Page 32 of Haunted Crowns
Stephan gasped, snapping back into the present. His heartbeat thundered. The vision had faded, but its echo remained, not a glimpse of the past, but of what could still come.
Whose head had fallen? Whose crown had disappeared into the dark? Was this a moment fated for him…or one he was meant to stop?
The blood on the page had not dried. There was no time left to waste.
The doors groaned as Stephan pushed them open, cold air curling into the corridor. But it wasn’t the chill that made himstop. It was the memory of her, of the moment she’d walked away, her spirit broken, because he had not believed her.
She had offered him everything: her truth, her heart. And he had let it fall at her feet. She had chosen a path that would devour her, not for glory or power, but for him. And when she needed him most, he had turned away, leaving her beneath the crushing weight of destiny.
His breath faltered, pulse pounding in his ears. He had to find her, to apologize, to kneel if it meant returning every broken piece before the storm swallowed her whole. A war was coming, but the first battle was hers. To prove he was still the man she once believed in.
This is where it changes,he thought. Where I break the pattern. Protect her instead of betray her. Become the Dragov Seraphina never got to see. Because if I fail, she dies again. And I die with her.
Not this time. Not again. Never again.
“What is chosen by the spirits cannot be unchosen.”
—Lycan oral tradition
Chapter 7
The forge pulsed with life: the scrape of metal on stone, the sharp scent of steel, the heat curling thick in the air. Flames roared, casting Kareon in flickering gold, sweat tracing the hard lines of his bare shoulders as he worked.
A strip of cloth clung to his upper arm, black and green, the colors of the Lycan rebellion. It was not an accessory. It was a declaration.
Eris hesitated at the threshold. It wasn’t just the sight of him—the sheer strength, the precision of every movement. It was what he was: a warrior carved from fire and defiance. A leader who didn’t dream of freedom; he bled for it. She had spent her life locked in a cage of gold, told she was too much, too wild. Yet here he was, proving wildness was not weakness. It was power.
Taric and Varis had told her he was here, and she had come seeking him with purpose. But now, seeing him bare-chested, working with a focus that felt deeper than battle, she faltered. This was not how she usually saw him.
Kareon lifted his head, sniffing the air. He didn’t turn immediately. “Look who’s back.” He dragged the file down the blade one last time, slow and deliberate. Then, finally, he glanced over his shoulder, a smirk curling at the edges. “Didn’t take long to miss the taste of freedom.”
Eris felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips, fleeting, there for a breath, then gone. He always had a way of cutting straight to the truth, stripping things bare. Normally, she would have met his sarcasm with something sharp, but the words didn’t come.
She swallowed, searching for her usual quickness. All she managed was a quiet, “Kareon, I need to talk to you.”
His smirk faded, but his gaze sharpened as he set the blade down, fingers tightening slightly before letting go. He studied her, the teasing replaced by something quieter, more measured. Without a word, he motioned for her to follow.
They walked a short distance to a quiet alcove, where the forge’s noise softened. As they stopped, silence stretched between them.
Eris turned toward the horizon, watching the sun dip lower. Its warmth did nothing to ease the cold tightening in her chest. She exhaled slowly. Then, barely above a whisper, she spoke.
“Stephan won’t stand with me.”
Kareon’s shoulders tensed. “What do you mean?” His voice was sharper now.
“I think he might report me,” she forced out, throat tightening, “to the kings.”
Kareon inhaled sharply.
She made herself keep speaking, though every word pressed against an open wound.
“If they find out, they might pull me from the Summit. They might keep me at home. I don’t know. I just—” She swallowed. “If they do, they’ll cut me off. From everything. From—”
From everything I was meant to change.
She could not bring herself to finish the sentence. She could not bear the thought of not being able to bring peace. That everything Seraphina fought for might die with her.
Kareon didn’t speak at first. His expression darkened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The weight of his silence wasalmost worse than anger. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and controlled. “You really think they will lock you away?”
