Chapter 187: Chapter 187

Kai’s POV

Lucian’s body lay sprawled across the marble floor, his chest heaving and face drenched in sweat. The beast had finally receded.

Again.

Rowan stood on the other side of the chamber, clutching his ribs, bruised but unharmed. Furniture was overturned, the stone walls cracked in places from Lucian’s outburst. But nothing too grave—this time.

I knelt beside our brother as he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at me, ashamed and drained, the same way he always did after losing control.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” I said, though I knew it wasn’t much of a comfort.

Lucian sat up slowly, gripping my shoulder. “This… can’t go on like this. I have to find a way out of it.”

“We’re trying,” Rowan said from behind, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “But until Mira comes back—”

“She shouldn’t have to fix me,” Lucian cut in sharply. “Not again. I need to try something myself.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“The Moon Goddess’ shrine.”

Rowan and I exchanged a look.

“You’re serious?” I asked.

Lucian nodded. “Mira prayed for me there. It worked. She calmed the beast—without force. Without potions. Just belief. Maybe… maybe I can do the same.”

“It’s dangerous,” Rowan warned. “You could lose control again—there are moon disciples at the shrine. Civilians. What if you—”

“I won’t,” Lucian said firmly. “I feel it. The pull. Something’s calling me there. If I’m ever going to fix this, I need to go.”

I hesitated.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to believe him. I did. But trusting Lucian with himself… was a risk. Still, I remembered how Mira had knelt in the courtyard, incense burning, whispering prayers. How Lucian’s beast had stilled beneath her voice.

Perhaps faith was stronger than restraint.

I finally gave a slow nod. “You’ll go. But you’ll take guards.”

“Just a driver,” Lucian insisted. “If I’m to control it, I have to do it alone.”

Reluctantly, we agreed.

We watched as he climbed into the black carriage an hour later, the sun rising faintly over the rooftops. The guards opened the gates and Lucian vanished down the path.

I stood at the top step, arms crossed.

“Please be right about this,” I whispered.

Not long after, two hooded figures entered through the west gate and were escorted directly to us. Rowan and I met them in the central hallway.

The moment I saw them, I stiffened. Shadow guards.

I recognized them instantly—the ones we sent after Mira.

Rowan’s reaction was faster than mine.

“You’re back early,” he growled. “Too early.”

The taller one bowed. “She ordered us to return.”

“What?” Rowan snapped.

“She’s safe,” the second one assured. “In the custody of witches. She passed into the coven’s protected grounds and insisted she no longer needed escort.”

I glanced at Rowan, then back at them.

“Are you certain?” I asked.

They nodded. “We confirmed the presence of a coven. Twelve women. Ancient energy surrounding the grounds. Mira spoke their tongue and gave them a token. They welcomed her.”

Rowan paced away, dragging a hand down his face. “So… she really found them.”

A wave of relief washed over me, mixed with something else—disappointment. She hadn’t sent word. No letter. No sign. Only the dismissal of her guards. It was hard not to take it personally.

But more importantly…

“She’s with the witches,” I said slowly. “That means… her father lied. He said he wanted her to find her destiny, to restore the family. But she found the witches, not him.”

Rowan stopped pacing. “So she wasn’t the threat. He is.”

I nodded.

“Anton Tourmalaine.”

Later that morning, we convened in the council hall with Ryker and a few other senior councilmen. I sat at the head of the table, arms folded tightly as the shadow guards delivered their full report.

When they left, silence stretched between us.

“He’s the enemy now,” I said. “Not Mira.”

Ryker adjusted his spectacles, thoughtful. “Anton hasn’t responded to your invitation either, has he?”

“No,” Rowan answered flatly.

“It could be a refusal by silence,” another councilman added. “A quiet declaration of hostility.”

“Or caution,” Ryker said. “Perhaps he’s waiting.”

I leaned forward. “Anton isn’t the kind of man who waits. I worked with him for years. On the surface, he’s a chief of a modest village. But underneath that? He’s sharp. Resourceful. Calculating.”

“You believe he’s planning something?” Ryker asked.

I nodded. “Absolutely. And not responding to our invitation? That wasn’t hesitation. That was strategy.”

The other councilmen shifted uncomfortably.

“So what do you propose?” one asked. “Do we move against him?”

“Not yet,” I replied. “Not until Mira returns. She deserves to be the one to decide what’s to be done about her father.”

“I disagree,” Rowan cut in. “She’s not here. And if he’s plotting against us, waiting could be a mistake.”

“But,” I added, “we also can’t be seen as aggressors. Not yet. If we attack unprovoked, we lose political ground. We make enemies. We justify whatever he’s planning.”

Ryker nodded. “So we wait?”

“No,” I said. “We prepare.”

I called in General Ardyn shortly after. He arrived in full armor, a thick file tucked under his arm.

“We need to know everything about Anton Tourmalaine’s village. Geography. Numbers. Resources. Trade flow.”

“Already on it, Alpha,” he said. “And something else—we’ve stationed more warriors at the western border, near the river trail leading to Anton’s lands.”

“Good,” Rowan muttered. “Let them come.”

I turned back to the councilmen. “We also send spies. Two. Disguised as traders. Let them enter the village, feel the atmosphere, listen to whispers. If Anton is preparing for war—or aligning with others—we’ll know.”

“You believe he has allies?” Ryker asked.

“Someone’s been helping him,” I said. “The letters to Mira weren’t ordinary. The ink was rare. The language coded. He’s not working alone.”

Rowan leaned forward. “I don’t care how many schemes he’s running—we end them. We protect our people.”

The room nodded in agreement.

But I knew Anton. And I knew that whatever he was planning… he’d already factored in that we’d be watching.

This wouldn’t be a battle of blades. It would be a battle of minds.

And this time, the enemy wasn’t some distant monster or cursed beast.

It was the man who once claimed to be our ally.

And now… he was Mira’s father.