Alliance
Seraphine’s voice softened, weaving through the quiet like a melody laced with steel. “You’ve endured so much,” she began, stepping closer to them. Her hands brushed gently over their shoulders, a gesture of comfort and reassurance. “But every trial has made you stronger. Yet strength alone is meaningless without purpose. And it’s time you knew yours.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. She knelt before them, taking their hands in her own. Lyra’s fingers twitched under her touch, her instincts prickling with unease, while Eryon’s grip tightened slightly, his amber eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and trust.
Seraphine’s voice trembled slightly as she continued, weaving a story that felt both intimate and calculated. “Isla and Draven didn’t just abandon me,” she said, her tone dipping into a raw, emotional cadence. “They stole you from me. My own sister and her mate—they tore you from my arms and forced me to endure years of agony alone.”
Lyra’s brows furrowed, her wolf stirring with a caution she couldn’t ignore. “Why would they do that?” she asked, her voice cautious but steady.
Seraphine’s gaze darkened, the warmth in her expression replaced by a bitter smile. “Because they were jealous,” she said, her tone sharp. “Of my strength, of my ability to lead. They wanted you for themselves, to weaken me and destroy what was rightfully ours.”
Her voice broke momentarily, but she quickly composed herself, stroking Eryon’s hair as though to ground her emotions. “But I’m here now,” she said firmly, her silver eyes burning with conviction. “I’ll never let them hurt you again.”
Eryon’s jaw tightened, visibly moved by the weight of her words. He placed his hand over hers, his amber eyes flashing with resolve. “We’ll stand by you,” he said, his voice steady.
Seraphine smiled, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed genuine—until the glint of triumph in her eyes betrayed her. She rose gracefully, her attention shifting to the artifact resting on the table. The faint glow of the crystal seemed to cast her features in an ethereal light, making her appear otherworldly, almost untouchable.
“There’s someone who can help us,” she said, her tone cooling into something more commanding.
Lyra and Eryon exchanged wary glances, the unspoken question heavy in the room. Finally, Lyra broke the silence. “Who?” she asked, her voice tinged with skepticism.
Seraphine’s hand grazed the artifact, her fingers tracing its jagged edges as her expression hardened. Her silver eyes grew colder, the warmth drained entirely. “Your grandmother,” she said simply, her voice carrying a finality that sent a chill through the chamber.
The twins stared at her in stunned silence.
“Our grandmother?” Lyra repeated, her voice incredulous. “She’s alive?”
Seraphine turned to face them fully, her gaze piercing. “Alive—and far more powerful than you can imagine.”
Eryon leaned forward, his wolf growling faintly beneath his skin. “And you trust her?” he asked, his tone cautious.
Seraphine’s lips curled into a faint smile, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I trust that she values the bloodline,” she said. “And she’ll do whatever it takes to preserve it.”
The chamber fell silent again, the twins exchanging another uneasy glance. The faint glow of the artifact pulsed between them, a silent reminder of the power at stake and the dangerous road ahead. Whatever Seraphine’s plan entailed, one thing was certain: this revelation was only the beginning.
