The storm had not yet broken, but Selene could feel it crouching on the horizon—coiled, waiting.
The night above her stronghold hung heavy, clouds bruised with unspent lightning. Even the stars seemed wary, their silver fire dimmed as though refusing to witness what was to come.
Selene stood alone in the tower chamber, the cradle at her back. Her son slept within, though even in slumber his tiny fists clenched tight, his brow furrowed as if his dreams bore the weight of kingdoms.
She rested a hand against the cold stone sill and stared out over the desolate fields, where the shadows of beasts and broken trees stretched long in the moonlight.
The council's betrayal still echoed in her mind. The thrones had splintered—alliances crumbling to ash the very moment unity was needed most. And through that ruin, she could still hear Velkar's laughter: low, patient, inevitable.
Behind her, the Beast shifted. He lingered near the cradle, his massive frame bent, shadows coiling uneasily around him. His eyes glowed like dying embers.
"You hear it too," he rumbled, his voice low so as not to wake the child.
Selene did not turn. "I feel it," she said. "They're moving. Preparing something. The world itself holds its breath."
"The Venom Throne," the Beast spat the words as if they burned his tongue. "They'll seat their whelp upon it, crown her in darkness, and call her the heir of ruin. And the fools who turned from you will kneel."
Selene's grip on the stone tightened until it drew blood. His words were truth—truth she had tried to deny, but the seers' whispers had confirmed it. Lyra and Velkar were not waiting. They were building.
And their daughter, born of wolves and venom, was to be raised as queen of a throne that would poison all realms.
"They'll believe it," Selene murmured. "The shattered council, the fearful kings—they'll see a crown and kneel to her venom, even knowing it leads to ruin."
The Beast turned sharply, fury flickering through his shadows. "Then strike before it's built. Take the boy. Gather what allies remain. Burn their ceremony to ash before the poison roots."
Selene's heart twisted at his words. She wanted nothing more than to rise, to let her power blaze and tear down whatever twisted throne Velkar dared to raise.
But her gaze drifted back to the cradle. The boy's breath was steady, soft—yet beneath that innocence, she felt something vast coiled deep within him. A storm sleeping behind fragile skin.
He was the prophecy.
The blade and the shield.
Salvation and destruction entwined.
And yet, he was still her child.
"I cannot," she whispered.
The Beast's snarl was low, almost sorrowful. "If you wait, Selene, you gamble more than his life. Velkar doesn't wait. Lyra doesn't doubt. Only you stand torn."
Selene closed her eyes, fighting the storm inside her chest. Was it doubt, or love, that stayed her hand?
Or were they the same?
Before she could answer, the air trembled.
A scent of burnt copper and venom filled the chamber. The shadows along the walls stretched toward the cradle, reaching.
Selene spun, fire blooming at her fingertips—
—but it was not Velkar's hand reaching for her son.
It was the boy's.
His tiny fingers extended, and the air bent toward his touch. His lips moved—forming shapes no infant should know.
In a voice soft as breath, yet heavy as creation, he whispered a word.
Selene froze.
The Beast went still as stone.
The word was ancient—older than kings, older than stars. Seers spoke of it only in fragments, for it carried the weight of inevitability.
The boy's eyes fluttered open.
And for an instant, they glowed—not gold, not silver, not shadow-red, but something deeper. A hue beyond color. The shade of eternity unraveling.
Selene's heart thundered. "No," she breathed. "No, it cannot be…"
The Beast dropped to one knee beside the cradle. His massive hand pressed to the stone floor, trembling. Shadows writhed around him, as if they, too, recognized what had been spoken.
"He… names himself," the Beast rasped. "He claims his place."
The glow faded. The child's eyes closed. The chamber stilled, save for the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
But the air still thrummed with the echo of that forbidden word.
Selene pressed her hand to her mouth, her body trembling. She wanted to deny it, but the Beast's shaking voice left no room for doubt.
Her son was awakening.
And destiny itself had stirred in his blood.
---
The Coronation
Far across the realms, thunder crowned the horizon.
In the shattered valley where stone bled venom into the rivers, Velkar and Lyra gathered their horde.
Torches lined the cliffs, their flames burning an eerie green—fed by oils steeped in poison. Wolves howled from the ridges, their eyes blazing with ghostlight. The air churned with smoke and chant, the sound of countless throats lifted in unholy unison.
At the valley's heart waited the throne.
Not a chair—but a construct of malice, forged from the bones of kings, bound by chains dripping venom. Shadows coiled about its frame like serpents, and from its seat pulsed a sickly green glow—the heart of corruption given form.
Upon that throne, Lyra's daughter would sit.
Lyra stood before the gathered legions, her silver hair gleaming in the venomous fire. She wore no crown; she needed none. Every soul who looked upon her saw their queen—the wolf-mother, the traitor-sister.
Velkar stood at her side, his armor black as voidlight, his hand upon his blade. When his gaze swept the crowd, silence fell.
The girl stepped forward. No longer quite a child—but not yet grown. Her hair, dark as her father's yet streaked with her mother's silver, caught the light like frost over blood. Her eyes burned with lupine hunger. Shadows clung to her as though drawn by instinct.
Velkar raised his hand, and the valley roared.
"Behold!" his voice thundered. "The Venom Throne rises! And upon it sits the heir of wolves and shadow—the queen who will rend the stars and shatter the false flame!"
The earth quaked with the roar of wolves. Lyra placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, guiding her forward.
Step by step, the girl ascended the throne. The venom pulsed beneath her, whispering promises of ruin. She turned, seated herself upon the bones of kings.
The shadows bowed.
A crown of living venom was lowered upon her brow. It hissed as it met her skin, sinking into her flesh, binding itself to her blood. She did not flinch.
The Venom Throne had found its queen.
---
The Twin Awakening
Far away, Selene gasped. The vision struck without warning, tearing through her mind.
She had not meant to see it—but the cursed bond of blood and fate dragged her into the moment. She saw the throne. She saw the crown. She saw the wolves kneel.
And she saw her sister smile.
Selene fell to her knees, clutching the floor as the vision faded. The Beast rushed to her, but she waved him away, tears streaming down her face.
"It has begun," she whispered. "The Venom Throne rises. And all who kneel will be poisoned."
The Beast's hands clenched into fists. "Then we burn it. Burn them all. While their venom-child still breathes."
But Selene couldn't speak. For even as she saw Lyra's daughter crowned, she still heard the echo of her own son's forbidden word—thrumming deep in her bones.
Two heirs.
Two thrones.
And prophecy itself—bending, waiting to be broken.
---
The Word Made Flesh
The cradle stirred.
Selene turned.
Her son was awake, his eyes open—steady, unblinking, faintly aglow. He lifted one small hand, and the flames in the chamber bent toward him, bowing in silent reverence.
Then he spoke—not babbling, not the broken sounds of infancy, but clear and precise, in the tongue of the ancients.
"Mother," he whispered.
Selene froze. Her blood turned to ice.
The Beast said nothing. Even the shadows held their breath.
No child should speak so. No child should know those words.
But he had named her. Claimed her.
And the air itself split, as though creation had taken notice.
Selene's tears burned down her cheeks. Her son's gaze met hers—calm, endless. A storm contained within fragile flesh.
And in that instant, she understood.
He was no mere heir.
He was destiny unbound.
He would not simply meet Lyra's daughter in battle.
He would remake prophecy itself.