feeling of Phuwin's hand in his.
The silver-eyed woman—the same elder who had trained him—spoke first.
"The Mirror Court grows bolder. We've intercepted three coded messages and two raids along the border. They are not searching for power anymore. They are searching for *you*."
Pond gave a single nod. "Let them come."
A younger councilman leaned forward. "You say that like you're prepared. But we have yet to see any real strategy."
"Because *I* am the strategy," Pond said flatly. "They want me. They don't get me unless I want them to."
The elder woman narrowed her eyes. "You are powerful. But even Enigmas bleed. Even you can fall."
Pond's jaw tightened. "Then I'll take as many of them with me as I can."
Before anyone could respond, the chamber door creaked open.
A soldier—one of Pond's personal guards—burst in, breathless.
"My lord—there's been a call from the Naravit estate. From Gun. Your mate—Phuwin—is sick. It's urgent."
For a split second, Pond froze.
Then the Enigma inside him *howled*.
He was already moving. Didn't wait. Didn't ask. He was halfway to the door when a voice from the council chamber stopped him.
"Pond Naravit," one of the elders snapped. "We are in the middle of war preparation. Your absence will delay every clan's movement. Where does your loyalty lie?"
Pond turned.
His eyes were darker than usual. Like ink spilled into stars.
And his voice?
**Cold. Sharp. Certain.**
"My loyalty," he said, "lies with Phuwin."
Stunned silence.
"I will fight your war. I will burn their army if you ask it. But if he is in pain—if even a breath leaves his lungs wrong—I *leave*. No council, no prophecy, no bloodline will ever come before him."
"You would risk the clans for one Omega?" another councilwoman said, incredulous.
Pond tilted his head, eyes gleaming with that dangerous edge.
"No," he said. "I would *destroy* the clans for one Omega. You forget—I am not just your weapon. I am your reckoning."
And he walked out.
The moment Pond arrived, the scent *hit* him.
Thick. Sweet. Addictive.
Phuwin's heat had bloomed like wildfire—his Omega pheromones coating the walls of the east wing, curling through the halls like incense. Every unmated alpha on the grounds had already been cleared from the area. Even Off kept his distance.
Gun met Pond at the stairs, voice strained. "He's calling for you. No one can go near him. He's thrashing. He won't let anyone touch him. Keeps saying—"
"I know," Pond said, eyes already glowing faintly.
He didn't wait for permission.
He slammed the bedroom door open.
The air inside was *sweltering*. Saturated. *Drenched* in Phuwin's scent.
And there he was.
On the bed. Sheets tangled, sweat on his skin, eyes hazy and red-rimmed.
"Pond…" Phuwin whimpered, arching, panting. "I—I need—where were you—?"
The bond *pulled*—tight, vicious. Pond's instincts surged.
He crossed the room in seconds, stripping off his coat as he went.
"I'm here," he growled. "I should've never left."
Phuwin reached for him like a drowning man. "I didn't mean to—wasn't supposed to happen yet—I just—my body *hurts* without you."
"You called me," Pond said, voice like thunder, crawling into bed and pulling Phuwin against him. "And I'll *always* come."
Their lips met in a desperate kiss—feverish, claiming.
Pond didn't touch him like something delicate. He touched him like something *his*.
"Tell me what you want," Pond demanded, already breathless.
"You," Phuwin whispered. "Only you. My Enigma."
Pond's hands trembled. "You're mine," he murmured. "Mine to calm. Mine to wreck. And I won't let anyone—*anyone*—keep me from you again."
He pressed their foreheads together as Phuwin's scent spiraled higher, surrounding him like a fog. "I don't care if the world is ending. Let it end. I'll die here, in your arms, and I'll still call that victory."
Back at the council
The silver-eyed elder stared at the empty seat where Pond had stood.
One of the others muttered, "He's unstable. A risk."
"No," the elder said softly.
"He's loyal," she corrected. "Just not to us. And that is what makes him *dangerous*."
The room was suffused in heat, thick with pheromones that clung to every surface like smoke. The walls, the sheets, even the windows *sweated* with the force of it.
Phuwin writhed in Pond's arms, overwhelmed, his voice breaking with need. "It hurts—I can't—please—"
"I've got you," Pond murmured, every word trembling with restraint. "Just hold on a little longer. Let me take care of you."
Phuwin turned toward him, flushed and desperate. "No more holding back. I want your mark. I want to be *yours*."
Something inside Pond snapped.
Not violently. Not with rage.
But with devotion so intense it cracked his soul open.
His lips crushed against Phuwin's, hands threading into sweat-damp hair, bodies pressed together until there was no space between them—no breath, no doubt, only the pulse of instinct and fate.
"Are you sure?" Pond growled into his mouth. "Because once I take you, there's no turning back. You'll be mine forever."
"I already am," Phuwin whispered. "Now *prove it.*"
And Pond did.
Their mating was *feral*, yet reverent—intimate, tangled in whispered I love you's and desperate moans.
Phuwin clawed at Pond's back, gasping as their bodies moved in rhythm, the bond pulling tighter and tighter until—
—Pond sank his teeth gently into the curve of Phuwin's neck. Flooding his pheromones into phuwin
Phuwin *screamed*, body arching in pure ecstasy as the claim seared through him like fire.
Power *exploded* between them. Raw, ancient, magic-drenched. The Enigma fully awakened. Phuwin fully *bound*.
Their scents merged into something no other alpha could survive near.
Outside the door, Off and Gun both stumbled back from the wave of oppressive power that flooded the east wing like a tidal wave.
Three Days of Isolation
No one could enter.
Pond's pheromones were lethal now—undiluted, possessive, territorial. Anyone who got within ten feet of the door without permission collapsed under the pressure.
So, the others adapted.
Joong, Dunk, Gemini, Santa, and the rest took turns leaving food and water outside the door.
They never knocked. Never spoke.
They just waited for the air to clear enough to slide a tray in—and walked away before Pond's aura rolled out like smoke and *choked* them with unspoken warning:
He is mine. You don't come in.
Inside, Pond never left Phuwin's side.
They didn't just mate—they curled around each other like puzzle pieces, slept in sync, bathed in soft candlelight, whispered dreams and memories between touches and kisses.
Pond fed him by hand. Washed him with trembling reverence. Marked him again and again, like he was making sure the bond wouldn't fade.
And every time Phuwin touched him, Pond shivered.
"You're the only thing that's ever made me feel *human,*" he whispered.
Phuwin kissed his shoulder. "You were never a monster. They just didn't understand what you needed."
On the third night, just after moonrise, while Pond lay with Phuwin curled into his chest, his breathing finally calm—there was a sound.
A *click*.
Not the door.
The *window*.
Pond's eyes snapped open.
His instincts screamed.
Before he even moved, he **knew** someone had slipped into the house. Slipped *into his scent field*, cloaked with magic.
The Mirror Court.
Phuwin stirred. "Pond…?"
"Stay here," Pond whispered, voice already shifting—lower, rougher, lethal.
He rose like a shadow.
Silent.
Feral.
He moved toward the window, slow and precise—then *ripped it open*.
A figure crouched on the outer ledge, masked in silver, holding a black blade.
"Give us the Omega," the intruder hissed.
Pond's eyes glowed in the dark.
"I *just* marked him," he said softly. "And you're trying to take him *now*?"
He grabbed the assassin by the throat and yanked him inside with inhuman strength.
Phuwin gasped, pulling the sheet around himself as the air snapped with energy.
The intruder didn't last ten seconds.
Pond didn't kill him immediately—he *wanted* him to see what he was.
The Enigma.
Possessive. Wild. In love.
By the time Off and Joong rushed into the hall, the would-be assassin had already passed out from the sheer weight of Pond's rage pressing down on him.
Gun stared at the cracked walls, at the black marks seared into the floorboards.
And then at Pond, who stood over the body, chest heaving, protective to the point of madness.
"He touched the bond," Pond growled. "He *breathed* near him. If you hadn't found him first, I'd have torn through the council *next*."
Off nodded grimly. "They're escalating. We need to prepare the estate. Lock it down. War is here."
Phuwin was sitting up now, covered in bruised kisses and claiming marks. Still flushed. Still trembling. But his eyes were calm.
"I'm ready," he said. "Whatever's coming—we face it together."
Pond crossed the room and pulled him close. "You're not a weakness," he said, forehead against his. "You're my reason to *survive.*"
Outside, thunder rolled.
And far away, the Mirror Court marked them both for death.