Chapter 49 THE LAST LYCAN QUEEN

Chapter 49 THE LAST LYCAN QUEEN
THE LAST LYCAN QUEEN

I hurried out of the domain and made my way quickly to Seraphine's chambers. I don't how I could but even before I had gotten close to her chamber, I could tell that she was already awake.

She heard me coming long before I reached her chamber. I knew it because the bond tightened like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.

When I pushed the door open, a putrid smell hit me across my face. It smelled like old and fresh blood at once.

I froze when I saw her dragging a corpse to the far side of the room, she was tearing into it without care for grace or fear. Her mouth was stained dark with blood, her hands slick.

Another whiff in the air hit me and I could tell that she had already sprayed the chamber with water and smoke-scented herbs, trying to chase the rot away.

When she sensed me fully, she turned and I could see the hunger still clinging to her. Her shoulders were hunched, she was breathing fast like she had just run a marathon, and her nails were digging into her palms as if she expected chains to drop from the ceiling. For a moment, she looked like a cornered animal. For another, she looked like something far older when she stared back into my eyes.

“Did you feed on that corpse,” I said, keeping my voice even.

She didn’t deny it, she didn't even try to apologize for what she'd done, she just wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and took a step back, as if distance alone might protect her. “I didn’t want to,” she said, and that was the truth. “I couldn’t stop myself.” The way she spoke told me that she was keeping something else back from me.

I closed the door behind me and locked it with a thought. “You’re changing drastically,” I told her. “Your body is learning what it is.”

She let out a dry laugh, “Don’t say that like it’s a gift.”

I walked closer, slow enough not to trigger the instinct to flee. “I need you to know something, Seraphine. Do you remember the last time you asked why that statue in that cave looked like you?" I asked and she simply nodded her head.

"It is because you are the Last Lycan Queen."

The words landed harder than any blow. I felt them strike her through the bond, I felt her mind recoil.

“No,” she said, and then she screamed. “No. You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to name me like that.”

The flames answered her before I could. They crawled up the walls, licking the ceiling. She lunged at me with raw strength, she didn't let fear slow her down. She struck my chest with both hands, bursting out fire from her palms.

I barely felt it, but the force drove me back a step, and that alone would have shattered most creatures.

I caught her wrist before she could strike again and twisted, bringing her down onto the floor. She snarled and tried to bite me but I pressed my knee into her side and pinned her there, keeping one hand at the back of her neck. My grip on her was not hard enough to break but firm enough to remind her who stood over her.

“Enough,” I said with command.

She fought for another heartbeat, then collapsed, tears streaking through the blood on her face. I released her slowly and stepped back, giving her space to rise if she chose.

“I don’t want this,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be anything like that.”

“I didn’t want my fire either,” I said.

She looked at me then, really looked, as if seeing past the crown and the claws. I extended my hand, opening my palm. “Get up. If you’re going to survive this, then you’ll have to learn to control it.”

She hesitated, then took my hand. I pulled her to her feet. I carried the corpse out of the chamber before I led her to the center of the room where the stone was scorched black from centuries of use. With a gesture, I summoned a dragon-forged chain from the floor that was forged to hold gods when gods still walked among us.

“Focus,” I told her. “Feel the fire in your veins as though you're breathing.”

When she tried, flames sparked around her fingers and flared out of control, singing her hair. She cried out and fell to her knees. I didn’t rush to help. I let her fail. Failure was part of the process.

Again and again we tried, this time, she not only burned the floor and the walls but she burnt herself.

Each time, she rose slower, breathing harder. When she could barely stand, I knelt beside her and spoke quietly, telling her of my first shift, of the day my fire tore through my own body and left me screaming in the ash. I told her the number of centuries it took to learn restraint.

She listened. That surprised me more than the power she was wielding.

When she stood again with her legs shaking, I placed the chain around her wrists. “Break it,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “I can’t.”

“You will.” I urged.

She took it from me and screamed as she pulled, fire roaring out of her. The chain held for a moment, then began to glow white before it shattered with a sound like the mountain breaking its spine. The force threw us both back. I hit the wall hard enough to crack the stone. She collapsed, staring at her hands in horror.

The chamber fell silent.

I rose slowly, my heart pounding for the first time in centuries. That chain had held creatures way older than me.