Elara's POV
"Get out of my head!" I scream, pressing my hands against my temples.
Seraphina's laughter echoes through the bond, using Dante's voice like a puppet. "Oh, little star. I'm not in your head. I'm in his. And through him, I can feel exactly where you are. The North won't protect you."
"Elara!" Kieran grabs my shoulders. "What's happening?"
"She's possessing him. Seraphina is inside Dante, controlling him through the bond!" The words tumble out in panic. "She can see through his eyes, feel what he feels. She knows I'm here!"
The elderly woman's blind eyes widen with horror. "Cut the bond. Now. Before she uses him as a weapon against us."
"I can't!" Tears stream down my face. "If I cut it, Dante dies. He's innocent in this—he doesn't even know he's infected!"
Through the bond, I feel Dante fighting. His consciousness struggles against Seraphina's dark magic, trying to break free. He's still in there, trapped and terrified.
Kieran's face hardens with decision. "Then we block the bond. My shamans can create a barrier—it won't break the connection, but it will stop her from using it as a bridge."
"Will it work?" I ask desperately.
"It has to." He turns to his warriors. "Summon the shaman circle. Now!"
Within minutes, twelve ancient shamans surround me in a circle. They begin chanting in a language older than wolves, older than the Moon Goddess herself. Their combined magic wraps around me like chains—not painful, but heavy. Protective.
The bond to Dante grows muffled, distant. Seraphina's presence fades.
Her final words echo as the barrier locks into place: "Enjoy your borrowed time, little star. I'm coming. And when I arrive, your precious Northern wolves will burn."
Then silence. Blessed, terrifying silence.
I collapse, shaking. Kieran catches me.
"Is she gone?" he asks the eldest shaman.
"Blocked, not gone," the old woman corrects. "The barrier will hold for maybe a week. Two if we're lucky. But eventually, her power will break through. Dark magic always finds a way."
A week. I have one week to figure out how to save Dante and stop Seraphina before she destroys everything.
"Come," Kieran says gently, helping me stand. "You need rest. Real rest. We'll figure this out, but not tonight."
He leads me through his stronghold. Unlike the cold stone of Dante's Royal Stronghold, this place feels warm. Alive. Wolves greet me with respectful nods instead of sneers. Children peek around corners, their eyes wide with wonder at my glowing marks.
"They're not afraid of me?" I whisper.
"Why would they be?" Kieran smiles. "The North remembers the Starborn were protectors, not destroyers. These children are seeing a legend come to life."
A little girl approaches shyly, holding out a handful of wildflowers. "For the star lady," she says.
My throat tightens. I take the flowers with trembling hands. "Thank you."
She grins and runs back to her mother, who bows her head to me with genuine respect.
When was the last time someone gave me flowers instead of insults?
Kieran shows me to a room—my room, he says. It's beautiful. Warm furs on the bed, a fireplace crackling with heat, windows overlooking snow-capped mountains. Nothing like the cold, empty healing house where I used to sleep in the Border Settlements.
"It's too much," I protest weakly.
"It's exactly right." Kieran's golden eyes are kind. "You're not a servant here, Elara. You're an honored guest. A queen, if you wanted to be."
Queen. The word sounds foreign. Impossible.
That night, Kieran invites me to dinner with his advisors and warriors. I hesitate—expecting judgment, whispers, the same treatment I got in the South.
Instead, they welcome me warmly. Ask my opinions about Seraphina's threat. Actually listen when I speak about the attack in the canyon and what I learned from the elderly shaman.
"You think she's not just dark magic, but something older?" one advisor asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.
"Yes. The priestess in the South said the real Seraphina died. This thing wearing her face is something else." I try to organize my scattered thoughts. "Something ancient that shouldn't exist anymore."
"The Forgotten Ones," an old warrior breathes. "The beings that existed before the Moon Goddess created order from chaos. We thought they were all sealed away."
"One must have escaped," Kieran says grimly. "And it's been hiding, planning, waiting for a Starborn to awaken so it could feed on cosmic power."
The room goes silent with that horrifying realization.
Finally, a female warrior speaks up. "Then we fight. We protect our Starborn and we kill this thing before it destroys everything our ancestors built."
Everyone around the table nods in agreement. These wolves—strangers just days ago—are willing to fight and die for me.
The feeling is overwhelming.
After dinner, I return to my room. The bed is soft, the furs warm. For the first time in forever, I feel safe.
As I drift toward sleep, I think: Maybe I can be happy here. Maybe I can heal. Maybe this is where I belong.
Through the muffled bond, I feel Dante distantly. His consciousness is fighting harder now, trying to break Seraphina's hold. He's in agony—not physical pain, but the torture of being trapped in his own body while something evil uses him.
I should be glad he's suffering after what he did to me.
But I'm not. I'm just sad.
Sleep takes me under, and for the first time in weeks, I dream of something besides rejection and pain. I dream of stars calling me home.
Then the dream shifts.
Suddenly I'm standing in Dante's chamber, seeing through his eyes. Seraphina's dark magic flows through his veins like poison. She's forcing him to write orders—orders to mobilize the entire Southern army.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my dream-voice echoing.
Dante's head snaps up. Somehow, impossibly, he sees me in his mirror. "Elara?" His voice is desperate. "Is this real? Or am I going mad?"
"I don't know. What's happening?"
"She's making me call the armies. Making me prepare for war." His hands shake as he writes against his will. "She's going to use me to destroy the North. To destroy you."
"Fight her, Dante! You're stronger than—"
"I've tried!" His silver eyes are haunted. "I can't break free. She's too powerful."
Seraphina's laughter fills the room—his room, my dream, everywhere. "How sweet. The rejected mates having a moment." Her voice comes from Dante's mouth even as he fights for control. "Let me give you something to remember, little star."
She forces Dante's hand to his chest, right over his heart. Dark magic flares.
In my bed hundreds of miles away, I wake up screaming.
Because burned into Dante's skin—and through the bond, into mine—is a message written in fire:
Seven days. Then I come with an army. Run if you want. Hide if you can. But everyone who protects you will die screaming.
My chest burns where the phantom mark mirrors his. Kieran bursts through my door, warriors behind him.
"The barrier is breaking faster than we thought," I gasp. "She's getting stronger. And she's bringing an army in seven days."
"Then we have seven days to prepare," Kieran says firmly. "Seven days to make the North ready for war."
"You'll all die fighting for me. Everyone in this stronghold will burn because of what I am."
"Then we'll burn standing." Kieran's voice is steel. "But we won't bow. And we won't let her have you."
Through the bond, I feel Dante's consciousness one more time before Seraphina locks him away completely.
His final thought reaches me like a whisper: I'm sorry. For everything. And I'm so sorry for what she's going to make me do.
Then nothing. Just darkness where he used to be.
Seraphina has complete control now.
And in seven days, she's coming with the entire Southern army.
Led by the Alpha King himself—my rejected mate, now a puppet controlled by an ancient evil that wants me dead.
The war for the North is about to begin.
And I'm the reason everyone is going to die.