Chapter 55 CHAPTER 55
High up in the mountains, about four hundred miles from Mooncrest, there was a village hidden deep inside a thick forest. A spell covered the whole place like a heavy blanket, keeping it invisible from the rest of the shifter world. Only the witches who lived there could pass through it.
This village was known for dark magic. The kind the Fae king had forbidden long ago. Potions were made from murdered human parts here, and charms made from bones hung on doorways, clicking softly whenever the wind moved.
At the very centre of this village stood a stone hall, cold and wide.
And on a high chair carved straight from the mountain rock sat the woman who had crowned herself their queen - Seraphine.
The torches around her burned green instead of gold. Their strange light fell over her pale face, making her look even more dangerous. On this day, the silence broke when the doors slowly opened.
A young witch walked in. Her steps were slow, unsure, and her hands shook as she came closer to the throne. When she reached Seraphine, she dropped to one knee and kept her eyes on the floor.
“My Lady,” she whispered, “I bring news.”
Seraphine didn’t move. She didn’t blink.
“You may speak,” Seraphine said, her voice calm, almost bored.
The girl swallowed. “My Lady… Hawit is dead.”
Silence settled across the hall like falling ash.
The girl hesitated, as if surprised that this was all Seraphine cared about. “She… she was caught inside Mooncrest,” she explained. “We were together, but I escaped before the warriors found our hiding place. I’ve been trying to mind-link her since dawn. There is nothing. She’s gone.”
Seraphine’s fingers tapped once on the arm of her chair, a slow and distant rhythm. “Loss of life is unfortunate," she murmured. "Loss of information is unforgivable. Tell me what you learned.”
The spy stiffened, then forced the words out. “The girl is there. She has been in Mooncrest for weeks - hidden inside the palace. And last night… last night was her first shift ceremony.”
For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed Seraphine’s face.
“She shifted?” Her tone slid sharp, thin as a blade.
“Yes, My Lady. The entire kingdom celebrated her. She has been acknowledged as their princess.”
Seraphine leaned back into her chair, her nails curling against the stone. “Princess,” she whispered. “After all these years… she dares to rise.”
The witch trembled. “She’s not alone. A human girl is with her. The two are always together. They slept in the palace; they move with warriors.”
The mountain winds groaned against the windows, but inside the hall the air felt tight, squeezed between the walls.
“I see,” Seraphine said quietly. “What else?”
“I could not learn more,” the spy admitted. “Our cover was broken. It was a narrow escape for me. I barely made it back.”
Seraphine stood, her cloak sweeping across the ground like a shadow. She stepped down one stone stair, her gaze fixed on the trembling witch.
“Well, that’s not a lot of information for all the trouble I went through getting you there. You’re useless.” she said.
The spy bowed again - deeply, fearfully. “I’ll work harder my lady.”
“You bet. Otherwise you’ll understand what happens to those that I have no use for.”
Before Seraphine could dismiss her, another woman hurried into the chamber, breathless.
“My Lady,” she said, dropping to one knee. “Your daughter is here. She wishes to see you.”
Something cold and victorious curled at the edge of Seraphine’s lips. “About time. I could use better news.”
She flicked her hand. “Leave us,” she told the spy.
The girl almost ran out of the chamber.
The heavy doors opened once more, and Seraphine’s daughter stepped in.
She moved with graceful confidence, her cloak a deep shade of blue, her posture upright and proud. Her beauty was sharp - too sharp, like it had been sculpted from ice.
“My child,” Seraphine said, rising from her chair.
She embraced her daughter, though anyone watching would recognize that it was the kind of embrace shared by allies, not family.
“How have you been?” Seraphine asked.
“Well, Mother.” The daughter smiled, “Silverpine is exactly where you want it. And I am doing everything to make you proud.”
Seraphine’s gaze glinted. “Tell me.”
The girl stepped closer to her mother, “When the time is right, Silverpine will burn. Every last piece of it. Their Alpha has no idea what’s happening under his nose. Their warriors grow weaker every day, and they are convinced it is the slave girl’s doing. They believe the goddess cursed them for how they treated her before she left.”
A cruel laugh slipped from her lips.
“They have no idea it is my work. They trust me. They let me walk freely through their ranks. Every drop of their strength that disappears is from my own hand.”
Seraphine’s chest rose with a quiet, satisfied breath. “I knew sending you there was the right choice.”
They traded a look, and their laughter echoed off the cold stone walls.
Seraphine stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Speaking of the slave girl… tell me, have you heard whether anyone in Silverpine suspects the truth?”
“Not at all,” her daughter said. “To them she was only a burden. A mistake. No one thinks she was royalty hiding in plain sight.”
Seraphine’s eyes narrowed. “Royalty,” she echoed. “To think Helena’s child lived under their roof… washed their floors… bowed her head to their Alpha…”
Her jaw tensed. “I should have killed her the day she was captured with her mother. I watched the Hale’s for months, ready to end them all, but then I saw it. The way they dragged her. The way she flinched when they touched her. The punishments, the starvation. The fear in her eyes when she looked at them even if she didn’t understand what was happening to her.”
A thin smile crept across her lips.
“Watching a princess of Mooncrest work as a slave… that was sweeter than death. So I let her live. I let her suffer where no one would ever look for her.”
Her daughter folded her arms. “But now she’s proving to be a problem.”
“A problem,” Seraphine repeated, her voice low. “And a growing one. She has the kingdom’s protection. The people adore her. She shifted into her form - Helena’s form… and they accepted her.”
She ran a hand slowly along the stone of her seat, the gesture cold and thoughtful. “I should have ended her then. I should have burned the entire Hale household to ashes. But I let her live, thinking humiliation would cage her.”
She turned sharply toward her daughter.
“It seems I was wrong.”
The daughter stepped forward. “What will you do now?”
Seraphine returned to her high chair, sitting tall once again. Her eyes glowed faintly, like fading embers ready to ignite. “We wait,” she said. “Every move they make, we watch. Every celebration, every shift, every guard change… we listen.”
Her daughter bowed her head. “And Silverpine?”
“Continue,” Seraphine answered. “Drain them until they are nothing but bones and fear. When Mooncrest looks for allies, Silverpine will be too broken to help. When war comes, they will fall first.”
She rested her chin on her hand, thinking deeply. “As for the princess… Helena’s child… I will not make the same mistake twice. I have an ally within their walls. I will reach out to them for help.”
“Let her enjoy her little celebration,” she whispered. “Let her believe she belongs. Let her taste warmth before the cold takes it back.”
Her daughter watched her with admiration, even hunger.
“When the time is right,” Seraphine said softly, “Mooncrest will kneel. And the girl who calls herself princess… will kneel first.”