Chapter 193: Mystery

Azura’s POV

We remained completely frozen in that exact position, our eyes locked onto each other in the quiet room.

Rhydor’s amber eyes burned directly into mine with a dark, heavy intensity that made it completely impossible for me to look away.

His large palms were still planted firmly on the smooth wood on either side of my hips, trapping my body entirely within the safe circle of his broad shoulders while my legs dangled uselessly off the edge of the tall executive desk.

The thick silence stretching between us felt incredibly heavy, suffocating, and absolutely packed to the brim with a million unspoken secrets that neither of us was brave enough to voice out loud.

Neither of us so much as blinked an eye, our breathing shallow and completely synchronized in the dim light of the study.

Then, a sudden, sharp sound shattered the heavy quiet.

Knock.

Rhydor didn’t flinch.

He didn’t pull his body away from mine, and his piercing gaze never left my face for even a fraction of a second.

The only visible sign that he had heard the noise was the sudden, hard twitch of his jaw muscle as he ground his teeth together in pure irritation.

Knock.

Finally, with a slow, reluctant movement, he turned his massive head toward the heavy oak door.

No voice echoed from the other side of the wood to announce the visitor.

There was no sound of shuffling footsteps on the rug, and there wasn’t a single trace of a presence that I could physically feel in the air.

My inner wolf was still deeply asleep inside my soul, completely locked away, which meant I was totally blind to the spiritual energy of anyone standing outside.

But I knew with certainty that Rhydor could feel exactly who it was.

I saw the sudden change written across his frame as his broad shoulders shifted back, a look of grim recognition settling deep into his eyes.

He knew exactly who was disrupting us.

He turned his face back around to look at me one last time, his lips brushing dangerously close to my ear.

"You got lucky this time, Pumpkin," he murmured, his deep voice dropping into a low, rough rumble.

He took a large step backward, his hands leaving the surface of the desk.

He straightened his massive body up to his full, towering height in a single smooth, controlled movement, turning on his heel to walk directly toward the entrance.

He twisted the brass handle, yanked the heavy door open, and stepped out into the corridor.

The oak door slammed shut behind his back without him casting a single glance over his shoulder to check on me.

I let out a long, ragged exhale.

The air rushed out of my lungs in a desperate burst, and I suddenly realized I had been holding my breath the entire time his hands were framing my waist.

I slid my body off the smooth timber, my leather boots hitting the stone floor with a dull thud.

My legs felt slightly shaky as I took two steps toward the exit, but then I stopped dead in my tracks.

I turned my head around to look back at the room.

The white papers. The total disaster I had willfully created just to push his buttons.

The dozens of important pack documents were still scattered miserably across the stone floor and the woven rug.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I walked back over to the corner.

I bent down, my fingers quickly gathering the loose sheets from the floor, and dropped the messy stack right back onto the center of the wooden desk.

I didn’t bother to arrange them neatly, and I didn’t try to sort them by date.

They were still a jumbled, chaotic pile of text, but at the very least, I had picked them up off the ground.

That was more than enough effort for one day.

Without wasting another second, I turned around, opened the door, and left the quiet study behind.

I walked with quick, purposeful strides down the long stone hallway, heading straight toward Genevieve’s private living quarters on the lower floor of the pack house.

I stopped in front of her dark wooden door and knocked firmly against the wood.

There was no answer from inside.

I waited a few seconds, my anxiety bubbling up, before I raised my fist and knocked a second time, much louder than before.

This time, a lock turned with a sharp click, and the heavy door swung open.

Alpha Arthur stood directly in the doorway, blocking the entrance with his towering, muscular frame.

His thick black and gray hair was slightly disheveled, falling wildly across his forehead, and his sharp jaw was set into a tight, incredibly hard line.

He glared down at me with the annoyance of a man who had just been violently interrupted in his own private sanctuary.

"What is it now, girl?" he asked, his deep voice completely flat and dripping with frustration.

I instinctively reached up and scratched the back of my neck, forcing my gaze down to the tips of my boots.

Standing in front of the legendary Alpha looking like a total nuisance made me feel like a little child who had just been caught doing something incredibly wrong.

"I am sorry to bother you," I said quietly, my voice soft.

"But I really need to speak with Luna Genevieve. It is very important."

Arthur let out a harsh, mocking scoff, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

"Seriously? You people have already succeeded in taking my mate away from me for weeks on end."

"Even after forcing us apart for all this time during your little journey, you cannot even let me have one single peaceful moment alone with my wife?"

I kept my eyes pinned to the floor, refusing to look up as a fierce, burning wave of heat rushed into my cheeks out of pure embarrassment.

Arthur let out a long, heavy exhale, his broad chest rising and falling against his shirt.

"Ten minutes," he stated firmly, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.

"The very second those ten minutes are over, you will get up and leave this room."

"And you will leave me completely alone with my mate for the rest of the night."

I snapped my chin up, a sudden, bright smile of pure gratitude breaking across my face.

"Thank you," I said, nodding my head eagerly.

"Thank you so much, Alpha Arthur."

He didn’t bother to give me a reply.

He simply brushed past my shoulder with a grunt, walking down the quiet corridor to give us space.

I quickly stepped inside the warm room and closed the heavy oak door firmly behind my back.

Genevieve was sitting quietly on a low wooden stool right in front of her vanity mirror.

She was wrapped in a soft, thick robe, her long brown hair completely loose and falling in wavy layers around her shoulders.

Her hand was moving in a slow, methodical rhythm as she pulled a wooden comb through the long strands.

She didn’t turn her body around to look at me when the door closed.

"You managed to send my husband away quite easily," she said, her tone completely dry, though a tiny hint of amusement colored her words.

I walked closer across the room, my boots silent on the plush rug.

"I am sorry about that," I said, adjusting the strap of my dress.

"I just desperately needed to discuss some very confusing things with you."

I reached out, pulled another low stool close to her vanity, and sat down right beside her.

Leaning my body forward, I rested my elbows flat against my knees, staring up at her profile with an urgent look.

"I have so many massive questions I want to ask you," I confessed, my heart rate speeding up.

"To be honest, my mind is spinning so fast I don’t even know where to start."

Genevieve stopped her hand, setting the wooden comb down on the table surface.

She turned her head slightly, looking at me through the reflection of the glass mirror, her wise eyes studying my frantic expression with a gentle focus.

"Just start anywhere, child," she said softly.

Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, I opened my mouth and told her everything.

I explained the terrifying way my mind had frozen in the dragon castle, and how the nine strange, glowing words had suddenly flashed behind my eyes like fire.

I told her about the warm sensation pulsing in my chest, and how my inner wolf was trying to wake up but felt stuck behind an invisible wall.

She sat perfectly still, listening to every single detail of my story without interrupting me even once.

When I finally finished speaking, she shifted her weight on the wooden stool, turning her entire body around to face me fully.

"I remember telling you once before that your journal had something deeply personal to do with your destiny," she said, her voice steady and sure.

"And from everything you have just explained to me... I believe my intuition was completely right."

She paused, reaching out to gently pat my knee with her warm palm.

"The very last time I attempted to open that old text, the magic completely locked me out," she explained in an even softer voice.

"The book refused to open its pages for me. Which means it was specifically created for you, Azura."

"And if there is anything in this world that possesses the strength to unlock your inner wolf and free her from whatever dark place she is trapped inside... it is that exact book."

I pulled my brows together, processing her words as the heavy weight of realization hit me.

"So... you are trying to say that if I want to free my wolf, I am going to have to use the nine words?" I asked, leaning my torso closer to her stool.

Genevieve gave me a firm, slow nod of her head.

"Yes. But you must understand that those nine words alone do not hold the power to completely free her. They are not the final spell."

"They are simply clues, keys connected directly to the spiritual locks that are holding her down in the dark."

"You need to find the right spell, Azura. You must find the complete, unbroken words."

"Only when you speak that phrase will she finally be set free."

I stared blankly at her, a look of total confusion washing over my features.

"But what sentence am I even supposed to look for?" I asked, my voice rising slightly in frustration.

"Nothing in my head is giving me a hint. It doesn’t make a single bit of sense to me."

Genevieve let out a soft, beautiful chuckle, a fond look entering her eyes.

"But if you sit back and truly think about it, nothing about your entire life has ever made conventional sense, has it?"

"You are a walking mystery. So, the fact that this puzzle doesn’t make sense right now simply means you are on the right track."

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a serious whisper.

"You just need to look much deeper than the surface, Azura."

I went entirely quiet for a long moment, my eyes tracking the patterns on the floor rug as my mind worked through the puzzle.

I wondered what my next step should be, and then, a sudden memory from my old visions flashed in my mind.

I decided that if I ever wanted to understand the bizarre things I had witnessed in those deep dreams, this was the best time for me to ask the one person who knew the truth.

"I didn’t mention this to you before," I started slowly, my voice dropping into a careful tone.

"But while I was trapped in my dreams... I saw a vision of your past. I saw that you actually had two sons."

Genevieve went completely frozen.

The wooden comb she had been reaching for slipped right from her numb fingers, clattering loudly against the vanity table.

Her slender hand remained suspended in the empty air for a long, agonizing second, completely paralyzed.

Slowly, she dropped her hand back into her lap, staring hard down at her own palm, but she completely refused to look up to meet my eyes.

"The last time I remember us talking about the family," I continued with extreme care, my voice softening as I saw her reaction, "Rhydor made a brief mention of his brother. I actually didn’t realize..."

I cut myself off mid-sentence.

The words completely caught in my dry throat, the sheer weight of her silent grief making it impossible for me to finish.

"He went missing," Genevieve whispered, her voice incredibly quiet in the large room.

She pressed her pale lips together into a tight, hard line, trying to stop them from trembling.

"We searched every corner of the lands," she added, her words barely audible as she stared at her lap.

"We could not find a single trace of him anywhere. So... the rest of the pack simply assumed that my baby was dead."

I pulled my brows together in a deep frown.

"You mean... the younger one?"

Genevieve gave a sharp, silent nod of her head before I could even finish pronouncing the name.

"I am so incredibly sorry," I murmured, reaching out to gently touch the edge of her robe.

"I truly didn’t know the full story. I shouldn’t have brought it up."

Genevieve quickly shook her head from side to side, forcing her chin up.

"It is entirely nothing," she said, her voice turning firmer as she tried to swallow down the emotion.

But despite her tough words, I could see the raw pain written all over her body.

I saw the sudden, rigid way her shoulders had tightened up like iron bars, and I heard the unmistakable waver of sorrow trembling deep within her voice.

She was fighting with every single ounce of her strength just to hold herself together in front of me.

"I believe with all of my heart that he is still out there somewhere in the shadows," she stated, her eyes flashing with a fierce, stubborn light.

"I am going to find my baby boy. So please, Azura... do not ever speak of him as if he is already dead. Because he is not."

I gave her a firm, respectful nod.

"I would never wish that upon your family, Luna. I would never wish him dead."

An awkward, suffocating silence stretched out between the two of us, the heavy mood in the room becoming thick enough to cut with a knife.

I shifted uncomfortably on my wooden stool, frantically searching my brain for a way to change the topic after noticing how deeply my questions had upset her.

"I know you might think I am asking far too many questions today," I said quietly, breaking the heavy silence as I watched her smooth down her clothes.

"But this last one... it’s about Isadora."

Genevieve turned her upper body back toward the vanity mirror, staring hard at her own reflection in the polished glass.

She reached up with her fingers, touching her long brown hair and smoothing the strands down with an incredibly slow, deliberate movement.

Her fingers wove through the hair over and over again, but she completely avoided looking at my face.

"That is not her," her voice dropped into a soft, chillingly flat whisper.

I went completely still on my stool, my breath catching in my throat as a sudden chill raced down my spine.

"The woman currently walking around the halls of this pack house," Genevieve continued, her steady eyes staring directly at her own reflection in the glass, "the girl calling herself Isadora... She is not Isadora. She never was."