CHAPTER 16 — The Awakening That Shouldn’t Have Happened
1984 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not even after Caelum left me alone in his private chambers—after he closed the warded door behind him with the kind of reluctance that burned itself into my skin.
He said he’d be back.
He said the palace wasn’t safe.
He said tonight was only the beginning.
But then the door clicked shut, and for the first time since meeting him, I was left alone with my own thoughts.
Thoughts I didn’t want.
Thoughts I couldn’t outrun.
Aurelin.
Bond.
Prophecy.
Destroy him.
Save him.
The words circled in my head like vultures.
I paced the room—its silent beauty stifling instead of calming. The balcony doors showed a moonlit forest, the shadows shifting in a way that made me feel watched even from behind glass.
Everything was wrong.
Everything was spiraling.
I ran my hands through my hair, breathing hard.
“I can’t do this…” I whispered to the empty room.
But the room didn’t listen.
The walls didn’t answer.
My blood did.
A sudden pulse—hot, sharp, electric—shot through me so violently I gasped and stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of a table.
“What—”
Another pulse.
Stronger.
My fingers burned.
My heartbeat roared.
My vision blurred for a moment—just long enough for the world to tilt.
Then I felt it.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Power.
Ancient.
Familiar.
Terrifying.
“No,” I whispered. “Not now—”
But my blood didn’t care.
A soft, amber glow flickered across my skin—so faint I almost convinced myself I imagined it.
Almost.
My breath stuttered. “Oh no…”
Not again.
Not now.
Not while Caelum was gone.
“Stop,” I whispered to myself, gripping the table so hard my knuckles whitened. “Please stop—”
But the glow intensified.
My breath quickened.
My pulse raced.
Aurelins didn’t choose their awakenings.
Their power chose them.
And mine had decided tonight was the night it wanted to be felt.
A sudden knock shattered my panic.
“Open.”
Caelum’s voice.
Firm. Low. Too calm.
Relief hit me like a wave—but fear crashed right behind it.
If he saw me glowing—
If he saw what was happening—
If he saw what I was becoming—
He didn’t wait for permission. The door opened sharply, wards shimmering as he stepped through.
His expression softened the moment he saw me—
and then stiffened the moment he sensed something else.
Something wrong.
He locked the door behind him, his movements slow. Controlled. Dangerous.
“What’s happening?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing,” I said fast—too fast.
His eyes narrowed. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m f–fine.”
“You’re glowing.”
My stomach dropped. “Caelum—”
He stepped forward.
Not like a king.
Not like an alpha.
Like a predator that scented blood.
He stopped only a breath in front of me.
“Show me your hands,” he whispered.
I curled them into fists behind my back. “No.”
His jaw flexed. “I said show me.”
“I can’t.”
He took another step, and the air thickened around us.
“Why?” he asked, voice low.
“Because I don’t know what’s happening,” I whispered. “And I don’t want you to see it.”
His expression shifted—something dark and pained crossing his face.
“You think I fear your power?”
“No. I think you’ll blame yourself.”
His breath hitched.
And then—slowly—he reached behind me and gently took my closed fists in his hands.
“Let me see,” he whispered.
I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want him to see the danger he’d tied himself to.
But Caelum’s voice was soft, steady, anchored in something strange and tender.
“You don’t face this alone,” he murmured. “Not anymore.”
My hands trembled.
My fingers slowly unfurled.
And his breath stopped.
Amber light pulsed faintly under my skin—running through the veins of my wrists, spreading upward like gold threads weaving themselves into me.
Aurelin power.
Awakening.
Alive.
“Oh,” he exhaled, voice cracking with something I’d never heard before.
Not fear.
Not awe.
Recognition.
“You’re waking…” he whispered. “It’s happening.”
“I don’t want this,” I said, panic rising in my voice. “I don’t know what’s happening, I can’t control it—”
Caelum grabbed my face gently but firmly, forcing my gaze to his.
“You’re not dying,” he soothed. “You’re not breaking. You’re awakening. It was supposed to happen slowly—but your blood reacted to danger tonight. It reacted to the corrupted wolf. It reacted to me.”
“That’s the problem,” I whispered.
He froze.
“What do you mean?”
“My powers shouldn’t react to you,” I said shakily.
He blinked. Once. Then again—slowly, like the meaning was sinking in.
“Your blood,” he said, voice low, “recognizes mine.”
I swallowed hard. “I think so.”
His pupils expanded.
His breath deepened.
A low growl vibrated in his chest—not angry, not violent.
Instinctive.
Bonded.
“Oh gods,” he whispered, stepping back like the realization physically shoved him. “It’s happening.”
“What is?”
“The prophecy,” he whispered. “The beginning of it. The blood recognition. The bond forming. The awakening.”
“No,” I said. “That can’t be what this is—”
“It is,” he said. “It’s the first sign.”
I shook my head, panic rising. “If it’s the first sign, then what’s next?”
He looked at me.
Really looked.
“Your senses will sharpen,” he said quietly. “Your instincts will flare. And then…”
“And then what?” I whispered.
“And then your blood will choose.”
“Choose what?”
He exhaled shakily.
“Whether you bind me…
or destroy me.”
The room tilted.
“No,” I whispered. “No. I’m not choosing that—”
“You won’t get a choice,” he said quietly. “It’s the bond. It’s instinct. It’s your ancestry.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “What if I choose wrong?”
His expression softened—real fear flickering in his eyes.
“Then my wolf dies,” he said softly. “And with him… the king.”
My breath shattered. “Caelum—”
“Look at me,” he whispered.
I did.
“If your blood decides I am unworthy, if your instincts reject me… I die.”
“I don’t want that.”
He stepped closer again—slowly, carefully—until the heat of him wrapped around me.
“Then don’t fear your power,” he whispered. “Fear mine.”
“Yours?” I breathed.
His hand slid to my waist—gentle but firm—as though grounding me in place.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Because if your blood chooses me… then every part of me—wolf and man—will belong to you.”
My pulse stuttered painfully.
“Belong?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Completely. Absolutely. Irrevocably.”
My skin tingled. My heart raced.
“And if the palace senses that,” he added darkly, “war starts in the morning.”
Everything inside me twisted.
“What am I supposed to do?”
His hand slid up to my face again, cupping my cheek.
“Stay close,” he murmured. “Stay with me.”
“That doesn’t stop the prophecy.”
“No,” he said softly. “But it stops the palace. It stops the council. It stops Valerius.”
Fear shot through me. “Valerius?”
Caelum’s entire expression darkened.
“He knows,” Caelum whispered. “He saw your glow earlier. He smelled it. He saw how my wolf reacted.”
“Reacted how?”
He swallowed.
“When your aura flared,” he murmured, “my wolf didn’t just recognize it…”
He leaned in.
“…he bowed.”
My breath caught.
“That’s not normal,” I whispered. “Wolves don’t bow to Aurelins.”
“No,” Caelum said darkly. “Not unless the Aurelin has begun choosing.”
I went still.
“No,” I whispered. “I haven’t chosen anything.”
“Your blood has,” he whispered.
My heart hammered. “Caelum—”
He pulled back slightly—just enough to study my expression.
“Tell me,” he said softly, “when I touch you… does your power quiet?”
I swallowed. “Yes.”
“When I leave… does it flare?”
My breath caught. “Yes.”
“When you think I’m in danger… does something inside you rise?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I don’t know why.”
His eyes softened.
“I do.”
“What?”
“It’s the bond,” he murmured. “It’s choosing.”
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t want to choose.”
“You already have.”
My blood froze.
“No I haven’t—”
“You have,” he said gently. “Your power responds to me. Not Valerius. Not the guards. Not the wolves. Me.”
“I don’t want fate to decide—”
“This isn’t fate,” he murmured. “This is blood instinct.”
I stepped back.
He followed—slowly, like he couldn’t help it.
“Caelum—”
“You’re choosing me,” he said softly. “And you don’t even see it.”
“No,” I whispered. “That can’t be true.”
“It is,” he said. “Because when I touched you tonight, your awakening stopped.”
I froze.
He stepped closer, chest rising and falling.
“When I pulled away,” he added, voice low, “it surged out of control.”
“That… doesn’t prove anything.”
“Yes,” he whispered, “it does.”
His hand slid to the back of my neck.
My power quieted instantly.
The amber glow faded like smoke.
My blood stilled.
My breath steadied.
I stared at him in shock.
“Oh gods…” I whispered. “It’s true.”
Caelum swallowed—eyes darkening into something raw and dangerous.
“You are mine,” he whispered, “and my wolf knows it.”
“Caelum…”
“And you,” he whispered, sliding his forehead against mine, “are choosing me, even if you don’t want to.”
My heart squeezed painfully.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“So am I,” he admitted.
My breath shook. “What happens now?”
His voice was low. Hoarse. Terrifyingly gentle.
“Now… I help you awaken. Properly. Safely. Before someone else forces the bond in the wrong direction.”
My pulse raced. “Who would do that?”
“Valerius,” he said darkly. “And the council. And anyone who wants the Aurelin throne to rise again.”
My blood chilled. “Throne?”
Caelum froze.
Too late.
“You said throne,” I whispered. “What did you mean?”
He exhaled slowly.
“Your ancestors,” he murmured, “didn’t follow kings.”
I swallowed.
“They were kings.”
Silence.
Sharp.
Heavy.
Horrifying.
“Caelum,” I whispered, “what are you saying?”
He looked at me with a mix of awe and dread.
“I’m saying…” he murmured, “…that an Aurelin heir doesn’t just awaken.”
My heart hammered.
“They rise.”
The world tilted.
And Caelum reached out to steady me—
but this time…
I didn’t pull away.
⸻
- Writer
