SERA'S POV
The silver dagger burns against my palms like ice on fire.
I don't flinch. Five years of training taught me to swallow pain the way other people swallow air—natural, necessary, unnoticed. Around me, the Hall of Blades watches with cold stone eyes as I kneel before High Assassin Morgana Vale, the woman who saved me from the ashes of my murdered village and shaped me into something sharper than any weapon hanging on these walls.
"You are ready, my blade," Morgana says, her voice warm honey over steel. Her fingers trace the crescent moon birthmark on my shoulder—the mark I've had since birth, the one that proves I'm special, chosen, meant for this. "Alpha Kael Nightfang will destroy everything if he claims his fated mate. The prophecy is clear. Thousands will die when the Blood Moon rises in thirty days."
Thirty days. That's all the time between now and the end of the world.
"I won't fail you," I promise, because failure isn't something the Crimson Order tolerates. The last assassin who failed a mission came back in pieces.
Morgana's smile doesn't reach her eyes. It never does. "I know you won't. You're my greatest creation."
Creation. Not daughter. Not student. The word sits wrong in my chest, but I shove it down where all uncomfortable feelings go to die.
"Kael Nightfang has ruled the Shadow Territories for three hundred years," Morgana continues, circling me like a wolf sizing up prey. "He's killed more wolves than any Alpha in history. He's ruthless, cold, and his pack fears him more than they love him. But he has one weakness."
I look up. "What weakness?"
"He believes he's clever." Morgana's laugh is sharp glass. "He thinks he's been preparing for this moment his whole life. But he's never faced someone like you, Sera. You'll infiltrate his pack as a lone wolf seeking sanctuary. He grants these requests regularly—it makes him look merciful. Once you're inside, earn his trust. Learn his patterns. Then, when he's vulnerable..." She presses the dagger into my hand harder. "Strike true."
The blade hums under my skin, hungry. It's been dipped in wolfsbane and blessed with dark magic—the only thing that can kill an Alpha-born wolf. I've trained with this exact weight, this precise balance, for months.
"What about his mate?" I ask. "If the prophecy says he'll destroy everything when he claims her—"
"His mate hasn't been born yet." Morgana cuts me off, her tone final. "The stars confirmed it. You have time before fate intervenes. That's why you must kill him now, before the universe gives him the one thing that could make him unstoppable."
Something cold slithers down my spine. A question I shouldn't ask bubbles up anyway. "But if his mate isn't born, how can the prophecy—"
"Do you doubt the Oracle?" Morgana's voice drops to ice.
I swallow the rest of my question. Nobody doubts the Oracle of First Blood. Her prophecies have guided the Crimson Order for a thousand years. Morgana raised me on stories of the Oracle's wisdom, her perfect visions, her unwavering truth.
"No, High Assassin. I don't doubt."
Morgana's hand cups my cheek, almost tender. Almost. "Good girl. I saved you from the fire that killed your parents because I saw your potential. Don't make me regret it."
The memory flashes—flames, screaming, my mother's voice singing a lullaby that got swallowed by smoke. I was too young to remember details, but I remember feeling safe before the world turned to ash. Morgana found me in the ruins, the only survivor. She gave me purpose when I had nothing.
I owe her everything.
"I'll make you proud," I whisper.
"I know." Morgana releases me, stepping back. "Your sister Lyra asked about you this morning. She wanted to say goodbye."
My heart clenches. Lyra—my baby sister, barely sixteen, still in training. The Order took her in two years after me. She's the only family I have left.
"Can I see her before I go?"
"No." The word is final. "Attachments make you weak. You'll see her when you return victorious." Morgana's smile sharpens. "Unless you fail. Then she'll be the one I send next."
The air leaves my lungs.
"You wouldn't—"
"The mission is bigger than one girl, Sera. Bigger than both of you." Morgana turns away, her cloak sweeping across the stone floor. "Thirty days. Kill Kael Nightfang before the Blood Moon, or your sister pays the price of your failure. Those are your orders."
She doesn't wait for my response. She never does.
I'm left kneeling in the Hall of Blades, alone except for ghosts and steel. The dagger feels heavier now. Not because of its weight, but because of what it means.
Kill the monster. Save thousands. Protect Lyra.
Simple. Clean. The kind of math that makes sense.
So why does my birthmark burn like it's trying to warn me of something?
I leave at dawn with nothing but weapons, fake identification papers, and a cover story I've rehearsed a thousand times. The Obsidian Mountains rise in the distance like black teeth against a bleeding sky. Nightfang territory. Enemy ground.
The forest swallows me whole. Trees twist overhead, blocking out the sun. Everything here feels alive in a way that makes my wolf instincts—the ones I've kept buried my whole life—stir uncomfortably.
I walk for hours until I reach the border. Two massive wolves materialize from the shadows, their eyes glowing amber in the dim light. Guards.
"State your business," the larger one growls, his voice more animal than human.
I drop to one knee, playing the part of a desperate, broken wolf. "I'm seeking sanctuary. I have nowhere else to go."
The guards exchange looks. One tilts his head like he's listening to something I can't hear.
"The Alpha will see you," he finally says. "Follow."
My heart hammers as they lead me deeper into Nightfang territory. Every step takes me closer to my target. Closer to completing my mission.
Closer to the monster I was born to kill.
The pack mansion rises from the forest like a fortress. Stone and steel and power. Guards everywhere. This is the stronghold of the most dangerous Alpha in the Shadow Territories.
And I'm walking straight into his den.
The guards stop at massive wooden doors. One knocks twice.
"Enter," a voice calls from inside. Deep. Commanding. The kind of voice that expects obedience.
The doors swing open.
I step inside and freeze.
Because the monster sitting behind the desk isn't what I expected.
He's young—or appears young, though I know he's centuries old. Dark hair, sharp features, and eyes like molten gold that pin me in place the second they land on me. He's beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—deadly, perfect, designed to cut.
"Name?" he asks, standing. Power rolls off him in waves that make my knees want to buckle.
"Sera," I manage.
He moves around the desk, closing the distance between us. Every instinct screams at me to run, but I hold my ground.
"Welcome to Nightfang Pack, Sera." He extends his hand for the formal greeting ritual. His eyes never leave mine. "I'm Alpha Kael Nightfang."
I know I have to take his hand. Refusing would blow my cover.
I reach out.
Our fingers touch.
And my entire world explodes.