Chapter 13 The journey North begins
1265 Words
For a moment, no one moved.
The battlefield still held its breath, caught between violence and something far more fragile.
Mira’s voice broke through it—unsteady, but unwavering.
“Let me heal her.”
Every eye shifted to Draco.
It was a dangerous request.
A bold one.
But a mother did not ask permission out of fear.
Only necessity.
Draco’s gaze lingered on Selene for a long second—measuring, calculating… something deeper flickering beneath the surface.
Then, without a word—
He nodded.
The hold on Mira released instantly.
She didn’t hesitate.
She ran.
Dropping to her knees beside Selene, her hands already glowing with soft, steady light. Magic unlike the chaos of battle—this was controlled, precise… gentle.
“Easy, my love…” Mira whispered, her voice trembling despite her focus.
Her hands hovered just above Selene’s ribs, the light sinking into fractured bone, torn muscle, bruised skin. The cracks mended slowly, carefully—pain easing with each passing second.
Around them, the war remained paused.
Not ended.
Not forgotten.
Just… waiting.
Selene…
Mira’s voice slipped into her daughter’s mind, quieter now, shielded from the world around them.
You must be careful.
The magic pulsed softly between them.
This path… it is not without cost.
Selene’s breathing steadied as the last of the pain faded. Her strength returned—not fully, but enough.
Her gaze softened, just for a moment, as she met her mother’s eyes.
I know, she answered gently through the link.
A pause.
Then, quieter—
But I will come back.
Mira’s hands faltered for the briefest second.
You don’t know that.
Selene’s lips curved faintly—not in defiance… but in certainty.
Yes, I do.
Another pulse of magic.
The final thread of healing settled into place.
Mira lowered her hands slowly, her fingers lingering for just a second longer against Selene’s cheek.
I love you.
Selene leaned into the touch, just briefly.
I love you too.
The moment ended.
It had to.
Selene rose to her feet.
Stronger.
Steadier.
Changed—not by the healing… but by the choice she had already made.
She turned back toward Draco.
No hesitation.
No chains.
No force.
She walked to him willingly.
Behind her, Mira’s hand fell to her side, her composure fracturing just enough for Merrick to step beside her.
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
His presence alone was a promise.
Selene stopped in front of Draco, her chin lifting slightly, her gaze unwavering.
“I’m ready.”
For a brief second—
The world narrowed to just the two of them.
Light and shadow.
Choice and consequence.
Draco studied her.
Not as a possession.
Not as a prize.
But as something far more dangerous.
Something that had chosen him back.
Then he turned.
“Release them,” he ordered.
No hesitation.
No conditions.
Across the field, the captives were freed. The pressure lifted. The immediate threat—gone.
But no one celebrated.
Because everyone understood—
This was not victory.
It was the beginning of something far more uncertain.
Draco glanced back once.
“Come.”
Selene didn’t look behind her.
She didn’t need to.
She could still feel them—her family, her home, everything she was leaving behind.
And everything she intended to return to.
Then, without another word—
She followed him into the shadows.
Draco offered his hand to Selene, who nodded and took it. A brief, subtle connection passed between them before fading. Draco climbed onto his black steed and helped Selene up behind him, both silent for a moment.
The land, once filled with tension and violence, had fallen into a heavy silence. The bodies of those who had disobeyed still lay where they had fallen—a stark reminder of the King’s power and the cost of defiance.
“Hold on,” Draco commanded quietly. Selene briefly paused, then placed her hands on his Armor, sensing the power beneath—power that had just ended three lives without hesitation.
The steed surged forward, quickly taking Selene away from all she knew. Mira watched silently, hands clasped, as her daughter vanished beyond the borders of the pack lands. The wind stirred Mira’s hair while their mind link offered a faint reassurance: “I’m alright,” Selene sent, though the connection weakened as the distance grew.
The ride was long, the world changing as they travelled. Lush lands gave way to darker terrain, the sky itself seeming heavier, as if it bowed to Draco’s dominion. Jagged mountains rose in the distanceIn the distance, the Obsidian Keep rose from the darkness—strong, imposing, yet strangely elegant, its black walls catching what little light remained.
The Shadowlands are not merely a place—they are a presence.
The sky never fully brightens, suspended in a constant twilight where the sun appears only as a dim, fractured glow behind thick veils of ash-gray clouds. The land itself seems to breathe. Forests of blackened, glass-like trees creak without wind, their branches whispering in voices too faint to understand. Rivers run slow and dark, reflecting not the sky above but distorted images of those who look into them—memories, regrets, or possible futures.
Magic here does not behave as it does elsewhere.
In the Shadowlands, magic feeds on emotion—especially fear, grief, and anger. The stronger the feeling, the stronger the spell. But it comes at a cost. Every use of magic leaves a mark called “the Veiltrace”—a shadow-like fracture that creeps across the user’s skin or soul. Over time, those who rely too heavily on Shadow magic risk becoming something else entirely: wraith-like beings known as Hollowed, creatures that have lost their identity and now exist only as vessels of raw magic.
Because of this, magic is both power and curse—and tightly controlled. and at their centre stood a fortress carved from black stone, towering and unyielding.
Selene’s grip tightened slightly “So, this is your Kingdom,” she said, her voice steady despite the unease settling in her chest Draco did not turn, but he heard the shift in her tone “This is where we will rule,” he corrected. Selene frowned faintly. “Rule… or be kept?”
The question lingered between them for a moment, Draco said nothing. Then, more slowly than she expected, he replied, “That depends on you.”
The gates of the fortress opened before them with a deep, groaning sound. As they entered, rows of guards bowed low—not in fear alone, but in absolute obedience and then… they bowed to her too Selene noticed.
Arrival at the Fortress
Draco dismounted first, then turned to face Selene, extending his hand once more. This time, his gesture was absent of any force or demand, instead carrying only a quiet expectation and an unspoken sentiment Selene could not identify.
Selene paused, her gaze shifting from his outstretched hand to his face, searching for meaning in his expression.
Quietly, she spoke, “You killed them for touching me.” Draco replied simply, “Yes.”
Selene hesitated, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “You don’t even know me.” Draco’s gaze darkened slightly, but not with anger “I know enough.”
Selene studied him for a long moment before placing her hand in his again and stepping down “Then perhaps,” she said, lifting her chin just slightly, “you should start learning the rest.”
For the briefest second, that same unplaceable feeling flickered in Draco’s eyes again and this time… it lingered.
- Writer
