The moonlight sliced through the grand glass windows of the royal court, drenching the marbled floors in silver hues. Yet for Princess Amara, seated on the velvet throne her father once ruled from, the coldness in her chest made the beauty of the moment meaningless.
She wasn't wearing a crown tonight—just a crimson robe draped over her nightgown, her golden hair falling freely, unbrushed, tangled by worry. Her thoughts were a battlefield—flashes of Lucien's wounded voice echoing in her mind.
> "You don't trust me, do you?"
The question had burned more than any accusation. Because it was true. She hadn't trusted him—not fully. Not even when his actions begged her to.
And now… he was gone.
He had disappeared into the night with no word, no goodbye. The rebellion still simmered beneath the surface. And Amara was now forced to play queen to a kingdom on the brink of collapse.
In the Halls of Shadows
At the same time, in the farthest wing of the palace—hidden beyond secret corridors only known by blood—a woman in a dark cloak moved silently. Her face was veiled, but her presence commanded the very air.
She paused before a sealed door bearing the symbol of the Sun and Fang—the ancient emblem of the First Bloodline.
A whisper left her lips.
> "Unlock the sins of our past."
With a shudder, the door clicked open.
Inside was an ancient chamber filled with forbidden scrolls, enchanted mirrors, and the skeletal remains of beasts not seen for centuries.
She walked to a glowing orb and whispered, "Reveal her."
The orb flickered, then lit up with the image of Amara sitting alone on the throne.
> "She's awakening," the veiled woman murmured. "And she doesn't even know it yet."
Lucien's Path
Far from the palace, in a ruined temple hidden deep in the Forest of the Silent Howl, Lucien knelt beneath a waterfall.
He wasn't just running.
He was becoming.
The spirit of the ancient wolf god had entered his veins after the forbidden ritual in Chapter 13. His body ached. His senses were no longer human. He could hear the whisper of leaves from miles away. Smell the fear of men before they even arrived.
But his heart?
It was still Amara's.
> "I will return to you," he whispered to the rushing waters. "But not as a man. As your protector. Your equal. Your reckoning."
Amara's Trial
Back at the palace, a storm was brewing—both political and literal.
The Council had convened a secret meeting to discuss her dethronement.
Duke Ravelle, a powerful noble and enemy to her mother's bloodline, slammed his staff on the table.
> "She's reckless. She sides with rebels. And worst of all—she harbors a mage in her heart."
The others murmured.
Only Lady Veina, the mysterious older councilwoman with eyes like obsidian, defended her.
> "Perhaps... a storm is what this kingdom needs to wash away the rot."
Meanwhile, Amara was in the Grand Library, uncovering the book that had haunted her dreams for weeks.
A spellbook.
Bound in royal blood.
Marked by her family's crest.
Inside, she read the first words aloud:
> "To awaken the Light of the Forgotten Queen, one must first embrace the fire within."
Her fingertips burned—but she didn't stop.
Her powers were not a curse.
They were a legacy.
Battle Beneath the Vaults
Suddenly, screams echoed through the palace.
Rebels had breached the outer wall.
Amara didn't hesitate.
She raced through hidden corridors, her hands glowing with new fire—literal fire. Her magic had awakened with her emotion, and when she raised her hand, flames curled like serpents around her arms.
She found the intruders in the royal vault, attempting to steal the Crown of the Ancients.
> "That crown doesn't belong to thieves," she growled.
> "It doesn't belong to liars either," the rebel leader spat back. "You're no queen. You're just a pampered heiress playing dress-up!"
Her rage ignited.
She summoned a wall of fire, separating him from his men.
> "Then burn in your truth."
The flames surged.
She didn't kill him—but she let him crawl away, humiliated.
The vault was safe.
For now.
A Whisper Across the Wind
That night, as she stood on the tower once more, a wind brushed her cheek—warm, unlike the icy breeze of the mountains.
It carried a single phrase:
> "Soon, my flame."
Her heart skipped.
Lucien.
He was alive.
He was coming.
But she didn't know… so was something else.
Ending Hook
Deep beneath the palace, in the chamber the cloaked woman had opened, something began to awaken.
A crack split through the enchanted floor.
A claw reached through.
Then another.
Then... a whisper:
> "Let the real heir rise.