Chapter Ten (The Name i Cannot Forget)
910 Words
The wind howls outside her window, but Luna’s skin burns hotter than the fire in the hearth.
No… not Luna.
The name rises again from the depths of her dreams like a song she once knew by heart but forgot.
“Seraphina… Nytheria.”
She gasps, sitting up in bed. Her shirt sticks to her skin with sweat. The crescent mark on her shoulder pulses, faintly glowing beneath the cotton.
The dream was different this time. It wasn’t just shadows and whispers. She saw the throne room—or what used to be one. It burned. Blood stained the white floors. A woman stood before her, cloaked in silver, calling her daughter.
The face is gone the moment she tries to focus. But the name lingers. It feels too big to say aloud. Too dangerous.
A knock at her door.
“Luna?”
His voice. Deep. Tired. Rough like gravel.
“Are you awake?”
She rises and opens the door. Alpha Zayn stands there, his shirt ripped at the collar, his arm bleeding.
“Zayn!” she gasps. “You’re hurt.”
He doesn’t wait for an invitation. He stumbles into her room, one hand pressed to his side. “I’m fine,” he lies, gritting his teeth.
“No, you’re not.” She shuts the door and guides him to sit. “What happened?”
“I went to the eastern border,” he mutters. “Another attack. A rogue pack… but they were organized. Almost like they knew where to strike.”
She gently pulls his arm aside, inspecting the gash. “You need stitches.”
He looks at her—really looks at her. “Something’s wrong,” he says, voice low. “They weren’t just rogues. One of them… he smelled like you.”
Her hands freeze. “What?”
“They carried wolfsbane,” Zayn continues. “And they had your scent on them. Not just a hint. Like they were tracking you.”
Luna backs away slowly. “You think I led them here?”
“No,” he growls, eyes flashing. “But someone knows who you are. More than you do. And they’re coming for you.”
She presses a hand to her mark, still glowing. “Then I’m not safe here.”
“You’re safe with me,” he snaps, standing even as his wound stretches and bleeds. “I won’t let anyone touch you.”
She swallows hard. “Zayn, there’s something else. I think I remember my name.”
He stiffens. “Say it.”
“Seraphina,” she whispers. “Seraphina Nytheria.”
He blinks. The name strikes him like lightning. “That… can’t be. That’s the name of—”
“A princess,” she finishes, her voice cracking. “From a lost kingdom. My dreams… they’ve been showing me fire. A crown. Someone calling me that name.”
Zayn steps closer, his scent thick and heady. Protective. Fierce. “If that’s who you are… then they’re not just after you, Seraphina. They’re afraid of you.”
She meets his gaze, her chest heaving. “Why?”
“Because you’re powerful,” he murmurs. “More than any of us guessed.”
The space between them closes like magic. He reaches for her face, wiping a tear that slides down her cheek.
“You’re not just a rogue,” he says. “You’re something ancient.”
Her lips part. The air turns heavy.
He leans in—close, too close. His breath dances across her mouth. “Seraphina…”
She melts into the name.
But just as his lips brush hers, the door slams open.
“Alpha!”
Both turn, startled. One of Zayn’s warriors stands there, panting.
“What?” Zayn snaps, stepping in front of Seraphina protectively.
“There’s been a breach… again. Near the river. And… something else. We found this.”
He holds up a black piece of cloth. Torn. Stained with something red… but not blood. It shimmers faintly.
Seraphina’s knees weaken. “That was in my dream.”
Zayn grabs the cloth. His eyes narrow. “They’re not attacking randomly. They’re sending messages.”
He looks at her. “And they want you to remember.”
Later that night, Seraphina lies awake. Zayn’s scent still lingers in the room. Their almost-kiss replays in her mind like a drumbeat.
But something else keeps her awake. A note left on her windowsill.
Just five words.
“You are not safe here.”
Her blood runs cold.
She turns the note over. No signature. No scent. Nothing.
But her mark flares again. And a memory crashes into her mind—
A man in a blood-red cloak standing beside a throne.
“Bring her to me alive,” he had said, in the dream.
Now she knows.
That wasn’t a dream.
It was a memory.
At the same time, across the pack lands, deep in the forest…
A man kneels before a shadowed figure. Red eyes gleam beneath a hood.
“She remembers,” the man whispers. “The name. The dreams. The power.”
The hooded figure laughs. Cold. Sharp.
“Good,” he hisses. “Let her awaken. Let her believe she’s safe.”
He turns toward a glowing orb on a pedestal. The moonstone pulses inside it.
“When the time is right,” he says, “we will take her back. And the kingdom will rise again… in blood.”
- Writer
