Chapter 92 — Warnings of War
The gates of the museum didn’t look like much from the outside. That was the first thing that struck me.
No towering pillars. No gold carvings. No obvious guards with weapons drawn. Just an old stone structure tucked behind a curtain of tall trees, its walls worn by time and quietly protected by magic I could feel humming beneath my skin.
The moment our car came to a stop, my senses reacted.
The air felt heavier here–older. Like the land itself remembered things no one spoke about anymore.
Edward’s hand rested lightly on mine before Titan helped him out of the car. I followed closely, my heart beating faster with every step toward the entrance. A man and a woman dressed in deep silver robes greeted us with respectful bows.
“Alpha Edward,” the man said. “Welcome to the Sacred Museum.”
Then his gaze shifted to me.
“And you must be Elara.”
Something about the way he said my name made my spine straighten.
“Yes,” I replied softly.
His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, as if he was trying to see past my skin–past my face–and into something deeper.
“You are most welcome here,” the woman added. “Please, follow us.”
The doors opened without a sound.
The moment I stepped inside, it felt like crossing into another world.
The walls glowed faintly, etched with symbols that pulsed gently, responding to my presence. Ancient markings told stories without words–wolves running beneath moons, alphas standing at the center of circles, bloodlines intertwining like roots beneath the earth.
“This place holds our history,” the guide explained as we walked. “Everything the packs have chosen to remember… and some things we wish we could forget.”
The first hall was dedicated to the Moon Goddess.
Paintings, statues, and scrolls filled the space. She was depicted in many forms–sometimes gentle and glowing, sometimes fierce and commanding. Her eyes followed you no matter where you stood.
“She is the source of all we are,” the woman said. “Our wolves. Our gifts. Our bonds.”
I felt something stir in my chest as I stared at a mural showing her hand stretched toward a kneeling wolf, light pouring into its body.
My skin prickled.
We moved on to the territories–large carved maps showing the different packs, their borders marked not by lines but by symbols of treaties, bloodshed, and alliances.
“Each pack has its land,” the guide said. “And each alpha is chosen not only by strength, but by lineage and the will of the Goddess herself.”
Edward listened closely, his jaw tight, his posture attentive. This wasn’t new information to him–but I could tell he was watching me, gauging my reactions.
Next came the hall of bloodlines.
Portraits of past alphas lined the walls, their eyes sharp and proud. Beneath each image was a record of their reign–victories, failures, sacrifices.
“Alpha lineage is sacred,” the man explained. “But not every alpha is born equal. Some are chosen because they must lead during peace. Others… because they must lead during war.”
That word made my stomach tighten. War.
We entered another chamber, darker than the last.
“This section speaks of the Betas,” the woman said quietly. “The gifted ones.”
Images shifted across the walls–wolves with markings, glowing eyes, abilities beyond the ordinary. Healers, seers, wolves born with different powers meant to protect their packs.
“And yet,” the man continued, his voice heavy, “history shows us how often they were abused.”
My breath caught as the images changed. Cages and chains.
Men in white coats. Needles. Experiments.
“They were captured,” he said. “Sold. Used for research. For breeding. For power.”
Edward’s hand tightened around mine.
“Entire wars were started because of this,” the woman added. “And more will come… if history repeats itself.”
I swallowed hard. Then we entered another hall.
“This,” the guide said, “is where we keep the mysteries.”
The air felt colder here. At the center of the room stood a single sculpture.
A wolf. Pure white. Not silver. Not pale gray. White. My heart slammed so hard it felt like it might break my ribs.
I had seen it before. In my dream. The crown. The light.
“White wolves are rare,” the man said. “Extremely rare. A clean white shifter has appeared only a handful of times in our recorded history.”
“What do they represent?” I asked, my voice barely steady.
The woman turned to face me fully.
“They emerge when balance is threatened,” she said. “When war is coming. When darkness grows too bold.”
My fingers trembled.
“The white wolf stands beside the alpha,” the man added. “Not above. Not beneath. But equal in purpose. Their presence together means–protection and peace”
I forced myself to breathe.
Edward glanced at me. “Elara?”
“I’m fine,” I lied softly.
But my mind was screaming.
Should I tell him?
About the dream. About the crowning. About the way it felt like it wasn’t just a vision–but a memory waiting to happen.
No. Not yet. I needed answers first.
From someone who understood this world better than I did.
Seraphina’s father. Or maybe Ma’am Albright.
Anyone but Edward.
Because once I said it out loud… he would be too pressured.
Back at the mansion, Vivian slammed the car door so hard the windows rattled.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, fury burning through her veins.
“This is unacceptable,” she snapped.
Slade said nothing. He simply parked and got out, knowing better than to speak.
Vivian stormed inside and locked herself in her room.
Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.
“You need to do it,” she said the moment the call connected. “Tonight.”
There was a pause.
“That’s too sudden,” the voice on the other end replied. “We haven’t planned anything properly. If we rush this…”
“I don’t care,” Vivian snapped. “It has to be tonight.”
“This could fail,” the voice warned. “We need time.”
“No,” she said sharply. “I won’t wait, or are you ready to forfeit your pay?.”
Another pause.
Then, cautiously, “What about tomorrow? Just one day. Let us prepare.”
Vivian’s lips curled into a cold smile. “No. Tonight.”
Silence stretched between them. Finally, the voice exhaled. “Fine. We’ll get ready.”
Vivian ended the call, her eyes dark with satisfaction.
Whatever was coming… would not wait for morning.