Three weeks into training - Northern Border
The attack came at midnight.
Kieran was deep in meditation, practicing holding his semi-transformed state without the moonlight pool's assistance, when the alarm bells shattered the night.
Not the city bells. The border bells.
His eyes snapped open, already glowing silver. Through the bond, he felt Rhydian's instant combat readiness, felt his mate already moving toward the war room.
Kieran ran.
The war room was chaos. Maps being unfurled, reports flying in, commanders shouting over each other. But Rhydian stood at the center, utterly calm, his mismatched eyes tracking every piece of information with predatory focus.
"Report," he commanded, voice cutting through the noise.
Lyria slammed a map onto the table. "Northern border. Three towns attacked simultaneously. Not random raids—coordinated assault. Military precision."
"Casualties?"
"Unknown. Communication cut off fifteen minutes ago." She pointed to marks on the map. "Moonhaven, Darkridge, and Silverpine. All strategic locations. Someone's probing our defenses."
"Or declaring war," Nikolai added grimly, wheeling himself to the table. His new prosthetics—a combination of fae magic and demon engineering—gleamed in the lamplight, not yet fully integrated. "This isn't a probe. This is an opening move."
Kieran studied the map. The three towns formed a triangle, and in the center—
"The Northern Pass," he breathed. "They're trying to secure the pass. Control that, and they control all trade routes between Shadowlands and the Eastern Territories."
"Cutting off Draven's alliance," Rhydian said, already seeing the strategy. "Isolate us before attacking in force." His claws extended unconsciously. "How many attackers?"
"Estimates say two hundred. Maybe more." Lyria's jaw was tight. "Mix of vampires and something else. Witnesses reported creatures they couldn't identify before communications went dark."
"Vampires working with unknowns? That's unusual." Dante limped into the room, still recovering but refusing to stay in the medical wing. "Vampires don't share power. Who could command their cooperation?"
Silvara appeared in the doorway, her ancient face grave. "A Sealed One could."
The room went silent.
"Which one?" Rhydian demanded.
"Unknown. But I felt the disturbance three days ago. One of the remaining six has awakened." Silvara moved to the map. "These attacks bear the mark of Valdris the Corruptor. Fourth Sealed One. His specialty is turning allies against each other, corrupting the bonds between species."
"He's trying to break our alliance with Draven," Kieran realized. "Cut us off, make us look weak or aggressive. Force Draven to choose between supporting us and protecting his own territory."
"Clever strategy," Nikolai admitted. "If we march north to retake the pass, we leave Shadowkeep vulnerable. If we don't, we lose our primary trade route and look weak. Either way, the alliance suffers."
"Unless we move fast and hit hard." Rhydian's eyes gleamed red. "We retake all three towns simultaneously. Show strength. Prove the Shadowlands can defend its territory and its allies."
"That splits our forces," Lyria warned.
"Then we make up for numbers with power." Rhydian looked at Kieran. "Can you fight? Be honest."
Kieran assessed himself. Three weeks of brutal training had left him exhausted, flickering at the edges, barely sleeping. But his power had also grown exponentially. He could maintain energy form for three full minutes now. Could shift partially without the moonlight pool. Could feel the pulse of moon fae magic in everything around him.
He was still far from Apotheosis. But he was dangerous.
"I can fight," he said. "Better than I could a month ago."
Through the bond, Rhydian felt the truth of it. Also felt the exhaustion, the toll the training had taken. But they didn't have the luxury of rest.
"Then here's the plan," Rhydian said, turning to the map. "Three strike teams. Lyria takes Moonhaven with fifty warriors. Nikolai coordinates Darkridge assault with demon specialists. I take Silverpine with the hybrid guard."
"And me?" Kieran asked.
"With me. Your moon fae power will counter whatever corruption magic Valdris is using. Plus—" Rhydian's voice dropped, "—if this is a Sealed One, we face it together. I'm not letting you near one of those things without me ever again."
Possessive. Protective. Absolutely unmovable.
Kieran should have argued. Strategically, it made more sense to split up, cover more ground. But the memory of facing Zarath, of dying in Rhydian's arms, made him reluctant to separate.
"Together," he agreed.
"Mobilize everyone," Rhydian commanded. "We move in thirty minutes. Fast march, combat formations. I want those towns retaken before dawn."
The room exploded into motion.
Northern Pass - Two hours later
They approached Silverpine from the forest, two hundred warriors moving in absolute silence. Hybrids, demons, fae, even a few vampires who'd sworn loyalty to the Shadowlands—all united under Rhydian's command.
Kieran moved beside his mate, his enhanced senses tracking everything. The town ahead was dark, too dark. No lights in windows, no movement in streets. Either everyone was dead or hiding.
Or it was a trap.
"Smell that?" Rhydian murmured.
Kieran did. Corruption. Like meat left to rot, mixed with something chemical and wrong. It permeated the air, thick enough to taste.
"Valdris," Silvara confirmed, having insisted on joining this strike team. "He's definitely here. Or his power is."
Through the bond, Kieran felt Rhydian's battle readiness surge. Felt the hybrid nature rising—part vampire precision, part werewolf savagery, all lethal grace.
"Cade," Rhydian called softly to his Beta. "Take half the force around the eastern approach. Wait for my signal. We'll pincer them."
The massive werewolf nodded, already moving.
Rhydian turned to his remaining warriors. "Remember—they're trying to bait us into looking like aggressors. We retake the town, neutralize the threat, but we capture when possible. Witnesses are valuable. We need proof this was an unprovoked attack on our territory."
Nods all around.
"Kieran." Rhydian's hand found his, squeezed once. Through the bond: Stay close. Stay alive. I can't do this without you.
Same to you, Kieran sent back. Don't die doing something heroic.
That's rich coming from you.
Despite everything, Kieran smiled.
Then they moved.
The attack was swift and brutal.
Rhydian's forces poured into Silverpine from two directions, catching the occupiers off guard. But what they found made Kieran's blood run cold.
The "vampires" Lyria had reported weren't vampires. Not anymore.
They'd been corrupted. Twisted. Their bodies warped by dark magic into something between vampire and demon, with none of the humanity or reason of either species. They moved with feral hunger, attacking everything that moved.
And they were strong. Faster than regular vampires, more vicious. They tore through the Shadowlands' warriors like they were made of paper.
"Don't let them bite you!" Silvara screamed. "Valdris's corruption spreads through blood contact!"
Too late. Three warriors went down, bitten, and within seconds their bodies started convulsing. The corruption spreading, turning them into more twisted creatures.
"Fall back!" Rhydian roared. "Reform defensive lines!"
But the corrupted creatures kept coming. Dozens of them, pouring from buildings, emerging from shadows. They'd been waiting.
This wasn't a raid. It was an ambush.
Kieran felt Rhydian's fury through the bond. Felt his mate realize they'd been outmaneuvered, lured into exactly the kind of battle that would cause massive casualties.
No, Kieran thought. Not happening.
His power rose. Moon fae energy flooding his system, responding to his need to protect, to defend his people. His hands began glowing silver, light pouring from his skin.
"Kieran, wait—" Silvara started.
But Kieran was already moving.
He stepped into the center of the battlefield, raising both hands. Drew on the moonlight overhead—three-quarters full, bright enough to cast shadows—and pulled it down.
Silver radiance erupted from him like a shockwave.
It washed over the corrupted creatures, and they screamed. The dark magic twisting their bodies couldn't exist in pure moonlight. It burned away like mist in sunlight, leaving behind the original vampires—confused, weakened, but uncorrupted.
"NOW!" Rhydian didn't waste the opening. His warriors surged forward, capturing the disoriented vampires, securing them with silver chains.
But Kieran wasn't done.
He could feel it—the source of the corruption. A wellspring of dark magic somewhere in the town, constantly pumping out that rotting wrongness. As long as it existed, more creatures would be corrupted.
He had to find it. Destroy it.
His consciousness expanded, spreading through the town in that vast awareness he'd learned to access during training. Felt every living thing, every magical signature. And there—in the town hall basement—a pulse of ancient, terrible power.
Valdris. Or his avatar. Something powerful and corrupt and utterly wrong.
Rhydian, he sent through the bond. Town hall. Basement. That's where it's coming from.
Don't you dare go alone, Rhydian sent back immediately.
Wasn't planning to.
But even as he thought it, Kieran felt himself being pulled toward that dark power. Felt it calling to his moon fae nature, challenging him, daring him to face it.
The seduction of battle. The need to protect. It overrode caution.
Kieran ran toward the town hall.
Behind him, he heard Rhydian's roar of fury. Felt his mate give chase. But Kieran was faster now, his partially transformed state letting him move at supernatural speed.
He burst through the town hall doors, found the basement stairs, descended into darkness that his moon fae sight cut through easily.
And there, in the center of a ritual circle drawn in blood and bone, stood something that made Kieran's power recoil in instinctive horror.
Not Valdris himself. But his avatar—a physical manifestation of the Sealed One's power. It looked almost human, beautiful even, with pale skin and dark eyes and a smile that promised terrible things.
"Moon fae," it purred, voice like poisoned honey. "How delightful. I was hoping you'd come."
"You attacked my home," Kieran said, his hands blazing with silver light. "Bad decision."
"Was it? You're here, away from your mate, separated from your forces." The avatar circled the ritual circle's edge. "Exactly where I wanted you."
Kieran felt the trap snap shut. Felt wards activate around the basement, cutting him off from the moon above. His power flickered, weakened without direct moonlight.
Shit.
"Did you really think we learned nothing from Zarath's defeat?" The avatar laughed. "The Sealed Ones talk to each other, little fae. We know your tricks now. Know your power comes from moonlight. So we simply remove the moonlight."
The basement went absolutely dark as more wards activated, blocking even Kieran's enhanced sight.
Then the attack came.
Claws raked across his back. Teeth tore at his shoulder. Pain exploded through him as the avatar moved faster than he could track in the darkness.
Kieran tried to transform, to access his energy form and escape, but the wards held him physical, prevented the shift.
He was trapped. Powerless. About to die.
Again.
RHYDIAN!
The bond flared. Not a call for help—a demand, an anchor, a lifeline thrown into darkness.
And Rhydian answered.
The basement doors exploded inward. The Beast King descended the stairs in his full hybrid form—massive, terrifying, all fangs and claws and primal fury. His mismatched eyes blazed in the darkness, seeing everything.
"GET. AWAY. FROM. MY. MATE."
He didn't wait for a response. Just launched himself at the avatar with such speed and violence that the creature barely had time to scream.
Claws met flesh. Fangs tore through muscle. Blood—black and viscous—splattered the ritual circle, disrupting the wards.
And in that moment of disruption, Kieran felt it—the moonlight above, calling to him through the broken wards. He reached for it desperately, pulled it down through stone and earth and magic.
Silver radiance flooded the basement.
The avatar shrieked, its form destabilizing in pure moonlight. Valdris's corruption couldn't exist here, couldn't maintain physical form against moon fae power amplified by desperation and fury.
"Together," Rhydian snarled, his claws still embedded in the avatar's chest. Through the bond: Hit it now! While I hold it!
Kieran didn't hesitate. He poured everything he had into one focused blast of moonlight—three weeks of brutal training, all his newly developed power, channeled through his connection to Rhydian and amplified by their combined rage.
The avatar exploded.
Not died—exploded. Its corrupted form unable to withstand the combined might of hybrid king and moon fae mate working in perfect synchronization.
The ritual circle shattered. The corruption magic dissipated. And in the sudden silence, Kieran and Rhydian stood in a basement covered in black blood and broken wards.
"You," Rhydian said, his voice dangerously quiet, "are the most reckless, infuriating, stupidly brave person I have ever met."
"You," Kieran shot back, "took three seconds too long getting here."
They stared at each other. Then, simultaneously, both started laughing.
The laughter was slightly hysterical, fueled by adrenaline and relief and the sheer absurdity of their situation. Fighting ancient evils in basement while their people battled corruption monsters above.
This was their life now.
"Never again," Rhydian said when the laughter faded. He was still in hybrid form, towering over Kieran, covered in blood and looking absolutely feral. "You don't run toward ancient evil without me ever again."
"Says the person who once fought a vampire lord alone for three days."
"That was before I had a mate to worry about." Rhydian's claws retracted slowly, his form shifting back toward human. "Now I have something to lose. Makes me more cautious."
"Could've fooled me with that entrance."
"That was protective fury, not recklessness. There's a difference."
Kieran stepped closer, ignoring the blood and gore covering both of them. "Thank you. For getting here in time."
"Always." Rhydian pulled him close, careful despite his still-partially-transformed state. "The bond makes sure I always find you. You call, I answer. That's how this works."
Through the bond, Kieran felt the absolute certainty of that promise. Felt how Rhydian would tear through armies, demolish kingdoms, break reality itself to reach him if necessary.
It should have been terrifying. Instead, it was the most secure Kieran had ever felt.
"Come on," he said. "Let's see if the others managed not to burn down the rest of the town while we were down here."
They emerged from the basement to find the battle over.
With the avatar destroyed and the corruption source eliminated, the twisted creatures had either fled or been captured. The Shadowlands forces were securing the town, tending to wounded, documenting everything.
Cade approached, looking impressed. "Saw that light show from outside. Moon fae power?"
"Combined with hybrid fury," Kieran confirmed. "Valdris's avatar is destroyed."
"Good. Because we have a problem." Cade's expression went serious. "We captured one of the attack coordinators. He's talking. Says this wasn't just about the Northern Pass."
"What was it about?" Rhydian demanded.
"Testing your response time. Measuring your strength. Gathering intelligence." Cade's jaw tightened. "Valdris is planning something bigger. This was just reconnaissance."
Kieran felt cold dread settle in his stomach. An avatar—a mere fraction of a Sealed One's power—had nearly killed him. And that was just a test?
"Where's the prisoner?" Rhydian asked.
"Town square. But Boss—he won't talk to anyone except Kieran. Says the 'moon child' needs to hear his message directly."
Message. That couldn't be good.
They found the prisoner chained in the square—a vampire, uncorrupted now, but clearly terrified. When he saw Kieran, he started laughing. High-pitched and slightly unhinged.
"He said you'd come! Said the moon child couldn't resist!" The vampire's eyes were wild. "Valdris sends his regards. Says to tell you that you're not ready. Says three more weeks of training won't be enough. Won't ever be enough."
"How does he know about my training?" Kieran demanded.
"He knows everything! Sees everything! The Sealed Ones talk to each other, share information. They know you're trying to reach Apotheosis. Know you're humanity's last hope." The vampire's laugh turned into a sob. "And they're going to make sure you fail. Going to break you. Break your mate. Break everything you love until there's nothing left but despair."
Rhydian stepped forward, radiating menace. "Where is Valdris? Where is he hiding?"
"Everywhere! Nowhere! He's corruption itself—exists wherever there's darkness and decay and betrayal!" The vampire was crying now, full-on sobbing. "You can't fight him. Can't stop what's coming. The Fourth Seal is broken, and the others will follow. By winter, all nine will be free. By spring, the world ends."
"By spring?" Silvara had approached silently. "That's faster than expected. Zarath's death must have accelerated their awakening."
"They're afraid," Kieran realized suddenly. "That's why they're rushing. They're afraid of what I might become if I reach Apotheosis."
"Good," Rhydian said flatly. "They should be."
But through the bond, Kieran felt his mate's concern. Felt Rhydian doing the math—six more Sealed Ones, less than six months to prepare, and Kieran still far from achieving full Apotheosis.
They were running out of time.
Dawn - Silverpine
The three towns were secured by sunrise. Casualties were lower than expected—twelve dead, thirty wounded, but no one corrupted beyond saving. Valdris's avatar had been eliminated, the corruption magic neutralized.
By any measure, it was a victory.
But it felt like a defeat.
"He wanted us to win," Kieran said as they stood on Silverpine's wall, watching the sunrise. "Wanted to measure our strength, see how we respond to threats. This entire attack was an intelligence-gathering mission."
"Effective one, too," Rhydian admitted. "Now he knows our response time, our tactics, our power levels. Knows how your moon fae abilities work against his corruption."
"Next time he'll be ready for it."
"So we get stronger. Faster." Rhydian pulled Kieran against his side. "You continue training. Push harder."
"Silvara said—"
"I know what she said about the risks. But we don't have the luxury of slow, safe training anymore." Rhydian's voice was grim. "The Sealed Ones are waking faster than expected. You need to reach Apotheosis in three months, not six."
"That could kill me."
"And facing Valdris at partial power definitely will kill you." Rhydian turned to face him fully. "I'm not losing you, Kieran. Whatever it takes—accelerated training, more dangerous exercises, pushing past every limit—we do it. Because the alternative is watching you die fighting a Sealed One while I'm too weak to save you."
The memory of Zarath's temple hung between them. The memory of Kieran's death, of Rhydian's desperate resurrection, of how close they'd come to losing everything.
"Three months," Kieran agreed. "We reach Apotheosis in three months. Then we hunt Valdris down and end him before he's fully awakened."
"Proactive instead of reactive. I like it." A hint of Rhydian's usual confidence returned. "We've been playing defense since this started. Time to go on offense."
"You sure that's wise? We barely survived this skirmish."
"Which is exactly why we need to strike first next time. Catch Valdris before he's ready, before the other Sealed Ones can support him." Rhydian's eyes gleamed with predatory focus. "You wanted war? You got it. But this time, we take the fight to them."
Through the bond, Kieran felt his mate's determination. Felt the Beast King emerging—not the c