Chapter 169

Chapter 169: Chapter 169

The messenger arrived at dusk.

He was a thin, nervous man with shifty eyes and trembling hands. The guards searched him thoroughly before allowing him into the palace, confiscating a small dagger and a vial of suspicious liquid. He claimed to be a simple courier, but his eyes kept darting around the throne room as if he expected to be executed on the spot.

He probably did.

King Aldric sat on his throne, flanked by his advisors. Soren stood to his right, his golden eyes fixed on the messenger with barely concealed fury. The Queen was absent, she had not left Freya’s side in days.

"Speak," the King commanded.

The messenger bowed low. "Your Majesty, I bring a message from Lord Varek Astrlyn."

A ripple of anger passed through the throne room. The advisors exchanged dark looks. Soren’s hands curled into fists.

"I’m listening," the King said, his voice cold.

The messenger reached into his tunic and produced a sealed letter. A guard took it and handed it to the King. Aldric broke the seal and read silently, his expression growing darker with each passing line.

When he finished, he handed the letter to Soren without a word.

Soren read it. His blood ran cold.

To King Aldric Thornridge,

I have in my possession the antidote to the poison that is killing your daughter. It is the only antidote in existence, the Dark Coven’s secrets died with them, and Morgath is the last living practitioner. Without it, your daughter will die within days. Perhaps hours.

I am willing to exchange the antidote for your throne. Abdicate. Surrender the crown to me. Declare me the rightful ruler of the Seven Packs. Do this, and your daughter lives. Refuse, and she dies.

You have until dawn to decide.

—Lord Varek Astrlyn

Soren crushed the letter in his fist.

"That bastard," he snarled. "He’s been planning this from the beginning. He took Freya just so he could—"

"Soren." The King’s voice was sharp. "Calm yourself."

"Calm myself? He’s holding my sister’s life hostage! He’s asking you to surrender the throne!"

"I am aware of what he’s asking." The King’s voice was heavy. "The question is—what do we do?"

The advisors erupted into debate.

"We cannot surrender the throne! It would mean the end of the Thornridge line!"

"But the princess—we cannot let her die!"

"Varek will not keep his word. He will kill her anyway, and then he will kill us all!"

"We have no choice! The antidote is the only way to save her!"

The arguments continued, growing louder and more heated. Soren listened, his jaw tight, his mind racing. He knew what they were saying he understood the logic, the politics, the impossibility of the situation.

But he didn’t care about any of that. All he cared about was his sister.

I have to save her. Whatever it takes.

That night, Soren dreamed again.

He stood in the same vast darkness the same empty void that had no beginning and no end. And there, as before, was the light. The Moon Goddess.

"Lycan prince," she said, her voice like moonlight on water.

"I know why you’re here," Soren said. "You’re here to collect my answer."

"I am."

"Two days. That’s what you said. Two days left."

"Two days." The goddess paused. "But your sister has less than that. She has hours. Perhaps a day, at most."

Soren’s heart clenched. "I know."

"And yet you have not agreed to my terms. You have not agreed to the sacrifice."

"I’ve been thinking." Soren met her eyes. "You want my life for Nyra’s. A soul for a soul. But what about Freya? If I die, she dies too. Varek will never give her the antidote, he’ll let her die just to punish my family."

The goddess was silent.

"So I’m making a bargain," Soren continued. "I’ll give you my life. I’ll make the sacrifice. But in return, you save Freya. You cure her. You let her live."

"That is not how this works."

"Then make it work." Soren’s voice was fierce. "You’re the Moon Goddess. You can do anything. Save my sister, and I’ll give you anything you want. My life. My soul. Whatever it takes."

The goddess studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.

"Very well. I will save your sister. I will cure her of the poison. And in return, you will give your life for Nyra’s. When the ritual is performed, you will die, and she will live."

Soren closed his eyes. The tears came, hot and silent.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You love her that much? Both of them?"

"They’re my family. I would do anything for them."

The goddess was silent for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer.

"Rest assured, Lycan prince. Your sister will live. I will make sure of it."

The dream faded. Soren woke with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat, his heart pounding.

Two days, he thought. Two days, and I’ll be dead.

He looked at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he rose and dressed. There was work to be done.

Selene was in her suite, frantically cleaning.

She had been at it for hours burning letters, destroying evidence, erasing any trace of her involvement with Finn and Varek. She had been careful, of course she had always been careful. But now, with the investigation closing in and Soren growing more suspicious by the day, she couldn’t afford to take any chances at least there’s something keeping him preoccupied cur.

She burned the last letter—a note from Finn detailing their plan to kidnap Freya—and watched the ashes drift up the chimney.

There, she thought. No evidence. No proof. Nothing that can tie me to any of it.

She smiled. It was a cold, calculating expression.

Soren will never find out. And once Freya dies—

She stopped. A flicker of something guilt, perhaps, or doubt crossed her face. But she pushed it aside.

It’s for the best, she told herself. The princess was always going to die. But does she really deserve to die, she didn’t offend me, she might not exactly like me but she didn’t say anything to my face. But I will at least survive and be cleared of any suspicions.

She turned away from the fireplace and began planning her next move.

Soren found Corvin in the training grounds, alone.

The Alchemist was practicing his forms—his movements precise, his expression focused. But there was a tension in his shoulders, a tightness in his jaw. He had been working nonstop since Freya was taken, searching for a cure, searching for answers.

He looked up when Soren approached. "What’s wrong?"

"I need to talk to you. Privately."

They moved to a quiet corner of the grounds, away from prying eyes. Soren took a deep breath.

"I know who the traitor is."

Corvin’s eyes widened. "Who?"

"Finn."

Corvin stared at him. "Finn? Are you sure?"

"I’m sure. I’ve been watching him for weeks. He’s been meeting with Elias in secret. He’s been feeding information to Varek. And I think—" He paused. "I think he’s the one who helped orchestrate Freya’s kidnapping."

Corvin was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"It makes sense. He’s been acting strange for weeks. Jasper noticed it too."

"I need you to meet with Valeria. She’s been gathering information on Finn and Selene. She knows more than she’s told me. Work with her. Find out everything you can."

"And Ragnar?"

Soren’s jaw tightened. "Don’t tell him. Not yet. He’s in love with Finn. If he finds out—"

"He might do something rash."

"Exactly. We need to be smart about this. We need to gather evidence before we confront him."

Corvin nodded. "I’ll talk to Valeria tonight."

"Good." Soren turned to leave, then paused. "And Corvin? Whatever happens—whatever you find out, don’t confront Finn on your own. He’s dangerous. He’s been playing this game longer than any of us."

"I understand."

Soren nodded and walked away. He didn’t tell Corvin about the Moon Goddess. He didn’t tell him about the sacrifice. He didn’t tell anyone.

I’ll keep it a secret, he thought. Until it actually happens.

That night, Soren prepared.

He didn’t know exactly what the ritual would entail the goddess hadn’t told him. But he knew it would happen soon. Two days. That was all the time he had left.

He wrote letters. One to his mother. One to his father. One to Freya. He told them he loved them. He told them not to grieve. He told them he was doing this for them.

He didn’t write a letter to Nyra. He didn’t know what to say.

I’m doing this for you, he thought. I’m dying so you can live. I hope you can forgive me.

He sealed the letters and placed them on his desk. Then he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Two days, he thought. Two days, and this will all be over.

He closed his eyes.