Chapter 25 Twenty Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Sara’s POV
The Creed stepped out from between the stone pillars as if they had been waiting for us. There were fewer of them than I expected—six, maybe seven—but they carried themselves with a confidence that said numbers didn’t matter. Their leader stood at the front, the same man from the courtyard, the same man from my mother’s memory.
He didn’t look rushed or out of breath. He looked calm, which somehow felt more dangerous than anything else.
Xenon positioned himself directly between me and the Creed. His stance was anchored, shoulders squared, every part of him ready to move. Ryker stood at his left, Kael at his right. The warriors spread out behind them.
The man’s eyes shifted to me. “You opened it.”
His tone wasn’t surprised. It was expected.
Xenon answered for me. “She owes you nothing.”
The man’s gaze flicked to him. “You cannot protect her from what she carries.”
“I can protect her from you,” Xenon said.
“From me,” the man repeated, almost amused. “You think that is the threat.”
Ryker tightened his grip on his blade. “What do you want.”
The man ignored him and spoke only to me. “You saw what your mother hid. You saw what she feared.”
“I saw pieces,” I said. My voice was steady, though my hands weren’t. “Not everything.”
“Enough,” he replied. “Enough to understand that the memory belongs with us.”
“It belongs with me,” I said.
Kael shifted. “You do not claim her memory. No one does.”
The man tilted his head. “Is that what they told you. That you are free. That your bloodline means nothing.”
He took one step forward.
Xenon’s arm shot out, blocking him. “Do not take another step.”
The man didn’t obey, but he didn’t move forward either. He watched Xenon with a cold curiosity, like he was studying something unfamiliar.
“You are different from the other Alphas,” he said. “They fear what they do not understand. You fear losing what you already value.”
Xenon didn’t blink. “You know nothing about me.”
The man looked at me again. “Your mother knew this day would come. She hid the origin memory inside you because she understood the Creed would never stop hunting it.”
Kael’s expression hardened. “If you know that, then you also know she removed it for a reason.”
“Yes,” the man said. “She removed it because she was afraid of what it revealed. But fear does not change truth. Fear only delays it.”
My pulse sped up. “What is the truth.”
“Not yet,” he said. “The memory will surface on its own. You cannot force it, and they cannot protect you from it.”
“They can,” I said. “And they will.”
He shook his head. “Your destiny is older than this pack. Older than any Alpha here. Your bloodline began with the origin, and it will end with you if you reject what you carry.”
Xenon stepped forward. “She is not ending anything today.”
The man finally shifted his attention fully to him. “You are in the way.”
“You will not touch her,” Xenon replied.
The man’s expression didn’t change, but the air around him grew colder. “Do you know what she is.”
“I know she is mine to protect,” Xenon said.
The man studied Xenon’s posture, then smiled slightly. “The bond is still there.”
Xenon tensed. “That is none of your concern.”
“It is exactly my concern,” the man replied. “Your bond is the only thing delaying her awakening. But it will not hold forever.”
Xenon’s jaw tightened. “I rejected the bond.”
The man’s smile widened. “Yet it returned on its own. Why do you think that is.”
Xenon froze.
Kael’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying.”
The man took another slow step forward. “A rejection cannot break a predetermined bond. Not one tied to an origin carrier.”
Ryker muttered under his breath. “This is not good.”
The man looked directly at Xenon. “You pushed her away, but your bond never severed. You felt it the moment you touched her again. The moment you dragged her into your wing. The moment she fell in the corridor. You cannot deny what you already know.”
Xenon didn’t move, but his expression tightened.
He knew the man was right.
And the man knew he knew.
Kael stepped between them. “Enough. You want the girl, not the Alpha. Your fight is not with him.”
The man shifted his gaze to Kael. “My fight is with anyone who thinks they can stand between her and the memory she carries.”
Kael didn’t back down. “Then you have several fights ahead of you.”
The man turned back to me. “Sara. Or should I call you by the name your mother gave you. The one you heard in the woods.”
My throat closed.
Xenon growled, deep and dangerous. “Say that name out loud and I will remove your tongue.”
The man smiled faintly. “You cannot stop what she is becoming.”
Kael spoke quickly before Xenon acted on his threat. “You want something specific from her. You are not here to take her by force.”
“No,” the man said. “Not today.”
Ryker stepped closer. “Then what did you come here for.”
The man’s eyes lingered on me. “To warn her.”
Xenon’s eyes narrowed. “Warn her of what.”
The man stepped back, fading into the shadows of the pillars in a way that didn’t seem natural. “Of what she will remember next.”
Kael tense. “What is next.”
The man’s voice softened. “The betrayal.”
That word hit me like a blow. “Betrayal by who.”
He didn’t answer directly. He only said:
“You will see it. Soon.”
The shadows swallowed him as if he stepped through the stone itself. The remaining Creed members followed, one by one, disappearing without sound or scent.
Within seconds, the valley was empty.
Ryker broke the silence. “Alpha. They left on purpose.”
Kael nodded. “This was not an attack. It was a message.”
Xenon turned to me.
His expression wasn’t angry or panicked.
It was determined.
“We are leaving,” he said. “Now.”
Ryker signaled the warriors to move.
Kael approached me. “Sara. Whatever the next memory is, it will be stronger than the last. Prepare yourself.”
Xenon placed a hand on the back of my neck and steered me gently toward the exit of the valley. “She is not facing anything alone.”
Kael met his eyes. “She might have to.”
Xenon didn’t look away. “Not while I am breathing.”
As we left the valley, the pressure behind my ribs tightened.
Not a flash. Not a vision.
Just a certainty.
Whatever the next memory held, it wasn’t about my mother.
It was about someone else.
Someone still alive.
Someone close.