Page 117 of Haunted Crowns
Raphael went still, said nothing. He only closed his eyes and exhaled. He accepted the sentence.
Stephan turned and walked out.
“The Heart of the Hollow—
where the dead remember, and fate wanders unshaped and watching.”
—Ancient Lycan Whisper
Chapter 24
Stephan tore from the chamber, breath ragged as wind howled through the halls. At the stable, he snatched a cloak and wrapped it around Eris gently, as if she might break. He mounted with her in his arms, and at his command, the horse lunged into the night.
His cloak snapped behind him like a war banner. The cold bit deep, but he felt only her—Eris, unbowed by fate, by gods, by the man who had tried to shatter her. She would live. They would be together. Always.
The vow burned through him as he gripped the reins, fury sharpened to a blade. Let the gods tremble. He would burn the world before they took her.
The Dragov woods flew past in blurs of dark trunks and spirals of snow. The storm had not ceased since she faded, as if the land itself mourned her. Then, just beyond the next bend, something moved in the trees. A flicker of motion broke through the silence. They were not alone.
The trees parted to reveal a clearing. Kareon stood at its center. Taric and Varis flanked him, silent and still. Their arms were crossed, backs straight, judgment carved into every line oftheir posture. Stephan’s horse reared at the charged stillness. He yanked the reins and steadied it.
Silence stretched between them as he and Kareon stared across the space, like two storms on the edge of breaking. Stephan dismounted, keeping Eris close. Kareon’s gaze dropped to her still form. His breath hitched, sharp and sudden, like wind splitting across a frozen sea.
Stephan caught it—the fracture. For a heartbeat, Kareon’s rage vanished. In its place was something raw and wordless. Grief, stripped of armor. Then it was gone.
“Follow me.”
Stephan froze. The stillness was too precise, too prepared. They had known. But how? He said nothing and followed.
The den rose ahead, fires licking the night. Kareon moved forward, each step taut with fury. At the threshold, he lifted a hand. Taric and Varis halted without question. A flick of his fingers dismissed them. They turned toward Stephan. Their eyes still burned with fury and judgment. A sentence already passed.
Stephan did not argue, because he agreed. She should not be in his arms like this.
Then they vanished into the dark.
Behind them, laughter and drums rang out in celebration. The pack rejoiced in her ascension and her reign, unaware. Kareon exhaled, shoulders braced with rage. He half-turned but did not look, because if he did, he might tear Stephan apart.
“This way,” he said, voice clipped. Then, softer, with a jagged edge: “I won’t let them see her like this.”
Stephan held her tighter. He looked to the fire, to the dancers and the feast. They loved her more than he had realized. If they saw her like this, they would burn Dragov to ash, and him with it.
He said nothing and followed Kareon into the dark, past tents that pulsed like ghosts of the world she had built. They stopped at the largest one—Kaelioth’s. The Elder Shaman. The one whomight undo this nightmare. Kareon held the flap open, still refusing to meet Stephan’s gaze.
Stephan stepped inside. Kareon followed, his fury pressing at Stephan’s throat like a blade. The air was thick with old magic: smoke, herbs, and something unnameable. It clung, heavy and watchful, to Stephan’s skin.
Kaelioth sat cross-legged before a single flame. Its flicker cast long shadows across his weathered face. Above him, talismans swayed and whispered in a tongue meant for the dead. Kaelioth looked up, slowly, as if listening to something unseen. Then he nodded, and his amber-flecked eyes found Stephan’s.
A flicker of amusement touched Kaelioth’s lips. “Oh yes… He is very handsome indeed, my dear.”
Stephan stilled. His grip on Eris tightened. No one else was in the tent. And still, Kaelioth had answered someone.
Kareon exhaled, sharp and bitter. “Spare us the riddles, shaman, and bring her back,” he growled.
It burned to see her in Stephan’s arms, because to him, the prince was unworthy. Kaelioth’s comment about Stephan’s beauty scraped like salt in a wound.
Kaelioth gestured to the furs. “Lay her down.”
Stephan obeyed, placing her gently, like carving a vow into flesh. Kareon looked away. He hated how Stephan held her, as if she belonged only to him.
