The Ancient Prophecy: The Alpha King’s Human Mate

Chapter 7: The Blackened Vow

The infirmary was a flurry of activity, but Alaric refused to let anyone touch me. He sat by my bed, his hand never leaving mine, while General Cassian and the high-ranking officers stood at the foot of the bed, delivering reports of the Northern invasion.

"They’ve taken the Iron Pass, my King," Cassian said, his voice grim. "The Frost-Wolf Alpha, Viktor, is leading the charge. But it’s Isabella who is the real threat. She’s using the Rot to turn our own fallen warriors against us. We’re fighting a war where the enemy only grows stronger with every casualty we take."

Alaric didn't look at them. He was staring at the black moonstone on my finger. "What happened to the ring, Cassian? It was supposed to be a protector."

Cassian stepped closer, his brow furrowed. "I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s as if the ring didn't just store the curse—it absorbed it. It’s saturated, my King. If Lady Mira keeps wearing it, it might start poisoning her instead."

"Then take it off," Alaric commanded.

Cassian reached for my hand, but the moment his fingers brushed the stone, a shock of black electricity threw him across the room. He slammed into a rack of medical supplies, his hand smoking.

"It’s soul-bound," I whispered, finally finding my voice. I sat up, feeling a strange, hollow coldness in my chest. "The ring... it won't come off. Not until the job is done."

"What job, Mira?" Alaric asked, his eyes full of concern.

"The voice..." I looked at him, and for a second, my eyes flickered with a violet light. "It told me the Sun has to set so the Moon can bleed. Alaric, Isabella isn't the leader. There’s something else. Something older."

Alaric gripped my shoulders. "Listen to me. I don't care about prophecies or ancient voices. I care about you. We are going to the North, and we are going to end this. Together."

"You can't take her to the front lines!" Cassian protested, rubbing his injured hand. "She’s the target! If Viktor gets his hands on her, he’ll have the power to destroy the entire continent!"

"She’s safer with me than anywhere else," Alaric snapped. "Prepare my personal guard. We leave in one hour."

As the officers hurried out, Alaric turned back to me. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was desperate and possessive. "I spent twenty years dying in the dark, Mira. I won't let you go back there. If the world has to burn to keep you safe, then let it burn."

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to feel safe in his arms. But as we walked toward the departure courtyard, I saw a figure standing on the balcony above us.

It was Jaxson.

He was dressed in a simple servant’s tunic, his face bruised and battered. He had been stripped of his rank and forced into labor after the arena incident. He watched us with a hatred so pure it felt like a physical weight.

He didn't say a word. He just tapped his chest, where a faint, black vein was beginning to pulse under his skin.

He had taken the Rot. He had made a deal with the darkness just for a chance to get revenge.

As the carriage pulled away, Jaxson whispered into the wind: "Enjoy your King while you can, Mira. Because when the night comes, I’m the one who’s going to tear your heart out."