Chapter 10: The Heart of the Otherwild
Liora's heart was hammering. Not the cute, romantic thud-thud kind—more like it was trying to punch through her ribs and sprint for the hills. The man in front of her? Yeah, he didn't help. He looked like he'd walked straight out of a fever dream—tall, sharp-edged, eyes glowing silver like headlights on a moonless road. Even the grass seemed scared, quivering around his boots. If the land could scream, it probably would've.
She blurted, "You… you're like me." Which, okay, not her smoothest line, but what do you say to the ghost of your worst nightmares?
His mouth curled—half smile, half snarl. "No," he said, dragging out every syllable like he was savoring it. "I am you."
Wait. What? Liora took a step back, brain short-circuiting. "What does that mean?"
He held out his hand. Elegant fingers, cold as a winter grave. "You were born of me. The first, the true Shadowborn. Not some pale copy—a splinter." His tone went low and mean. "You think this—" he waved, bitter, "—this is your grand awakening? Please. It's your inheritance. The darkness, the curse, all of it—it's mine. Always has been."
She remembered the Seer's cryptic nonsense: Shadowborn heir, ashes, betrayal, blah blah blah. And Kael—Kael's curse, shattered by her own hand. Everything was a tangle.
"I don't understand," she muttered, mostly to herself.
He laughed, soft and deep. It echoed. Thunder in a bottle.
"Course you don't. But you will. Soon."
She balled her fist. Power sparked under her skin, itching to be let loose. "I don't care who you are. I'll stop you."
He grinned wider, like she'd just told the world's funniest joke. "You think you can fight me? After all these centuries, you still don't get it. The Shadowborn isn't some hero. She's destruction. Plain and simple."
Each word hit her like a slap. "You're my legacy, girl. You're the end. Full stop."
Liora's stomach twisted. The power inside her pulsed, hot and wild, like it wanted out. And underneath it—something else. A memory, maybe? Some little scrap of truth she couldn't quite grab.
"You're lying," she said. Or maybe she was just hoping.
He looked at her, eyes suddenly darker. "You think you've got control? Think you've won? This place—" he gestured, and the world seemed to lean in, "—this is where it all started. The truth's buried here, and when you dig it up, it'll wreck you."
She could feel her pulse in her throat. Nope. Not letting him get in her head. Not again.
"Who are you?" she snapped.
He closed his eyes, like he was soaking up the question. Then, "I'm everything you'll become. I'm the shadow in every Alpha's chest. The blood on the ground. I'm the heart behind every howl."
"No," Liora hissed. "You're nothing. I'm not you."
He tilted his head, amusement flickering. "You really don't get it. You're a mirror, Liora. My mirror."
The air between them crackled. Her vision blurred, knees threatening to fold. She forced herself upright.
"Stay away!" she shouted, voice rough and raw, but the guy was already moving closer, ground shaking under his boots.
"You can't run from this. It's in you. Sooner or later, it'll eat you alive. Already started, honestly."
He grabbed her arm—cold, iron grip. She tried to yank free, but it was like wrestling a glacier.
"Let go!" she yelled. He just smiled wider.
"I'm not even holding you. I'm letting you see," he whispered.
And then his other hand pressed to her chest.
For a second? Nothing. Then—
Something ripped open inside. Darkness poured in, thick and choking. Her lungs filled with it. The power inside twisted, old and wrong and hungry. Shadows hissed at the edges of her mind, whispering, scratching, daring her to just let go. Just give in.
She gasped, knees hitting the ground. The whole world spun, colors bleeding into black.
"See? You're mine, Liora. Always have been. I'll burn you down to nothing, and from your ashes? I'll walk free."
She looked up, blinking through the blur. Somewhere, deep in the mess, something solid clicked into place.
"No…" she croaked. "You're wrong. I get to choose."
He laughed. Ugly, empty sound. "Too late."
But Liora grabbed his wrist, grip iron. For the first time, his confidence flickered.
"No," she said again, steadier. "You never got to control me. Not then. Not now."
And in that moment, she almost believed it herself.
Honestly, the power inside her just—snapped. Not all dramatic and Hollywood, but raw, buzzing under her skin, smashing against the corners where the old shadows lurked. For the first damn time, she actually got it—her blood wasn't just about wreckage or torching the world. It meant she got to choose what she did with it.
She clenched her jaw so tight it hurt. "No," she thought, "not today." The darkness clawed at her mind, but she shoved it back, teeth bared. Not happening.
The guy—yeah, the one with the ego problem—just glared, pissed as hell. "You think you can stop me? You're just some kid messing with matches!"
Her pulse hammered, loud as a riot in her chest. Adrenaline, maybe, or just anger finally boiling over. She dug her fingers into his wrist. Suddenly, she saw it all: she wasn't some broken leftover, wasn't the piece that got lost in the shuffle. Nah, she was the one who'd put the whole damned puzzle back together.
He shrieked. Seriously, it was almost pathetic. She yanked his hand off her, and a jolt of energy blasted him across the room like a ragdoll.
"No more," she snapped, voice shaking with all the stuff she'd held back for years. "I'm not your heir. I'm not anyone's."
But—of course—right when she thought she'd won, the ground twitched under her boots. Not the guy this time. Something else. Something way more freaky.
The horizon went weird, kind of warping, and then this hulking figure stomped out of the Otherwild. Black armor, like obsidian, eating up the light.
Liora's breath just—stuck. No need for introductions. She'd heard the stories, every one of them a nightmare.
This was the real deal. The curse itself, walking.
The Dark Alpha.
And guess what? He was headed straight for her.