Claiming Her Reign

chapter 18

Davon's Pov

I ignored the sharp, insistent chime on my secure wrist communicator—the alert that told me Kelvin and James had just aborted Xian’na’s training session. Isaac would handle it; he was the master of control, and James was the master of brute force. The fact that they were working together meant the outcome was the most strategically sound it could be.

My focus, for now, had to remain on the dark chess board Seraphina had laid out.

I was currently in a small, windowless command bunker deep beneath the Green Moon castle, a space Kelvin had graciously provided for our intelligence work. It was stark, clean, and terrifyingly efficient, smelling of sterile metal and ozone.

Samuel sat opposite me at a sleek, matte-black console. My youngest brother was the quiet force of the group, and his skills lay not in strength or strategy, but in connecting people. His Red Moon network—a vast, ancient web of whispers, trade routes, and deeply loyal informants—was the oldest and most reliable on the continent.

“The problem isn’t the Black Wing Pack, Davon,” Samuel murmured, his voice calm as he reviewed a holographic map showing known rogue encampments. The map was overlaid with Green Moon’s live satellite data, a dizzying blend of old power and new tech. “Jerick is predictable. He’s driven by vengeance and pride. He’s building his force near the Forgotten Peaks, where the terrain is easy to secure but difficult to reinforce. A classic siege position.”

I leaned forward, my knuckles resting on the edge of the console. “The problem is the Serpent,” I corrected, using the name Kelvin had adopted for her. “Seraphina is not a wolf. She doesn't have the instinctual flaws we rely on. We need her origin story. Where did she come from, and how does she know the rituals for siphoning Holy Power?”

The vision Xian’na had shared—the beautiful, dark woman, the inverted cross, the cold intention to usurp the bloodline—had chilled me to the bone. This wasn't a standard wolf war; this was a targeted, ritualistic assassination of Divine power.

“My network has confirmed the Dark Mate Bond,” Samuel continued, his gaze steady. “It was performed in the abandoned Blue Moon temple. Ritualistic use of blood and shadow energy. It gave Jerick a spike in power and Seraphina the direct link she needed to begin the siphon.”

He swiped the holographic screen, bringing up a dossier. The image was grainy, captured by one of Samuel's informants on a back road: Seraphina. Her beauty was undeniable—sharp, intoxicating, and utterly devoid of warmth.

“We’ve traced her movements backward. She appeared roughly three months ago near the desolate edges of the Ironwood Territory—a region known for ancient, forgotten lore, and not much else. No prior lineage, no pack history. It’s like she simply materialized.”

I frowned, tracing the Ironwood region on the map. It was far from the civilized packs, bordered only by empty, cursed land. “A powerful being doesn’t just materialize, Samuel. She was dormant. Or hidden. Check the old Red Moon archives for any reference to shadow entities or ritual magic tied to that region. Focus on anything related to unborn or inverted prophecy.”

Samuel nodded, already sending the query through the secure network. “Isaac believes she is leveraging Jerick’s position to bring her own kind—whatever she is—into this world. The Sacrifice is likely the key to opening that gate. She needs the Holy Wolf’s energy to stabilize the dimensional shift.”

“Precisely. We have to disrupt the ritual before it can be performed,” I asserted. My thoughts flickered momentarily to Xian’na, exhausted and in pain under my brothers’ care. Stay strong, little sister. We are hunting the woman who wants to steal your soul.

A new alert flashed on Samuel’s console, interrupting the low hum of the Green Moon servers. It wasn't Red Moon data; it was a cryptic alert from one of James’s northern patrols—a simple, coded signal indicating a territorial violation.

“James just reported a breach in the outer perimeter of the Northern Peaks,” Samuel read, his calm façade finally breaking into a frown. “It’s a small group, likely spies for Jerick. But they’re not heading toward the castle. They’re heading toward the Ironwood region. They’re carrying large, specialized equipment.”

I stood up, the full, crushing weight of my Alpha duty settling on my shoulders. This wasn't scouting; this was reconnaissance.

“They are looking for something. Something Seraphina needs from her point of origin,” I concluded, tapping the Ironwood border on the map. “Samuel, dispatch two of your most discreet Red Moon trackers. I want eyes on that equipment immediately. If Seraphina needs something from that cursed land, it means she is still vulnerable, and we have a chance to exploit it.”

Xianna's pov

I woke to the overwhelming, clean smell of ozone and disinfectant, and the crushing weight of physical exhaustion. My body felt like a broken suit of armor. Every muscle screamed, and the side of my face where James had struck me throbbed with a dull, rhythmic pain.

I was no longer in the absolute darkness of the Black Box. I was resting on a narrow, high-tech cot, placed discreetly in a corner near Kelvin’s control panel. The harsh, white task lighting illuminated the room, and the silence was absolute.

James was gone. Kelvin stood nearby, watching me with that cold, assessing gaze. Next to him was Hannah, Alpha Kelvin’s mate, who had brought a small, sealed nutrient drink and a sterile towel.

“You collapsed,” Kelvin stated, without preamble or emotion. “A controlled systemic shutdown. James caught you before you hit the ground, preventing major physical damage. You were unconscious for seven minutes.”

I ignored the drink and focused on the terrifying memory of the siphon—the power being ripped from me. I pushed myself up, struggling for air.

“Was that it?” I asked, my voice barely a rasp. The fear was raw and sharp. “Is that the limit? Was that the full measure of the Holy Power? Will I always just… collapse when the true enemy pushes back?”

Hannah stepped forward quickly, putting a steadying hand on my shoulder. Her touch was firm, not comforting, but grounding.

“No, Xian’na, that is not the limit,” Kelvin said, his voice hard with absolute certainty, like a general dismissing a false battle report. He turned fully to face me, his blue eyes intense. “We, your brothers, only inherited a small portion of what you have, Xian’na. Your power, the Holy Bloodline itself, is limitless. It is a constant river. What failed was the dam—the human vessel.”

He gestured to my trembling body. “Your brain initiated a systemic shutdown to prevent the power siphon from killing the human side. It’s a self-preservation measure—a weakness that Seraphina will exploit every time. We need to reinforce the copper wire, little sister. You must learn all of it before your nightmare comes true.”

The weight of his words settled over me, heavier than any of James’s blows. It wasn't my power that was insufficient; it was me.

Hannah knelt down beside the cot, her gaze direct and unwavering. Her voice was firm, carrying the full authority of an Alpha Queen, yet infused with an encouragement that bypassed the military strategy.

“You are the prophecy, the salvation and the queen of all werewolves,” she stated simply. “Your brothers will build a castle around you, but the real war will be fought by you alone. You must do it, Xian’na. No one can do it but only you.”

The combination of Kelvin's cold truth and Hannah's fierce faith was exactly what I needed. I drank the nutrient solution in one gulp and swung my legs off the cot.

“Let’s go,” I said, wincing as I tested my injured leg. “James is waiting.”

Kelvin nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

James was standing in the center of the Black Box when we returned. He was holding a pair of weighted, metal gauntlets. His face was stoic, but his silver eyes held a silent acknowledgment of the shift in my resolve.

“The maid is resting, then?” he challenged.

“The maid is dead,” I replied, matching his cold tone.

We returned to the cycle, but this time, the purpose was different. James struck, and I absorbed the pain, but now I had a singular focus: keeping the silver light perfectly stable, ensuring the "copper wire" didn't melt. We ran drills designed not to test my power, but my endurance to hold that power against constant physical and simulated psychic assault.

We worked until the sun set and rose again outside the castle walls, until the weight of the gauntlets felt like a second skin, and the memory of the siphon was just another controllable stressor. Finally, after a devastatingly focused series of counter-strikes that left him panting heavily, James called an end to the session.

“Enough,” James grunted, stepping away and dropping the gauntlets. The training had pushed us both to the brink. “Your vessel is secure. The maid is silent. You can hold the power.”

He looked toward the entrance, and the massive vault door opened to reveal a new figure: Samuel.

“Kelvin taught you control, and I taught you resilience,” James explained, his voice easing back from the warrior’s roar to the brother’s tone. “But the Shadow Beast is elemental. She controls shadow and void. You need to fight fire with fire, and earth with earth.”

James clapped me roughly on the shoulder, a brutal gesture that felt, incredibly, like respect.

“Wait for Samuel to return. He will teach you to command your elemental power. He has knowledge that none of the rest of us possess.”