Chapter 206: The Invitation

Seraphine's POV

I stared at the seal, running my thumb over the raised wax. Something about it made my skin prickle with unease.

"Open it," Kaelen said quietly.

The seal broke with a soft crack. Inside was a single card—deep navy blue edged in gold leaf. The text was written in an elaborate script, each letter flowing into the next with almost hypnotic precision.

Alpha Theron of Stormcrest

requests the honor of your presence

at his wedding to

Freya Lockwood

I read it twice. Then a third time, the words refusing to make sense.

"Theron?" I looked up at Kaelen, frowning. "That Alpha who never comes to the council meetings? The one who's basically a ghost?"

Kaelen nodded slowly, watching my face with an intensity that made my stomach twist.

"The same. He's kept to himself for years, barely communicates with the other packs." He paused. "And now, out of nowhere, he announces he's getting married."

"Why are you showing me this?"

Kaelen reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a photograph.

"Because of this."

The photo showed a couple standing in front of a forest thick with mist. The woman wore a silver-white dress, her blonde hair styled in an elaborate updo with flowers woven through the golden strands. She was smiling—a brilliant, dazzling smile that showed teeth and crinkled her eyes at the corners.

She looked happy. Radiant, even.

Those green eyes stared directly at the camera with an intensity that seemed to look right through the lens. Empty despite the smile. Hollow despite the joy written across every other feature of her heart-shaped face.

The man standing behind her had one hand on her shoulder, possessive and gentle at the same time. He was tall, built like someone who'd spent his life fighting, with dark hair that fell to his shoulders.

I stared at the photo until the figures started to blur, my vision swimming as my hands shook harder.

"Sera?" Kaelen's voice came from very far away. "Breathe—"

"This is—" My voice came out barely a whisper.

Because I knew that face.

Knew it better than my own, even with the different hairstyle and expensive dress. Knew those green eyes, that heart-shaped face, the exact shade of gold in that blonde hair. Knew it from a thousand shared memories, from growing up side by side, from the moment she was born and I first held her tiny hand in mine.

"Freya was Theron's wife's name. His dead wife."

My blood went cold.

The pieces clicked together with sickening clarity. Cordelia's words in the herb garden came rushing back: His wife and three children were killed in an ambush. Ten years ago.

I looked back at the invitation, at the name written in elegant script.

"So he—" I couldn't finish the sentence. My throat had closed up.

"Yes," Kaelen said quietly. "He's giving your sister his dead wife's name."

I nodded slowly, unable to look away from those hollow green eyes in the photograph.

"Her real name isn't Freya," I said, voice steadier now even as my hands continued to tremble. "It's Lyralei. She's my sister."

The words hung in the air between us like smoke.

Kaelen went very still.

"Your sister. The one who went missing when you fled Old John's village."

"Yes." I traced the edge of the photo with one shaking finger. "But what's she doing in Stormcrest? Why is she using a dead woman's name?"

My hands clenched around the photo hard enough that the edges crumpled.

"He's keeping her prisoner," I said, and the words came out sharp as broken glass. "He found her somewhere—maybe during the attack, maybe after—and he's been holding her captive. Gave her his dead wife's name. Made her into a replacement for what he lost."

Kaelen didn't argue.

"That's what I thought too when I saw this."

I stood abruptly, needing to move.

"Did he brainwash her? Is she under some kind of compulsion?" The words came out harsh. "Because that smile—that's not real. Look at her eyes. She's smiling but there's nothing behind it."

"I don't know what he's done to her or how long she's been there."

I looked at the photo again, really looked this time.

Lyralei stood in that silver dress with flowers woven through her blonde hair and that brilliant, empty smile. She looked beautiful. Looked happy.

But I knew my sister. Knew the way she used to laugh with her whole body. Knew how those green eyes would light up with mischief when she was about to do something reckless. Knew every expression that would cross that heart-shaped face.

And none of that was present in this photograph.

This wasn't Lyralei. Not really.

This was Freya. A construction built from my sister's body and dressed up in someone else's life.

"The wedding," I said, turning back to Kaelen. "When is it?"

"Two weeks. Ceremony starts at sunset." He watched me carefully. "What are you thinking?"

I set the photo down with deliberate precision, my hands finally steady.

"We're going to that wedding." The words came out calm, measured. "I need to see her in person, talk to her, figure out exactly what's happening."

"And if she doesn't remember you?"

"Then I'll make her remember." I met his gaze. "She's my sister. I've been searching for her for months. I'm not going to ignore this."

He studied me for a long moment.

"This could be dangerous. Theron's territory is isolated. Heavily guarded. If he is keeping her prisoner and we show up asking questions—"

"I don't care." The words came out fierce. "I don't care if it's dangerous. That's my sister in that photo. And I'm not leaving her there to be some dead woman's replacement."

Kaelen's mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"I know. That's why I'm coming with you." He caught my hand. "Whatever we find in Stormcrest—we face it together."

I squeezed his hand.

"Together," I echoed.

But even as I said it, my eyes drifted back to the photograph.

To Lyralei's—Freya's—brilliant smile and hollow green eyes.

Because there was something else in that photo I hadn't wanted to acknowledge.

The way Theron's hand rested on her shoulder—possessive, yes, but also gentle. The angle of her body as she stood in front of him, leaning back slightly as if seeking his presence. The flowers woven through her golden hair that must have taken hours to arrange.

Details that didn't match the narrative of a prisoner and captor.

What if she wants to be there? The thought made my stomach turn. What if whatever he's done to her, she believes she's happy?

I pushed the thoughts away and focused on the facts.

Lyralei was alive. She was in Stormcrest. And in two weeks, I would see her again.

"We'll need to prepare," Kaelen said. "Stormcrest is three days' travel north."

I nodded.

"You said other Alphas received invitations too?"

"Yes. Zephyr and Kieran for certain."

"Then we go as wedding guests. Nothing suspicious about that."

"And once we're there?"

"We find Lyralei. Talk to her. Figure out what the hell is going on." My jaw set. "And then we decide what to do next."

I picked up the photograph one more time, studying my sister's face in the firelight. The way the flames caught the gold in her hair, made those empty green eyes seem almost alive.

I'm coming for you, I promised silently. Whatever's happened, whatever you've become—I'm coming to find the truth. And I'm not leaving without you.