Chapter 43 Seraphina's Secret
Steel rang against stone as Seraphina drove her dagger into the altar, the impact cracking marble and sending silver dust into the air.
“Again.”
The command echoed through the underground chamber, sharp and merciless.
The Alpha kneeling before her snarled as invisible pressure crushed his chest. His knees slammed into the floor, veins bulging at his neck as he struggled to breathe. His wolf thrashed inside him, furious and helpless.
Seraphina raised her hand slowly, moonlight bled from her palm.
The Alpha screamed.
His strength drained instantly, like water pulled from broken skin. His claws retracted, bones creaking as his body weakened under her power. Within seconds, he collapsed fully, shaking, unable to shift, unable to fight.
Seraphina exhaled, satisfied.
“So fragile,” she murmured, stepping over him as if he were nothing more than debris. “Alphas always forget how easily the moon can take back what it gives.”
She turned toward the others watching in silence.
Silver Order priests. Enforcers. Council observers.
Fear flickered in every pair of eyes.
Good.
Seraphina rolled her shoulders, letting the black cloak fall away from her arms. Runes glowed faintly along her skin, ancient symbols etched deep into her flesh long before Dante had ever loved her.
Long before Lyra existed.
“You asked for proof,” she said calmly. “There it is.”
A Silver Priestess stepped forward cautiously. “Moon-Blessed Witchcraft is forbidden,” she said. “Your bloodline was thought extinct.”
Seraphina smiled, slow and sharp.
“They thought wrong.”
She lifted her chin, moonlight catching in her pale hair, her eyes glowing a dangerous shade of silver. “I was blessed by Moon goddess herself. Born to weaken wolves who believe strength alone makes them most superior.”
Her gaze darkened. “Especially Alphas.”
The council members exchanged tense glances.
One spoke carefully. “And Dante… you can weaken him?”
Seraphina’s smile faltered.
For just a second. Then rage filled the gap.
“I can break him,” she said quietly. “I already have.”
Her fingers curled.
Memories surged uninvited.
Dante’s hands on her waist during their first bond dance. His laughter, rare and unguarded. The way his wolf had circled hers instinctively, protective, reverent.
He had been hers. Chosen, destined until Lyra showed up.
Seraphina’s nails dug into her palm as jealousy burned through her veins hotter than any spell.
Lyra.
The girl who appeared out of nowhere, carrying fire and prophecy, stealing Dante’s eyes, his loyalty, his bond.
Everything Seraphina believed belonged to her.
“Dante doesn’t know what she is,” Seraphina continued, voice tightening. “He thinks she’s a queen. A savior. But she is a curse wrapped in pretty flames.”
“And you?” the Priestess asked. “What are you?”
Seraphina stepped closer, her power pressing down like gravity.
“I am the woman who loved him before fate interfered.”
The room fell silent.
“Before prophecy,” Seraphina went on, eyes glistening with obsession. “Before fire queens and shattered crowns. I stood beside him when the world feared his shadow. I bled for him. I endured council torture with his name on my lips.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“And he left me.”
The altar behind her cracked further as raw magic surged.
“He didn’t even look back.”
Anger sharpened into something far more dangerous.
Resolve.
Seraphina turned toward the Silver Council emblem carved into the stone wall. She knelt even though not in submission, but in intention.
“I don’t want your throne,” she said coldly. “I don’t want your power.”
The council members leaned in.
“I want Lyra erased.”
A ripple of approval moved through the chamber.
One elder asked, “And Dante?”
Her breath hitched.
For a moment, pain crossed her face.
Then it hardened into steel.
“If I can’t have Dante,” Seraphina said slowly, deliberately, “no one will.”
Moonlight exploded from her body, flooding the chamber with blinding silver brilliance.
The kneeling Alpha screamed again as his wolf went completely silent.
The council members bowed instinctively.
Seraphina rose, cloak swirling around her like living shadow.
“Prepare the sigils,” she commanded. “I will personally break the her.”
Her lips curved into a twisted smile.
“And Dante will watch.”
Miles away, Lyra staggered as sudden heat tore through her chest.
She grabbed the edge of the war table, breath hitching as flames flared uncontrollably around her wrists.
Rafael was at her side instantly. “Lyra!”
“I’m fine,” she lied through clenched teeth.
But the fire told a different story.
It screamed.
Cassian frowned. “Something just shifted.”
Lyra swallowed, silver-gold eyes flickering.
“She’s moving,” Lyra whispered.
“Who?” Rafael asked.
Lyra straightened slowly, crown of flame igniting above her head without conscious effort.
“Seraphina.”
Elsewhere, Dante jerked awake, heart slamming violently against his ribs.
The bond burned not with longing but with warning.
His wolf snarled, shadows bleeding across the walls as power surged uncontrollably.
Something ancient stirred inside him.
Something that remembered Seraphina’s scent.
Moonlight and betrayal.
Dante pressed a hand to his chest, breath ragged.
“She’s com
ing,” he growled.
And somewhere beneath the earth, Seraphina traced a sigil in silver blood and whispered Dante’s name like a prayer and a curse.
The moon answered.