When fate and worlds collide

02 | Familiar Boundaries

Daegon exhaled slowly, irritation threading through his control. “You’re testing my patience today.”

“I do hope that tone isn’t for me.” The door opened without waiting for permission. Trixa slipped inside and closed it softly behind her, utterly unbothered by the fractured table, Daegon’s simmering fury or the lingering tension in the air. Daegon turned, green eyes flicking over her with practiced restraint. She was a powerful healer, and a Lifebonded ally. Also a persistent menace to his composure.

They had grown up together—though “together” was generous. Even younger, Trixa had dominated every argument, every contest, every attempt he made to intimidate her… right up until he turned twelve and his power eclipsed hers. Her seven-year-old idealism, ambition and bossy attitude, however, was sharpened by stubborn loyalty. The oath bind through their power followed shortly after.

Where he went, she followed. Unfortunately, she knew it, inflating her confidence, constantly pushing the boundaries of their friendship wherever she could.

“I don’t have time for your jests, Trixa,” Daegon growled, rubbing at his temple as the beginnings of a headache formed.

“Well, that’s too bad, Eggie,” she replied breezily, leaning against the front of his desk. “Because that witch is ruining my chances of finding my mate.” The nickname hit exactly where she intended. Daegon growled, the sound low and unmistakably dangerous. Satisfaction flickered across Trixa’s face—quickly masked when his gaze hardened, reminding her precisely who she was addressing.

Friend or not, he was still her King.

“We have more pressing concerns than postponing a mating bond ceremony,” Daegon scolded, arms crossing over his broad chest. “If the witch is amplifying her power, time is not a luxury we possess.” Trixa straightened, crouching to gather the scattered maps from the floor from his earlier outburst.

“Since your last attempt didn’t exactly inspire confidence, what’s the plan?” she remarked lightly. “You can’t reason with her kind of Aura.”

“There will be no negotiations,” Daegon replied without hesitation. “For her crimes, the sentence is death.” Trixa arched a brow, studying him carefully. The wit faded from her pale blue eyes.

“You know her kind won’t respond well.” Trixa’s voice cut through the silence, pragmatic as ever.

“The vampires have been a plague for too long,” Daegon replied flatly. “My father eradicated every covenant we knew about. The rest learned to hide. Fewer now, yes—but still dangerous.”

“Yes, but,” Trixa continued, unperturbed, tilting her head. “the Dark Aura is… unprecedented. There hasn’t been a vampire Aura in centuries. To them, she’s a miracle. Practically their messiah.” she pointed out. Daegon’s mouth twisted in distaste.

Aura power was not something claimed—it was bestowed. A blessing from Gaia and Celeena, Earth Mother and Moon Goddess. It was meant for balance, not excess. The vampires had lost that right long ago, stripped of divine favour after centuries of abuse, gluttony, and slaughter. Why one had been gifted now was a question Daegon did not like contemplating.

“Messiah or not,” he retorted darkly, “she will not be allowed to continue tearing through my lands.” Trixa studied him for a moment before changing tack.

“So…our visit to the Blue Moon Pack. Diplomatic excursion, or is this where you finally crush one of the last few defiant packs?” His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and assessing. Always so direct, a quality he valued about her most. She didn’t grovel. Didn’t shower him with compliments or praise like most she-wolves. She spoke her mind on any situation.

“For now, peaceful.” he replied. “The Dark Aura has already cost me too many Lycans and werewolves. If it comes to all out war, the remaining packs will join us out of necessity alone.”

“And if they don’t?” Trixa asked, one brow arching. She already knew the answer. She just enjoyed hearing him say it.

“Then they stand alone, and prepare for slaughter.” Daegon replied without hesitation. He gestured to the map. “I offer unity and protection. The vampires hold no such sentimentality, offering nothing but extinction. They kill without reason, without remorse—and they leave no survivors.” Trixa pursed her lips, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. One immaculately manicured nail traced the red circle marking the large western forest.

“So…” she began lightly, “any luck with the Fae?” Daegon snorted.

“As selfish and insular as the day they were created. They’d rather rot behind their enchanted thicket than remember their duty as protectors of this world.”

“Sooo…” Trixa drawled. “That’s a no.”

“They couldn’t even be bothered to respond,” Daegon muttered, dragging a hand down his face. For the first time, fatigue crept through the cracks in his control.

“And what if,” Trixa spoke carefully, eyes gleaming with mischief, “you happen to find your mate while at the Blue Moon Pack?” Daegon rolled his eyes. She had been pushing that theory for years—claiming a mate bond would amplify his already formidable power. He remained unconvinced. His gaze hardened as he returned to the map.

“If she exists,” he answered, voice calm and absolute, “ I will reject her. I don’t intend to gamble this war on fate.”

Trixa’s lips pursed into a dramatic pout. “You’re being unreasonable, Eggie. You know rejection is excruciating—for both parties.”

“A fleeting rejection pain pales in comparison to what I have endured since birth,” he snapped back. “I will not be weakened by a mate. I have no desire to find her, and no intention of keeping her.”

Trixa straightened, her expression hardening. “Your mate is not a weakness, Daegon. She is your strength. A gift from the Moon Goddess herself. Discarding her so easily could offend both Gaia and Celeena.” his healer warned. Daegon scoffed.

“Considering the list of crimes I’ve committed and still been blessed by the Goddess, I doubt rejecting my mate will be my downfall.” Trixa sighed—long-suffering, and undeniably familiar. This argument was older than most of the packs he ruled.

“Should I ready our bags?” she asked, changing the subject, clearly choosing survival over persuasion. She had her own plans if—when—his mate appeared. Trixa knew rejection would cut deeper, and cause more damage, than Daegon would ever admit, and she had no intention of watching her King fall from his own mulish tendencies.

“No,” Daegon replied, decisive. “Gather my Elite. We travel on foot at first light. Vehicles are too slow. Wasting time is not a luxury we no longer possess.” Trixa groaned, lifting her hands dramatically to inspect them. Daegon raised his eyebrows.

“I just got my nails done.” Long, razor-sharp claws gleamed with vibrant colours accented with glittering polish as she held them out in accusation. “I hadn’t accounted for a run so soon.” She flicked her long pale hair back, one hand settling on her hip. “You’re lucky I love you, Eggie. If you were any other Alpha, I’d be far less accommodating.” She swept from the office with practiced grace, closing the door softly behind her.

Daegon shook his head. If he were any other Alpha, that woman would have reduced their court to rubble by now.

Trixa had been his original choice for Beta—headstrong, brilliant, and a devastatingly powerful Aura. Many Alphas had sought to claim her allegiance, some even daring to court her, to which she all rejected. His father, however, had seen only her gender and deemed it a weakness. He sent her to the Aura Academy for four years, believing it would remove her from contention. During her absence, Daegon had claimed his crown.

Treyton had been the logical replacement. His lineage traced back through generations of powerful Betas, and he trained alongside Daegon until the day the throne was seized. When Daegon overthrew his father, Treyton stood at his side without hesitation.

Loyalty like that was irreplaceable.

When Daegon later summoned Trixa back, there had been a moment—a single, dangerous consideration he allowed himself before burying the notion forever. Had she been his fated mate, he would have accepted the bond without question. Despite his belief that a mate would weaken him as King, Trixa’s power would have strengthened both him and his realm. But his eighteenth year had come and gone without so much as a flicker of attraction, no bond, no pull to his long-time friend.

That absence became his answer.

He would accept no mate.

A non-fated bond was inferior—and worse, dangerous. If a true mate surfaced after such a bond was formed, one would have to die. The Moon Goddess tolerated no substitutes. Daegon exhaled slowly, exhaustion settling into his bones. The Dark Aura lingered at the edges of his thoughts, her motives obscured, her power growing. Whatever she planned, it would not end quietly.

A low growl rolled through his stomach, protesting the neglect of food and water. Even at rest, a Lycan’s metabolism demanded fuel. He cast one final look at the map before turning away, leaving his office and heading toward the kitchens.

Tomorrow, the hunt would continue.