Page 53 of Alpha Charmed

“Wolf.” Her voice resonates in my bones, in the stone beneath my feet, in the hum of awareness that connects me to Anouk at my side. “Witch. You come seeking truth.”

Anouk steps forward without releasing my hand. Her voice doesn’t waver. “We come seeking memory. Of what was. Before the Severing.”

“Ah.” The sound is almost a laugh—amused, approving, touched with ancient grief. “Finally. I’ve been waiting centuries for someone to ask.”

She shifts, scales scraping against stone as she settles into a more comfortable position. The movement reminds me, absurdly, of Grandmother Sylvana arranging herself before a long story. Dragons and wolf elders apparently share certain mannerisms.

“What do you wish to know?”

“Everything.” Anouk’s grip tightens on my fingers. “The truth about the Severing. Why it happened. How to undo it.”

“Everything is a great deal.” Chione’s eyes gleam with what might be approval. “But you’ve earned it, you two. The magic that ignited between you—I felt it echo across the mountains. The old power, returning at last.”

“Returning from where?”

“From suppression. From deliberate destruction.” The dragon’s voice deepens, carrying weight that presses against my ears. “The Severing was not a natural event, little wolf. Not a magical accident or an evolution of power. It was a ritual. Performed by those who feared what claimed pairs could become.”

The words land like blows. I feel Anouk stiffen beside me, processing implications that rewrite everything she’s been taught.

“A ritual,” she repeats.

“Performed by a faction of witches and shifters who believed the pairings had grown too powerful. Too independent. Too difficult to control.” Chione’s tail curls around her massive body, settling into storytelling position. “In the time before, claimed couples were common. Celebrated. Their unions strengthened the magical protections around every community—what you now call Warding Lines were fed by their partnerships.”

“The Warding Lines.” I think of the shimmer at the edge of Mistvale, the way it’s grown stronger in the areas near Leire and Aslan’s territory. Near Sakura and Torin’s. “They’re weakening because there aren’t enough pairs to sustain them.”

“Exactly so.” Chione dips her massive head in acknowledgment.

The number echoes in my mind. “Grandmother Peach mentioned thirteen might be needed to undo it.”

“Balance requires balance.” The dragon’s voice carries ancient certainty. “Thirteen pairs performed the original ritual. Thirteen pairs may be needed to break it—or perhaps fewer, if those pairs are strong enough. The magic doesn’t care about symmetry. It cares about intention.”

“How do we break it?” Anouk’s voice is sharp with urgency. “If it was performed as a ritual, there must be a way to reverse it.”

“There is. But you cannot break it from here.” Chione’s eyes fix on both of us, ancient and knowing. “The Severing was cast at a specific location—a nexus of old power where the boundaries between witch magic and shifter instinct were thinnest. The spell must be undone where it was cast.”

“Where?”

“Beneath what you now call the Familiar Registry.”

Anouk’s breath catches. “Grandmother Peach. She’s been guarding it.”

“The matchmaker, yes. She is older than she appears—older than your coven, older than most magical settlements on this continent. Her role has always been to guard that site. To wait. And to guide when the time was right.”

“Is the time right now?”

“That is not for me to say.” Chione’s voice softens, carrying what might be kindness. “But pairings are forming in your town despite centuries of suppression. The old bonds are reasserting themselves.”

“Leire and Aslan.” I murmur the names like a prayer. “Sakura and Torin.”

“And now you two.” The dragon’s smile is terrifying and beautiful in equal measure. “Three pairs in so short a time. The old power is remembering what it was, finding its way back through those willing to accept it.”

“The Preservers feel this.” Anouk’s voice has gone cold with understanding. “That’s why Cordelia is so desperate. She knows the work of centuries is being undone.”

“They will fight to prevent its completion.” Chione’s tail twitches. “Your Elder Mathilda was one of the few who started to remember. The Severing’s weakening allowed old memories to surface in those descended from witnesses. She was killed before she could share what she knew.”

“We suspected.”

“Now you know.” The dragon’s eyes hold ancient grief. “And knowing, you must decide what to do.”