Chapter Seventy-Six – Dreams of Fire

Chapter Seventy-Six – Dreams of Fire
Sleep did not bring Angelica peace.

She curled against Arthur’s chest, his arms wrapped around her like a fortress, his steady heartbeat under her ear. He slept restlessly, his wolf twitching at every sound, his body still bruised and torn from battle. And yet, even broken, he shielded her with everything he was.

Angelica closed her eyes, pressing into his warmth, whispering against his skin, Always.

But when dreams came, they were not hers.

She stood in a field of ash.

The sky burned gold, the ground cracked with molten fire. Wolves lay scattered the packs, fallen and silent, their fur scorched, their eyes empty.

And at the center, Arthur knelt.

His body broken, his amber eyes dim, his shadow dissipating like smoke.

Angelica’s breath shattered. “Arthur!”

She ran, her silver fire sparking, but chains of gold lashed from the ground, wrapping her ankles, her wrists, her throat. She stumbled, fell to her knees, screaming as Seraphine’s laughter echoed across the burning field.

“You cannot save him,” the voice hissed. “You never could. He bleeds because of you. He weakens because of you. Without you, he would be whole.”

“No!” Angelica sobbed, fighting the chains, her fire sputtering. “He chose me. He chose this bond.”

Seraphine’s voice sharpened, cruel. “He chose wrong. And deep down, you know it. You know you’ll drag him into the grave with you.”

The chains tightened, her body convulsing. Arthur lifted his head, his eyes dull, his voice faint.

“Angelica why didn’t you let me go?”

Her scream split the dream, her fire bursting wild, tearing at the chains.

Arthur woke with her cry ripping through the night.

He bolted upright, clutching her thrashing body. “Angelica! Wake up!”

Her eyes snapped open glowing gold. Her claws dug into his arms, not knowing him, her body writhing. Silver fire flared and sputtered, tangled with gold.

Arthur’s wolf howled in panic. He pinned her wrists gently but firmly, his forehead pressing to hers, his voice breaking. “Angelica, it’s me. It’s Arthur. Come back to me.”

Her breath came ragged, her voice distorted, two tones at once. “Arthur? Or Seraphine?”

His chest cracked. “It’s me, love. Always me. Look at me.”

Silver flickered faint under the gold, her tears slipping. Arthur… I can’t stop seeing you fall. I can’t stop hearing her.

His arms tightened, his voice trembling. Then let me drown out her voice. Let me anchor you. Angelica, listen I love you. I will not let her take you. You are mine. Always.

Her body shook, her fire surging, silver clashing against gold. For a heartbeat, her eyes cleared, silver shining through.

“Always,” she whispered.

And then she collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest.

Arthur held her through the night, whispering against her hair, rocking her gently.

“I’m here. You’re safe. She can’t touch you while I hold you. Always.”

Angelica trembled, her hands gripping his tunic. “She’s in my dreams, Arthur. Twisting them. Making me believe you’d be better without me. That you’d be free if I wasn’t yours.”

Arthur pulled back, cupping her face, his amber eyes blazing with tears. “Don’t you ever believe that. You’re the only reason I’ve survived this long. Without you, I’m nothing. You’re not my chain you’re my breath.”

Her tears spilled faster, her voice breaking. “What if she’s right? What if I drag you down?”

He kissed her fiercely, his lips trembling against hers, pouring every ounce of truth into the bond. “Then I’ll go down gladly, as long as I’m with you. Because there is no me without you.”

Her sob cracked, but silver fire steadied, flickering stronger against the gold. She pressed her forehead to his, whispering, “Always.”

The next day, whispers spread through camp.

Wolves had heard her cries in the night, seen the silver and gold flashing in their tent. Fear sharpened in their eyes again.

“She fights it still.”
“She’s not free.”
“What if she becomes Seraphine?”

Arthur snarled at every whisper, his wolf bristling. But Angelica stood tall, her silver gaze steady even when her hands shook.

“Yes,” she told the packs, her voice carrying. “I fight her still, she lingers in me but every time she whispers, I choose differently. I chose my mate, I chose my pack, I chose love. And I will keep choosing, every time, until I outshine her completely.”

Silence followed. Then a few bowed. Then more. The fear did not vanish, but trust fragile, tentative stirred again.

Arthur’s chest swelled with pride. That night, when they were alone, he kissed her knuckles, whispering, “You burn brighter every time you speak. They’ll see it. They’ll learn.”

Her smile was faint, weary. “I hope so. But even if they don’t… you see me. That’s enough.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, whispering fiercely, “Always.”

But when sleep came again, the ember stirred.

Angelica dreamed of fire, of whispers, of Arthur’s body broken in the ash.

Only this time, Seraphine’s voice was softer, coaxing.

“You could stop his suffering if you let me in. If you gave me the bond. You could keep him safe by surrendering yourself.”

Angelica’s heart twisted. She screamed in the dream, her fire raging, but the whisper curled sweet and poisonous.

And faintly, even in sleep, her lips moved against Arthur’s chest. “Arthur safer without me.”

Arthur’s wolf jolted awake. His heart seized, his hands clutching her tight. “No. No, love. You are never a danger to me. You are my salvation.”

He shook, rocking her gently, his tears soaking her hair. “Fight her, Angelica. Fight her with me. Please. Always.”

Her breath hitched, her fire sparking silver burning brighter, burning back the gold. Her whisper came faint, trembling. “Always.”

Arthur exhaled a sob of relief, holding her through the dawn.