Then Victoria breaks from the circle, her eyes locked on Maximillian, fury blazing in her face. He watches her come, that damn smirk carved into his mouth, like he already owns the victory.
A bear shifter slams into her, paw swinging. The blow sends her flying, her scream cutting through air.
For a breath, all I hear is her quiet moans.
Instinct drives me forward, but I can’t move. If I leave Serafina, the spell dies. My body locks against the choice I can’t make.
Minerva barrels past, whip snapping across the bear’s snout. She hauls Victoria back, but fire licks the floor near them, scorching skin. She’s alive, but hurt.
My chest tightens. We’re losing ground.
And then?—
A thunderclap.
It rips the air apart, rattling the bones of the ballroom. The sound slams into all of us, friend and foe alike, driving us to the ground. For an instant, everything stops. Silence swallows the chaos.
Through the stillness, the vessel rises.
Her eyes blaze. Power floods her body, vast and old, and the air shifts. Light erupts, searing white, flooding the chamber until it scours every shadow. It presses in from every side, blinding me. Cold cuts through the room, breath fogging, bones aching.
She rises from the ground, weightless, untethered. For the first time in centuries, I feel small.
Maximillian staggers back, arm raised, sneer slipping from his face. Raw fear cuts through his voice. “What the hell is this?”
What it is, is fucking glorious.
“She’s taking her blessed form,” the witch says.
Blessed form. The vessel’s true self, unleashed. Stories I never believed alive in front of me.
The light burns hotter, until all I see is white. All I feel is fire and ice in my chest. For a heartbeat, I think this is it. We’re done.
Then the radiance falls, ribbons streaming down until the last touch hits the ground and vanishes.
I blink spots from my vision.
Where the vessel stood, a wolf now takes up the space.
It is unlike any I’ve ever seen. Larger, sharper, and divine. Fur shimmering like starlight, eyes blaze with the fire of gods. The wolf is a monument of fury and moonfire.
Wolves, enemy and ally alike, go still. Silence spreads. Because this isn’t prey. This isn’t pack.
This is something greater.
My chest locks tight, because I know what I’m seeing. Not a weapon. Not a miracle. A legend made flesh.
The Blessed Wolf.
The first. The beginning. The one etched into our blood.
The fucking original.
A laugh rips out of me, half wonder, half prayer. “Fuck yeah,” I whisper, awe and terror tangling in my chest.
And then…she roars.
35
