Chapter 167: The Ancient Scrolls

Riven's POV

The heavy, reinforced door of the Alpha suite clicked into place with a muted, pressurized thud that felt entirely too final.

I didn't take my hand off the brass deadbolt immediately. I stood there, my boots anchored to the thick woolen rug of the entryway, my raw knuckles throbbing.

Amaya stepped past my shoulder into the main living space, her boots clicking softly against the dark hardwood floor. Her posture was completely unbothered, her narrow eyes calmly scanning the high vaulted ceilings and the heavy timber bookshelves.

"You brought her here?" a low, dangerous baritone rumbled from the shadows near the kitchen island.

Zayden stepped into the amber light of the gas lamps, his golden eyes wide, violently bright, and fixed entirely on Amaya. His alpha aura coiled tight, a heavy, suffocating cloud of dominant mass that demanded to know exactly why a high-tier tracking specialist had just walked into our private sanctuary.

"She knows, Zay," I said, my voice rough and exhausted as I finally let go of the door handle.

I walked down the short, shadowed corridor toward my bedroom, pushing the timber door open just an inch.

Kathy was lying in the center of my bed, buried beneath a mountain of heavy wool blankets. She was fast asleep, her face pale, the terrifying, pitch-black veins thankfully absent from her neck.

My alpha energy had forced the shadow back for now, but her physical system was completely drained. I closed the door softly, my chest tightening with a raw, protective ache, and walked back into the living room.

Zayden had moved to the head of the oak dining table, his large hands flat against the wood as he leaned over Amaya. "Talk. You said you could help us. What exactly can you help with?"

Amaya didn't flinch. She reached into her jacket, pulling out a small, leather-bound notebook and a tightly rolled bundle of brittle, yellowed parchment. She slid them into the center of the table, her long fingers carefully unrolling the ancient scrolls.

"I didn't just check the local quad logs," Amaya said, her voice dropping into a cold, analytical rhythm. "I went deep into the unaligned archives—the ones kept in the high tower before the First Treaty was ever signed. That is the only place you'll find the truth about what is inside her."

I sat down opposite her, staring at the jagged, faded Latin script and the dense, geometric symbols drawn in dark, metallic ink. "We know it’s an entity. The grimoire said it targets latent bloodlines."

"It isn't just a standard spiritual parasite, Riven," Amaya corrected, her amber eyes drilling into mine. She tapped a long, jagged illustration of a formless shadow consuming a human outline. "It’s a rogue demon. An ancient, primeval aberration. Look at the scrolls."

Zayden scowled, leaning closer to the parchment. "How do you know that? The academy wiped the records of demonic possession from the library a century ago. How can you be sure this isn't just a rogue wolf spirit trying to force an awakening?"

"Because many of these books talk explicitly about rogue demons," Amaya replied smoothly, her finger tracing a line of text. "Whenever you ask how I know, the answer is in the restricted texts. The scrolls document the exact physical symptoms Kathy is displaying. The freezing body temperature, the metallic hum in the air, the physical manifestation of a secondary double walking the quad in broad daylight. A standard wolf spirit doesn't have the kinetic power to split a physical form. Only a rogue demon from the first era can do that."

The cold reality of her words settled over the room like a burial shroud. I rubbed my tired eyes, the exhaustion settling deep into my bones. "Abby confessed before we brought you here. She said she delivered Kathy to Madame Vespa in the deep drainage tunnels."

Amaya nodded slowly, her expression turning incredibly grave. "Madame Vespa. The books mention individuals like her, too. Dark practitioners, shadow-walkers who broke away from the primary lines decades ago. She isn't the source of the demon, Riven. She is just the conduit."

"What do you mean?" Zayden demanded, his golden eyes flashing.

"I mean, whoever this Madame Vespa is, she purposefully summoned the entity and put it inside Kathy," Amaya explained, pulling open her leather notebook to show us her translated notes. "The scrolls state that these rogue demons require a completely dormant, unawakened vessel to survive in our realm. Vespa kidnapped her because Kathy’s core was perfectly empty. She bound the demon to Kathy’s bloodline to use her as a living, breathing weapon."

I gripped the edge of the oak table, my knuckles turning white. The thought of that woman standing in the freezing damp of the cellars, chanting ancient trigger words to force a primeval monster down Kathy's throat, made my blood boil so hot it felt like my veins were turning to liquid silver.

"The books outline the binding process," Amaya continued, completely focused on the academic reality of the horror. "Vespa used a multi-tiered linguistic matrix to lock the demon in. That's why Kathy blanks out. The demon is using her body to acclimate to the surface world. And whoever put it there—Vespa, or whoever is pulling Vespa's strings—knows exactly how to control it."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, counting down the seconds we were losing while the entity slept just a few feet away behind my bedroom door.

Amaya slowly rolled the ancient scrolls back up, tying them off with a piece of leather twine. She tucked them safely back inside her jacket and stood up, smoothing the front of her gray uniform.

"You need to read the translations I've left in the notebook," she instructed, her tone strictly business. "We can't just fight this thing with claws and alpha pressure. If you shatter the physical vessel, Kathy dies…or kill us all. We have to follow the ancient texts to find the extraction ritual."

She turned and began walking toward the heavy iron door of the suite.

I stood up, my boots heavy against the floorboards, and followed her to the entryway. I reached out, my hand pressing flat against the iron door just above the deadbolt to stop her from leaving.

Amaya paused, looking at my hand, then slowly lifting her amber eyes to meet mine.

"Why?" I asked, my voice dropping into a low, quiet register. "Why are you doing this, Amaya? You could have handed those logs over to the principal. Why are you helping us?"

Amaya stood perfectly still in the dim, amber light of the entryway. The calculating, predatory sharpness that usually defined her expression softened, just for a fraction of a second.

She looked past my shoulder, her gaze drifting briefly toward the closed timber door of my bedroom where Kathy was sleeping.

She let out a quiet breath, her amber eyes locking back onto mine with an uncharacteristic, absolute sincerity.

"I don't hate Kathy, Riven," she said softly.

She didn't offer a grand explanation. She didn't talk about honor, or treaties, or pack loyalty. She just gave me the simple, unvarnished truth, the words hanging quietly in the heavy air between us.

I stared at her for a long moment, my jaw slowly unclenching. I dropped my hand from the iron door, reaching down to unlatch the brass deadbolt.

"Thank you," I muttered, pulling the door open for her.

Amaya gave me a single, crisp nod, stepping out into the cold stone corridor of the administrative block. "Read the scrolls, Riven. We’re going to need them.”