Seraphine’s True Intentions
The icy cavern was alive with the artifact’s ominous energy, its crimson glow casting shifting patterns across the frozen walls. The whispers filled the air, relentless and haunting, like the prelude to a storm. Seraphine stood at the cavern’s center, the artifact’s pulsing light illuminating her silver eyes, which burned with both determination and something darker.
“We’ve come so far,” Seraphine began, her voice soft yet commanding. “But there’s one final step before we can claim what’s ours.”
Eryon took a step forward, his wolf bristling with anticipation, his amber eyes locked on Seraphine. “What’s next?” he asked, his voice low and taut.
Seraphine turned her gaze to the artifact cradled in her hands. Its energy swirled violently, as though it hungered for the culmination of their journey. “The Vampire King is only part of the problem,” she said, her tone measured. “The real threat is Isla and Draven. They’ll never stop hunting you, never stop trying to pull you back into their grasp.”
Lyra stiffened, her silver eyes narrowing. Doubt flickered across her face as she said quietly, “They’re not like the King. They’ve done nothing to hurt us.”
Seraphine’s demeanor shifted instantly, her tone sharp and cutting. “They’ve done everything to hurt you,” she snapped. “They took you from me, Lyra. They stole years of your lives and made you believe you belonged to them.”
Eryon growled low in his throat, his fists clenching as his wolf stirred restlessly. The anger burning in his amber eyes was barely contained. “We can’t let them win,” he said, his voice a growl.
Seraphine stepped closer to him, her expression softening, her voice laced with gentle persuasion. “Exactly. That’s why we must act first. The artifact holds the power to destroy them all—the King, Isla, Draven. No one will stand in our way.”
The artifact pulsed in Lyra’s hands, its whispers growing louder, its energy feeding on her inner turmoil. The weight of Seraphine’s words pressed against her, the voice of the artifact blending with her own fears. “And then what?” Lyra asked, her voice trembling. “What happens after?”
Seraphine’s gaze softened, her hand brushing Lyra’s shoulder. “Freedom,” she said firmly, her tone resonating with conviction. “You’ll finally be free to live as you were meant to—strong, unstoppable, untouchable.”
Eryon’s jaw tightened, and he nodded, his resolve solidifying. “I’m ready,” he said, his voice steady.
Lyra, however, hesitated. Her silver eyes searched Seraphine’s face, doubt swirling within her. She thought of Isla and Draven—of their moments of care, their promises of safety. She remembered her own instinctual mistrust of Seraphine’s relentless insistence. But the artifact’s whispers drowned those thoughts, its voice rising into a relentless chant.
“Destroy them all,” it commanded.
Seraphine smiled faintly, her hand steady on Lyra’s shoulder. “You’re stronger than you think,” she said softly, her tone almost maternal. “Trust me, Lyra. This is the only way.”
Lyra’s grip on the artifact tightened as its power surged, the crimson glow bathing her in its light. The cavern trembled slightly, the artifact’s energy pressing outward like an unleashed tide.
For a moment, Lyra wavered, torn between the promise of freedom and the fear of losing herself entirely. But the artifact pulsed again, its whispers drowning out everything else, and Lyra’s silver eyes flickered with the crimson light of the artifact’s power.
“Destroy them all.”
