Chapter 54 CHAPTER 55
Elowen woke before the moon had fully loosened its grip on the sky.
The chamber was cold.
Not the honest cold of winter, but the hollow kind—the kind that seeped into bone and lingered no matter how tightly one pulled the furs around their shoulders. She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling beams carved with old pack sigils, listening.
No steady breathing beside her.
She had stopped reaching for that comfort days ago.
Instead, she pressed her palm to the floor, letting her senses stretch outward, searching for the quiet pulse of the pack. The land answered her, faint but present. It always did. It was the one thing that had never abandoned her.
Yet even that connection felt… thinner.
Like a river diverted upstream.
Elowen sat up slowly, dread coiling in her stomach. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and dressed in silence, braiding her hair with fingers that felt clumsy, distant from her own body.
Today was the cleansing ritual.
A shared rite, older than the pack itself, performed when balance began to waver. It required the Alpha and Luna—together. The elders had insisted.
Darius had not objected.
Seraphine, however, had smiled.
The sacred clearing lay deep within the forest, where the trees grew tall and ancient, their roots breaking stone and memory alike. The air there always hummed, thick with power and reverence.
The elders formed a loose circle. Kael stood at Darius’s right hand, his expression unreadable but his jaw tense. Mira and Rowan lingered at the edge of the gathering, close enough to witness, far enough not to intrude.
And Seraphine stood where Elowen had once stood alone.
Not beside Darius—but near him. Close enough that their shoulders brushed when they moved.
Elowen felt it before she saw it.
The wrongness.
The land stirred uneasily beneath her feet.
“Begin,” Elder Thane intoned.
Elowen stepped forward, heart pounding. She met Darius’s eyes—searching for something, anything. What she found was courtesy. Concern. No warmth.
She swallowed.
Together, they knelt.
Elowen placed her hands on the earth, breathing deep, opening herself the way she always had—fully, honestly, without reservation. Her magic unfurled like roots seeking water.
The land responded.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
A whisper brushed the edge of her awareness.
Not words.
Pressure.
She gasped, fingers digging into the soil as something tugged—not violently, not enough to alarm anyone else—but persistently, greedily.
Her vision swam.
Beside her, Seraphine lowered herself gracefully, palms hovering just above the ground.
“I’ll stabilize the flow,” she murmured, voice soft, soothing. “Just until Elowen regains her balance.”
Darius nodded immediately. “Do it.”
No hesitation.
No question.
The elders exchanged glances, but said nothing.
The pressure intensified.
Elowen bit back a cry.
It felt like cold fingers sliding beneath her skin, threading through her magic, siphoning—not draining entirely, but skimming the surface, taking just enough to weaken her hold.
She tried to pull back.
The land resisted her.
Not rejected—redirected.
Seraphine’s eyes met hers.
For the briefest moment, the warmth vanished.
What replaced it was hunger.
Then it was gone, masked behind concern as Seraphine pressed her palms down fully and the clearing flared with power.
The ritual completed itself in a rush of energy.
The elders exhaled in relief.
The land stilled.
Elowen sagged forward, catching herself before she collapsed.
Darius was at Seraphine’s side instantly. “Are you all right?”
Seraphine swayed slightly. “It took more than I expected.”
“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself,” he said sharply, hands hovering as if unsure whether he was allowed to touch her.
Elowen stared at the space between them.
Empty.
Kael moved to Elowen then, gripping her elbow. “Easy,” he murmured. His eyes flicked to Seraphine, narrowed. “You didn’t look well.”
“I’m fine,” Elowen whispered.
But she wasn’t.
Something was missing.
Later, alone by the river, Elowen knelt and plunged her hands into the water, trying to ground herself. The river responded sluggishly, its usual warmth dulled.
Tears blurred her vision.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered to Mira, who sat beside her, silent and watchful. “I didn’t lose control. I’ve never lost control.”
Mira hesitated. “El… have you noticed how Seraphine always seems strongest when you feel weakest?”
Elowen stiffened. “Careful.”
“I know,” Mira said quickly. “I know how it sounds. I just—something feels wrong.”
Rowan appeared then, expression dark. “It is wrong.”
Elowen closed her eyes. “If you speak against her without proof, the pack will turn on you.”
“Or on you,” Rowan shot back. “They already are.”
That hurt more than Elowen expected.
Seraphine returned to her chambers later that night, locking the door behind her with a flick of her wrist.
The room pulsed faintly with warded magic—layers upon layers, invisible to anyone but her.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
Power surged.
Not enough. Never enough.
But growing.
She laughed softly, the sound echoing strangely in the enclosed space.
Elowen’s magic was exquisite. Pure. Old. Bound deeply to the land and the lunar cycle. It tasted of devotion and sacrifice—qualities witches had long learned to exploit.
Soon, she thought again.
The bond between Alpha and Luna was the final key. Once Elowen was weak enough—once Darius no longer loved her but remained bound—the transfer would be possible.
A Luna without love was a vessel waiting to be emptied.
A knock sounded at her door.
She smoothed her expression before opening it.
Darius stood there, troubled. “The elders are concerned about Elowen.”
Seraphine tilted her head sympathetically. “She’s under a great deal of strain. Perhaps she’s trying to hold on to a role that’s… changed.”
The words were gentle.
The implication was not.
Darius exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to help her anymore.”
Seraphine stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You don’t have to choose tonight.”
But she knew.
He already had.
That night, Elowen dreamed of roots breaking, of the moon slipping from the sky, of hands pulling pieces of her away while everyone she loved looked on, convinced it was for the best.
She woke with a scream lodged in her throat and tears soaking her pillow.
The bond pulsed.
Steady.
Unloving.
And somewhere in the stronghold, Seraphine slept peacefully, wrapped in stolen power, already planning the next thing she would take.