Chapter 9 —
John
The letter had no seal.
No crest.
No scent.
No signature.
That alone was enough to make John's spine stiffen.
He read it once—only once. His eyes moved swiftly over the words, his face giving nothing away, but something dark settled in his chest.
Without hesitation, he folded the parchment, struck a flame, and held it steady as the fire consumed it. The paper curled, blackened, and vanished into ash.
John let the wind take what remained.
When he turned back toward the eastern grounds, his expression was calm, controlled.
No one needed to know.
Not yet.
The Southern Capital — Edgar
The South glowed.
Lanterns lined the capital grounds of the Lunaris Pack, their golden light reflecting off stone and silk banners bearing the pack sigil. Music filled the air—deep drums, laughter, celebration.
This was not mourning.
This was a declaration.
Edgar stood at the center of it all, dressed in dark finery, his presence commanding without effort. Wolves bowed their heads as he passed. Voices lowered when he spoke.
Tonight marked the new age of the South.
A woman lingered at his side as the night wore on—drawn by his power, his confidence, the way his eyes seemed to promise more than words ever could. She laughed easily, leaned closer than propriety allowed.
Later, when the hall thinned and the music softened, she followed him.
She mistook proximity for permission.
Edgar stopped her at the threshold of his chambers.
"This ends here," he said coolly.
Her smile faltered. "But you—"
His alpha aura surged without warning.
The pressure hit her like a physical force. Her breath stuttered. Her knees weakened. Instinct screamed run.
She backed away, trembling.
"Leave," Edgar commanded.
She didn't argue.
She fled.
Edgar watched her go, expression unreadable, then turned back toward the window overlooking the capital.
They were only just beginning.
The East — Leo
John returned to Leo's side just as dawn painted the horizon.
"You're certain?" Leo asked quietly.
John met his gaze. "The rogues will not return. Believe me."
Leo exhaled, nodding. "Then I will."
Later that day, Elder Rowan arrived, his tone formal.
"The witch delegates have arrived."
They entered with measured grace—robes embroidered with ancient sigils, eyes sharp with knowledge. At their center walked a dignified woman, her presence unmistakable.
"This is Madam Lin Xiaoyu," Elder Rowan announced. "Matron of the Celestial Veil Coven—the highest witch coven in the world. Its capital lies in the East."
Madam Lin inclined her head. "Alpha Leo."
At her side stood her daughter.
Maya.
The bond struck instantly.
Leo felt it like a quiet thunder—deep, undeniable. Maya froze, her breath catching as her gaze locked with his.
Mate.
They spoke carefully at first. Politics. Balance. An alliance between witches and werewolves—coexistence rather than conquest.
When they were alone, the restraint faded.
Their first night was unhurried, charged with discovery rather than urgency—hands learning, breaths syncing, marks placed deliberately, reverently. Not possession.
Promise.
By morning, the alliance was sealed in both blood and bond.
Leo wrote two letters.
One to Edgar.
One to Lucas.
I have found my mate.
The North — Lucas
Louise stood too close.
When she kissed him, Lucas's world fractured.
Memories not his own crashed into him—blood, fire, a terrified child clutching a dying woman.
He pulled back sharply. "You're a demon."
She didn't flinch.
"My mother was a werewolf," Louise said. "She served under Alpha Kane. Your father knew her."
That hit harder than the kiss.
"She died protecting me," Louise continued. "So did my brother. Rogues attacked us when I was ten."
Lucas searched her face, his instincts screaming conflict.
"And your father?"
"A demon," she answered quietly. "He took me in. He did not love me. He did not hurt me. He simply let me exist."
Lucas's doubt remained—but it wavered.
"You could be lying."
"If I were," she said softly, "you wouldn't be standing here."
She led him to Elder Blackwood.
The truth was confirmed.
That evening, they walked together through the northern grounds.
Louise (POV)
He watched everything—like he was afraid the world might betray him again.
I showed him pieces of myself. How I hear from impossible distances. How wounds knit under my touch. How objects respond when I command them.
He didn't recoil.
"You're incredible," he said quietly.
I smiled. "So are you. You just don't believe it yet."