Chapter 5
By the time we reached the inner halls of the Lycan Citadel, my body felt like it was vibrating with an energy I didn't understand. The walls were carved from obsidian stone veined with silver—alive with the faint hum of ancient magic. Every step echoed like footsteps inside a cathedral built for warriors and ghosts.
But none of that compared to the sensation of being watched.
Lycans lined the hallway—elite guards, seasoned warriors, advisors, servants. Every pair of inhuman eyes tracked me as if I were a threat… or a mistake they wished their king had never made.
The king, however, walked as if the world itself would part before him.
When the heavy doors to the council chamber swung open, a rush of cold air swept over me. Twelve high-ranking Lycans sat around a long stone table, their expressions a mixture of hostility and thinly veiled curiosity.
And fear.
Not of me.
Of him.
The Lycan King stepped inside, powerful and unhurried, his cape flowing behind him like a trail of storm clouds.
The room bowed.
I froze in the doorway, unsure what to do.
His golden eyes slid toward me.
"Elaine," he said quietly, "come here."
Not a request.
A command that wrapped around my spine and pulled.
My feet obeyed before my mind could.
A murmur rippled through the council.
"Your Majesty," an older Lycan with snow-white hair said carefully, "we were informed you brought back… someone."
Someone.
Not a girl.
Not a guest.
Something else entirely.
The king didn't sit. He simply placed a hand on the table, and the air seemed to thicken.
"This is Elaine," he said. "She is under my protection."
A wave of unease swept through the room.
Another council member narrowed his eyes. "A… wolf-born girl, is she not? From the Mooncrest Pack?"
My heart lurched.
They knew.
"Yes," the king replied.
"And… wolfless?"
The insult sliced through the air, sharp and intentional.
The king didn't even blink.
"She is what I say she is."
A chill swept over me.
His tone carried a weight that made even the elders lower their heads.
One of them dared to continue.
"And what is she, Your Majesty?"
My breath caught.
Every eye in the room turned to the king.
He looked down at me—not gently, not cruelly, but with a focus that made it hard to breathe.
"She," he said, "is under the Moon's protection. And under mine."
The way he spoke mine made the entire council stiffen.
A younger male, braver—or more foolish—than the rest, stood.
"With respect, Your Majesty, bringing a wolf-born girl into the Citadel is dangerous. The packs may see this as an act of war."
The king's head tilted. "And?"
The room froze.
"And…" the young advisor swallowed, "you went alone. Into wolf lands. Without an escort. To retrieve her."
His gaze flickered to me.
"Why? What is she to you?"
My pulse hammered. I felt exposed, out of place, undeserving of this level of attention.
The king's eyes darkened.
"Elaine is not your concern."
"Your Majesty—"
A growl rolled from the king's chest, low and lethal.
Every Lycan in the room dropped to one knee instantly.
Except me.
I just stood there, trembling.
The king hadn't lifted a finger, but the air vibrated with the force of his dominance.
"Rise," he commanded.
They obeyed—slowly, cautiously.
The eldest member cleared his throat.
"Forgive us, King Malakai… but the council must know. If she is to remain within the Citadel, we must be aware of her purpose."
Purpose.
As though I were some weapon he dragged in from a battlefield.
King Malakai stepped closer—to me, not them.
His presence washed over me, warm and cold at once.
My breath caught as he lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"She will awaken here," he said.
Shivers laced through me.
Awaken?
Before I could speak, a thundering crash echoed behind us.
The doors slammed open.
A large Lycan warrior stormed inside, panting, eyes wide with fury.
"Your Majesty—news from Mooncrest. They seek an audience."
My stomach dropped.
The king's expression didn't change.
"Why?"
"They… demand the girl returned."
The council erupted.
"She was rejected—why would they—?"
"They never wanted her!"
"Unless—unless they realized—"
The warrior interrupted, voice shaking.
"They say she is a criminal."
A cold sweat prickled down my back.
"What?" I whispered.
"A girl without a wolf is cursed," the warrior continued. "They claim she is dangerous. A threat to their pack."
A lie.
A convenient one.
My stepmother's voice echoed in my memory:
"You're nothing but a blemish on this pack."
Of course she would twist my rejection into something worse.
The council bristled.
"This complicates everything—"
"If the packs unite against us—"
"We cannot harbor her if—"
King Malakai raised a hand.
Silence.
Deadly.
He turned to the warrior.
"Tell Mooncrest one thing."
His voice dropped into something cold and merciless.
"She. Is. Mine."
A hush fell so heavy it felt like the room itself held its breath.
"And if they wish to reclaim what they rejected," he continued, "they will need to step into my kingdom and take her from my hands."
The warrior bowed and rushed out.
I stared at the king, heart pounding.
"Why did you say that?" I whispered.
He turned to me, gaze burning with intensity I couldn't decipher.
"Because," he said, "they will not have you."
I stepped back. "Why? Why are you doing all of this?"
"For reasons," he answered softly, "that you are not ready to hear."
A knot formed in my throat.
"Then tell me what I am ready to hear."
He studied me for a long moment.
Then—
"You are not wolfless."
The words hit me like a blow.
I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.
He continued:
"You are not weak. You are not cursed. And you were not rejected because you were unworthy."
My vision blurred.
My heart stuttered painfully.
"Then why?" I breathed. "Why did he reject me?"
The king's jaw tightened.
"Because something inside you is awakening," he said. "Something that terrifies them."
Terrifies… them?
Before I could speak, a pulse of warmth suddenly shot through my chest—bright, sharp, familiar. My breath caught as the energy surged, wild and uncontrollable.
I stumbled.
The king caught me instantly—one arm around my waist, the other holding my shoulder steady.
"Easy," he murmured.
But the warmth only spread faster.
A glow—silver, faint but unmistakable—shimmered beneath my skin.
Gasps filled the room.
Several council members stepped back in fear.
The king's grip tightened.
"It's starting," he said.
"What's starting?" I gasped.
His eyes burned gold.
"Your awakening."