Chapter 13 A CHEMICAL REACTION.

Chapter 13 A CHEMICAL REACTION.


Seren’s POV

I didn’t just feel pain. it consumed me—body and soul.

My blood felt like it had been replaced with fire.

Every heartbeat sent a fresh wave of agony through my veins, a fire that was stripping away the bond, layer by agonizing layer.

I was on my knees, my fingers clawing at the stone floor until my nails bled. Through the haze of green gas, I saw Draven. He was a mountain collapsing. His eyes weren't gold anymore—his pupils were blown wide with a primal, drugged rage.

"Seren..." He reached for me, his hand trembling, but the moment his fingers brushed my skin, I screamed.

I felt repulsed by the touch of my soulmate.

The poison wasn't just killing me; it was re-wiring me. 

The man I had hungered for, the man whose scent had been everything to me, suddenly smelled like rot. Like death. 

My wolf was no longer purring; she was snarling, trapped in a cage of burning nerves, looking at Draven like he was the monster the Mages always said he was.

"See?" My father’s voice drifted through the toxic fog. He stood at the edge of the chamber, his face a distorted mask of madness. "The 'Fated Mate' is just a formula, daughter. A bit of alchemy can trigger in the blood. You don't love him. You're just reacting to the chemical."

"Shut... up," I wheezed, my forehead pressed against the cold stone.

Draven let out a roar. He lunged for my father, but his movements were sluggish, his coordination shattered by the chemical war in his system.

"I’ll kill you," Draven rasped, his claws extending, his skin smoking.

"You'll kill her first," my father countered, his eyes gleaming with a sick triumph. "Look at her, Draven. The poison is tied to your proximity. The closer you get, the faster she burns. Your very existence is murdering your 'salvation’.'"

Draven froze. 

He looked down at me, and I saw the devastating realization hit him. As he had stepped closer to protect me, the black veins on my neck began increasing. 

My heart was thudding so hard I fear my ribs would snap.

"Get... away," I choked out, the words tasting like blood. "Draven... please."

The rejection in my voice was the final blow. 

Draven stumbled back. For a man whose entire identity was built on possession, being told to stay away was a death sentence.

"I won't leave you," he whispered, even as he backed further away.

"You already have," my father sneered. He signaled to the darkness behind him.

A dozen figures emerged. Not soldiers. Mages. 

They wore the deep violet of the Southern Wastes, their hands glowing with the same sickly green light as the gas.

"The King is compromised," the lead Mage announced, his voice cold. "And the girl is a failed experiment. Erase them both."

The girl…not even SEREN.

They raised their hands.

The air in the chamber turned into a pressurized vacuum. I felt the magic gathering—a strike meant to destroy everything in its path.

But they forgot one thing.

They had spent twenty years treating me like a Beta. A submissive. A victim. They thought the poison would break me.

They didn't realize that when you burn away the "chemicals," you’re left with the raw, unfiltered spirit beneath it. And mine was made of the Wards.

Let it out, my wolf whispered. But she wasn't whimpering anymore. She was laughing.

I didn't reach for Draven’s bond. I reached for the void the poison had created. I sucked in a lungful of the green gas, ignoring the searing pain, and stood up.

My vision cleared. 

"My father was right about one thing," I said, "I am a chemical reaction."

I threw my hands out.

The green gas didn't just spread, it started a fire. 

I turned their own poison into a weapon, a wall of emerald fire that went through the chamber and only towards them.

The Mages shrieked as their own magic was turned back on them.

My father was thrown back against the iron door, the crystal in his hand shattering.

Draven watched me, his eyes wide with a mixture of  admiration and awe. 

I didn’t go to him yet, I walked in front of my father.

"You didn't take care of me," I whispered, a knife in my hand. "So you don't get to break me."

I didn't kill him. I drove the knife through the palm of his hand, pinning him to the wooden frame of the door. He screamed but the sound was lost to me.

I turned back to Draven. The fire was dying down, but the air was still thick with smell of charred skin. 

The poison was still in my blood, a dull ache now, but the repulsion was fading. The bond was trying to stitch itself back together, but it felt different now. 

Draven walked toward me, his movements cautious, like a man approaching a wild animal. He stopped five feet away, his chest heaving.

"Seren?"

"I'm still here, Draven."

"Is it... is it gone? The poison?"

"No," I said, looking at the black veins still visible under my skin. "It’s part of me now. But so are you."

I walked the remaining distance and placed my hand on his chest. He flinched, expecting me to scream, but I didn't. I pulled his head down and kissed him.

"You're not my owner," I whispered against his lips. "And I'm not your salvation. We're just two people who found each other”

Draven’s hands found my waist, his grip so tight that it felt like a claim and a plea all at once. "I'll take it. I’ll take whatever version of you I can have."

We stood in the ruins of the war room, surrounded by the charred remains of the Mages. But as the smoke cleared, I saw Mara and the others emerging from the tunnels.

They weren't looking at the King. They were looking at me.

And in the distance, the horns of the Northern Alliance sounded. They had breached the outer wall.

"They're here," Draven said, his eyes turning back to that lethal gold.

"Good," I said, picking up the dagger. "I’ve had a really bad day, and I need someone to take it out on."