CHAPTER 10
566 Words
Raven’s body still crackled with raw energy as the echoes of the ritual faded. Lucien’s arms wrapped around her waist protectively, but his eyes held a new fear—not of her, but for her.
Dante stood nearby, robe falling off one shoulder, watching her with something reverent. Something dangerous.
“I feel… different,” Raven whispered, flexing her fingers. Sparks of silver lightning danced along her skin.
“You’re more than wolf now,” Morrigan said softly. “You’ve tapped into the ancient blood. The Forgotten Line.”
Lucien frowned. “You mean—”
“She’s not just a hybrid,” the queen cut in. “She’s a convergence. A weapon. A prophecy made flesh.”
Raven turned, heart hammering. “What prophecy?”
Morrigan’s gaze sharpened. “The Prophecy of Fire and Fangs. It speaks of a girl born of war and shadow. Claimed by night and claw. She will either end the blood feud or drown the world in it.”
Raven’s throat tightened. “End the feud… or destroy everything?”
Morrigan stepped closer. “And it says this: One mate must die for the power to remain stable.”
Lucien growled instantly. “No. No f*****g way.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed. “Who decides?”
“She does,” Morrigan said. “The bond is real. But fate demands balance. Two primal forces can’t live within one vessel unless one is sacrificed.”
Raven’s breath hitched. “I just found them. I can’t—”
“You must,” Morrigan said. “Eventually. Or your powers will tear you apart. Mind. Body. Soul.”
Silence fell heavy.
Lucien turned Raven toward him, gripping her shoulders. “I’ll find a way around it. We’ll fight fate.”
Dante stepped forward. “I’d rather burn than watch her suffer.”
Tears blurred Raven’s vision. “I don’t want either of you to die.”
“You may not have a choice,” Morrigan said.
Raven looked between the two—Lucien, her Alpha mate, wildfire and fury. Dante, her vampire prince, shadows and seduction. Both bound to her. Both ready to die for her.
Her voice cracked. “Then I’ll tear down the prophecy myself.”
A beat passed.
Then Morrigan smiled. “Good. Let’s begin.”
---
Later that night…
Raven sat alone on the balcony of the mountain stronghold, wind tugging at her hair. The stars were bleeding tonight.
Dante approached, silent as smoke. He sat beside her, eyes glowing.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” she said honestly.
He offered her a goblet. She sniffed it—not blood. Wine. Bitter. Spiced.
“Lucien is scouting the border,” he murmured. “He’s afraid. He hides it well. But I know.”
Raven swallowed. “And you?”
“I’m already dead, Raven,” Dante said with a twisted smile. “What’s one more death for love?”
She looked at him sharply. “Don’t say that.”
He leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re worth burning for.”
And when he kissed her—slow, deep, lingering—it wasn’t claiming. It was goodbye. Just in case.
Raven didn’t stop him.
Because part of her heart already feared the end was coming. And part of her was starting to wonder…
What if she didn’t have the strength to choose?
- Writer
