Chapter 7
1463 Words
Chapter 7: The Man Who Knew Her Name
The stranger wore the face of a dead man.
Elena recognized him from her visions—the same sharp cheekbones, the same pale eyes, the same black armor stained with silver markings. Yet the woman who had appeared in Elena’s dreams had watched him die beneath a burning palace.
Now he stood at the entrance to Blackthorn’s ceremony ground, smiling as if he had come to collect something that belonged to him.
“Where is the girl?” he asked.
Driven raised his sword. “You are standing on Blackthorn territory. Give your name and explain your presence.”
The stranger barely glanced at him.
“I didn't come for you, Alpha.”
His pale eyes settled on Elena.
“There you are, little Sovereign.”
The title sent a shiver through her. She stepped away from the shattered altar, refusing to let him see her fear.
“Who are you?”
His smile widened. “Someone your family should have killed when they had the chance.”
The High Priestess made a frightened sound. “Malrec.”
The stranger inclined his head. “Still alive, old woman? I admire your stubbornness.”
Driven tightened his grip on his sword. “Malrec of what pack?”
“Packs are for creatures who need somewhere to belong.” Malrec lifted one gloved hand. “I serve something much older.”
The warriors surrounding him shifted uneasily. None had seen him enter the territory, and no sentry had sounded an alarm until he was already inside the ceremony ground.
That frightened Elena more than his appearance.
“What do you want with me?” she demanded.
Malrec studied the silver crown on her wrist. For the first time, his expression lost its amusement.
“The seal has truly broken.”
He took one step forward.
Elena's power stirred beneath her skin.
“Stay where you are,” she warned.
Instead, Malrec bowed.
The gesture was so unexpected that even Driven hesitated.
“My Sovereign,” Malrec murmured. “I have waited eighteen years to see you standing in the flesh.”
Elena's breath caught.
Eighteen years.
That was how old she was.
“What do you know about my family?”
“Everything that matters.”
“Then tell me.”
Malrec straightened. “Your mother didn't die in the palace fire.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath Elena's feet.
For eighteen years, she had believed her parents were dead. The few scraps of information she had been given described a fire, a ruined estate, and a family whose name had been erased from history.
“You're lying,” she whispered.
“Am I?” He reached inside his armor and withdrew a small silver pendant. Its crescent-shaped design matched the mark on her wrist.
Elena stared at it.
She had seen that symbol in her dreams.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your mother gave it to me.”
Hope rose in Elena's chest so suddenly that it hurt. “Where is she?”
Malrec's expression turned almost sympathetic.
“That depends on whether you cooperate.”
Driven stepped between them. “You will not bargain with her.”
Malrec looked at him with mild contempt. “You rejected her in front of your entire pack. You have no right to speak for her.”
Driven's face darkened.
Elena felt a cruel satisfaction at seeing him confronted with the consequences of his own choice. But it vanished as quickly as it came. Her mother's survival mattered more than Driven's shame.
“What do you want me to do?” Elena asked.
“Come with me. Leave this pack behind, and I will take you to the truth.”
“And if I refuse?”
Malrec closed his fist around the pendant.
“Then your mother's location remains a secret.”
Elena took a step toward him.
“Don't,” the High Priestess warned.
Malrec's pale eyes flicked toward the older woman. “You should have stayed silent.”
He moved so quickly that the nearest warriors barely reacted. One moment he stood at the entrance; the next, his hand was around the priestess's throat.
“Tell her what happened that night,” he demanded.
The priestess struggled against his grip.
Elena's silver flames erupted.
“Let her go!”
Malrec glanced at Elena. His expression sharpened as the flames curled toward him, but he did not release his captive.
“Control your temper, Sovereign. You have no idea what your power can do.”
“I said let her go!”
The silver flames struck.
Malrec released the priestess just before the blast hit him, hurling him across the clearing. He landed on one knee, his armor smoking.
For the first time, he looked genuinely impressed.
“There it is,” he murmured. “The power that destroyed an empire.”
Elena stared at the damage around her. Stone had splintered beneath the flames. The warriors had scattered, and the High Priestess was coughing on the ground.
She hadn't meant to hurt anyone.
She hadn't even known she could release that much power.
Driven approached cautiously. “Elena, look at me. Breathe.”
She rounded on him. “Don't pretend you care about me now.”
He stopped.
Pain crossed his face, but he did not argue.
Malrec rose slowly, brushing dust from his armor. “You see? Blackthorn cannot protect you. Your power is waking, and every enemy your ancestors made will come searching.”
He lifted the pendant again.
“Come with me, and I will tell you why your mother disappeared.”
Elena's fingers trembled.
She wanted to believe him. She wanted answers so desperately that she could almost hear her mother's voice calling from the darkness of her memories.
But something about Malrec felt wrong.
The woman in her visions had looked at him with terror.
And just before the palace burned, she had whispered a warning Elena could never forget.
Trust no one who offers you the truth too easily.
Elena lowered her hands.
“I won't go anywhere with you.”
Malrec's smile disappeared.
“Then you leave me no choice.”
He crushed the silver pendant in his fist.
A sharp c***k echoed through the clearing.
Elena screamed as the mark on her wrist burned. Her knees buckled, and a wave of cold spread through her veins. The silver flames vanished as though someone had extinguished them.
Malrec opened his hand. The pendant had become black dust.
“What have you done to me?” Elena gasped.
“Nothing permanent.” He approached her, his expression hardening. “I merely reminded your blood who holds the key.”
Driven lunged at him.
Their blades collided with a deafening clang. Malrec twisted, struck Driven across the chest, and sent the Alpha crashing into the broken altar.
“Driven!” Rowan shouted, rushing to his side.
Malrec barely acknowledged the attack. His attention remained fixed on Elena, who struggled to stand.
“Your mother made the same mistake,” he told her. “She thought love could protect her from the truth.”
Elena forced herself upright.
“What did you do to her?”
Malrec leaned close enough for her to see the strange black veins beneath his pale skin.
“I gave her a choice.”
A terrible realization settled over Elena. “You were there when the palace burned.”
“I started the fire.”
The admission stole her breath.
Before she could move, Malrec seized her wrist. Pain flashed through her, and the silver crown flickered weakly beneath his fingers.
“Now,” he whispered, “you will come with me.”
Elena tried to summon her power, but nothing answered.
Malrec began dragging her toward the entrance.
Driven struggled to rise, blood running from the corner of his mouth. “Get your hands off her!”
Malrec laughed.
“You rejected the Sovereign, Alpha. You should have considered who would claim her next.”
A deep howl rolled across the territory.
Malrec froze.
The warriors turned toward the northern gate. Even the wounded Driven lifted his head.
A second howl followed, so powerful that the remaining torches flickered out.
Malrec's grip loosened around Elena's wrist.
For the first time since his arrival, genuine fear crossed his face.
“No,” he whispered. “He cannot have found her yet.”
Elena looked toward the darkness beyond the gate.
A voice, cold and commanding, carried through the night.
“Release her.”
Malrec stumbled backward.
The High Priestess bowed her head to the ground.
And Elena heard the stranger's name spoken in a trembling whisper.
“Zevarion Ashbourne. The immortal Lycan King.”
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