The sanke has always been hiding in the den. The traitor, the monster who orchestrated all of this. Baring my teeth, every muscle trembles with boiling rage as I realize all this could have been prevented. If only I didn’t have a traitor for a father.
He’s going to pay.
Every last one of those snakes will pay; those who destroyed so many lives.
But first, I need to save her, because it’s also her revenge to take, and I can’t do it alone.
66
Kai
A FAMILY MATTER
Reaching the Institute,I step into a warzone. The sky is dark with smoke and ash. Screams echo across the grounds as norous crawl over the stone walls, their long skeletal limbs skitter with unnatural speed. Varkuun crashes through defences. Battering rams, their roars drowning out the alarm bells. Harpies shriek from above, diving with talons aimed at exposed throats, dragging students into the sky before dropping them as broken dolls.
Spells flare in every direction. Shields and barriers are barely holding. The scent of essence mixes with blood and burning stone. Statues meant to guard the courtyard lay shattered with the rubble. But no one is retreating. The students fight, shoulder to shoulder, spells on their lips and weapons in their hands. Some are still dressed in gowns and suits, while others have had time to change into gear. But no matter who, they all fight with resilience. Since that cursed day, Kallahan has not slept. We all learned quickly that fate can shift without warning.
Ducking beneath a collapsed beam, claws drawn, I bolt over a shattered archway. My eyes sweep over the chaos, narrowing with urgency as I search for familiar faces. Quickly confirming the situation is contained, barely. I direct myself toward theback of the Institute. The support from overseas has definitely strengthened the defences, but this attack… This one is different. Smaller, yes, but calculated. Alek orchestrated this from the beginning. He had been tracking Avilyna long before these past days. He knew where she was, who she was. He’s probably been hunting her for years.
But why wait so long to make his move?
And how come he remembered her?
I take the path I once swore never to walk again. The one leading to my childhood prison. I must speak with the General. Crossing the forest, I leap and jump. Taking a shortcut, making it to the manor within minutes. The fortress rises through the smoke as a wounded beast made of stone. The aftermath of the battle lies scattered before me. Scorched earth, shattered glass, and bloodstained walls, but no immediate threat remains. An eerie calm clings to the air, broken only by distant echoes of the fight and the acrid stench of smoke and sulfur.
This place was built for us, lycans. Fortified to contain both beast and man. It should feel like home, but it stopped being one a long time ago. Slipping through the servants’ entrance, every muscle tense as my claws are still half-bared. I don’t know if enemies are lurking within or how far the attack has reached. Slowing my breathing, I stretch my senses and listen. No whispers of demonic presence. No unnatural scent. But also no thoughts from my kind…
Probablyshielding, and then, voices muffled, urgent. Coming from the war room. Some of the weight in my chest loosens, not much, but enough. Making my way to my old room, the place seems smaller than I remember, and that’s the only difference, because the same cold reigns. I shift, bones cracking and reforming as I take on my human form. There's no time to dwell. I pull on my old combat gear over the dried blood. The fabric istight, but it will do. I wipe most of the blood away from my face and walk out.
Barging into the war room,the air is already thick with tension. A knife flies toward me, the protective rune I etched onto my skin earlier in my room flares to life. Taking advantage of my safeguard, since it will disappear in twenty-four hours, I keep walking straight ahead. A second blast, fire this time, coming from one of the diplomats. It ricochets off my inked ward and scorches the velvet curtains lining the wall instead.
“Stand down! It’s Sergeant Brackwell,” Sergeant Sinclair commands, her exasperated voice cutting through the chaos. If there’s one thing she can’t tolerate, it’s stupidity. The defences falter at her words, and finally use their heads instead of acting on fear.
“Where’s Caleb?” she whispers, coming to meet me.
“Last I checked, everything was under control.” I keep my voice even; I can’t tell her the truth. Not here, not now. I don’t even know if I can trust her, especially given the mission. Scanning the room, most of the guests are already gone, likely halfway back to their kingdoms by now. I don’t see Nalaka; she was probably forced to follow her parents back to safety, to Elveron.
The General stands unmoved at the center of it all, spine straight, chin lifted, arms neatly behind his back. He looks almost pleased, the shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. To him, this is a victory. A chance to parade the Legion’s strength. The fact that the attack was contained.Confined to the Institute grounds is, in his mind, proof of his flawlessleadership.
I didn’t realize that idolizing him would only sharpenthe blade he uses to shape the world, to shape me. All I did was feed the illusion that he’s a false King. But now, I see him. Not as the war hero who saved the people. Not as the father I once begged to notice me, to love me. I see him for what he truly is, the architect of the Bloodmoon War, his masterpiece.
The soldier who betrayed his Kingdom. The father who sent my mother to die and called it duty. Who was too busy playing hero, harvesting praise, while my little brother bled into the dirt, unmourned. Who turned Wyll’s childhood into ashes and silence? Who hunted valkyries into near extinction just to prove he was stronger. And who murdered my innocence with a polished blade and called it creating a soldier.
General Brackwell is rotin uniform.
A tyrant disguised in duties, and still, he smiles. I feel the bile clawing up my throat, bitter and burning. My nostrils flare, hands curling into fists so tight I feel the blood from where my claws pierce skin. Pain is the only thing stopping me from bulging his eyes out and ripping his head off.
“Hum, Sergeant Brackwell, you’re bleeding, Sir.” One of the soldiers whispers, but I don’t acknowledge him. My vision zeroes in on my target. I want to break every bone for every life he’s destroyed. To hear him scream their names and make him understand what his power really costs.
But I can’t, not yet.
Not here.
But I will…
I swallow the fury. Cage it, allowing it to fuel me, and focus on the mission. I have to bring her back. I have to save what little good I still have in this godforsaken world. But I see it, the barest curve of his mouth, he fucking smirk. Triumphant, mocking, asif he already thinks he’s won whatever game he’s playing. And in that moment, something shifts. This isn't just about Avilyna anymore. I’m not just chasing the girl I love. I’m hunting the monster who destroyed everything.
“Sir,” I start, saluting as the Legion soldier that I am.
