Page 118 of Haunted Crowns
Kaelioth studied her, fingers tapping a slow rhythm. “Tell me.”
Stephan’s jaw clenched. “They cast a spell to break her will. To force obedience. But she fought it.” He drew a breath. “And it shattered her.”
Silence settled, thick and heavy.
Kareon’s body coiled. “Of course she did.” Stephan looked up just in time to catch wildfire across Kareon’s face. “What did you expect? That she’d submit? That she’d let you—or any of your cursed, blood-drunk bastards—extinguish her fire?”
Stephan stepped forward, voice tight with fury and regret. “If I had gotten there sooner, none of this would have happened.”
The air cracked. They were two storms, one breath from breaking.
Kaelioth sighed. With a flick of his wrist, he silenced them both. “Enough.”
They obeyed, but the fury remained.
Kaelioth reached for her. The moment his fingers brushed her skin, Stephan froze. Kareon’s fists clenched.
Kaelioth lifted her wrist, held it for a moment, then let it fall. Dead weight. He tilted his head, then slowly pressed his thumbs to her eyelids and opened them. A flicker of recognition passed over his face. He nodded once, then murmured, far too calm: “Oh yes. I see.”
Stephan and Kareon leaned in, bracing.
Kaelioth looked up, firelight carving hollows into his face. “You will not like what I have to say.” Both men tensed. “The spell was meant to cage her. But she was never made to kneel. And that refusal is why she is trapped.”
The fire crackled below as charms rattled above like bones.
“Trapped?” Stephan rasped.
Kaelioth nodded.
“Between two worlds. The Seal broke her will, and now she has forgotten how to hold on.”
Kareon snapped. “What the hell are we waiting for? Call her back.”
Stephan did not flinch. He stepped forward and lowered himself beside her, sinking to one knee. There was no pride in the gesture. No performance. Only a man stripped bare. He took her hands and pressed them to his lips.
“Please, shaman. Save her.”
His voice came low and raw. It carried no weakness, only ruin. It was the voice of a man offering everything he had left. If fatedemanded blood, he would give his. If the gods required legacy, he would surrender it.
The fire shivered. Even Kareon held his breath. A Dragov heir kneeling before a Lycan shaman was something he had never imagined.
Kaelioth stepped forward and extended his hand. “Rise, Prince,” he said. “You have given enough.”
Stephan lifted his gaze. Firelight carved lines of shadow across his face, but his eyes remained steady. He rose slowly, grounded in silence and resolve.
Kaelioth turned toward the mouth of the den. “We go,” he said. “To the Heart of the Hollow.”
That was where the dead whispered, where fate walked without form.
Stephan inhaled and met Kareon’s gaze. The silence between them carried the weight of war and older blood.
Neither spoke. The fire danced between them, casting shadows that moved like beasts. Without breaking the stare, Stephan drew Eris closer. He would not let anyone else touch her.
Kareon’s lip curled as a low growl rose in his throat.
Stephan’s grip tightened in response.
Kaelioth stepped into the dark. The prince followed, carrying her. The alpha followed, burning.
