The Alpha’s Bone Archivist

Chapter Three: Sacrifice Number 13

The Alpha’s fingers, cold and unyielding, wrapped around my shoulder with a terrifying, vice-like grip. Jason pinned my fragile body against the freezing stone wall of the secret archive, pressing so hard I feared my spine and ribcage would shatter under the sheer weight of his monstrous strength. His warm, ragged breaths, fueled by pure fury, lashed against my face, carrying the distinct scent of rain and wild forests that marked him as an Alpha. In that fleeting second, his golden eyes, which usually struck terror into the hearts of everyone, shifted into a dark, burning volcanic hue. They were like two embers of fire piercing the depths of my gaze, digging into my very soul, searching for an answer to the maddening riddle that had shaken his entire existence and made his inner beast roar in absolute madness within his broad chest.

The fated mate… The words echoed in my mind like a shattering, thunderous reverberation, striking the walls of my skull and leaving me in a state of utter numbness. How could an ordinary human girl—poor, destitute, and helpless like me, a girl with no status or magical lineage—be the fated mate of the most powerful, ruthless, and vicious Alpha in the entire university of St. Damas? I had always heard stories of fated mates, but they were always reserved for powerful werewolves, never for human girls living on the fringes of existence. Yet, the greatest and most terrifying shock was not the revelation of this mating bond; it was the horrifying, lethal accusation he hurled at my face like a ticking time bomb. The Luna’s energy… that legendary royal power which historical records claimed had withered and died a century ago. He was accusing me of stealing it!

"I… I really don’t know what you are talking about! I swear I don't understand anything!" My voice left my trembling lips choked and raspy, while hot tears burned my eyelids and carved their way down my cheeks from the sheer physical fear and psychological agony consuming me. I tried to gather my shattered resolve and continued in a pleading tone, "I am just a poor student who barely secured a scholarship! I swear by everything sacred, I have never heard of this Luna before in my life, and I don't even know how my feet guided me into this dark archive!"

"You lie! I can hear your racing heartbeat exposing your deception!" Jason roared in my face. His deep, resonant voice vibrated with a devastating wrath, unleashing a wave of raw aura that made the glassware and oil lamps resting on the nearby wooden tables rattle violently, nearly crashing to the floor. He stepped closer, until mere terrifying inches separated his face from mine, forcing me to inhale the scorching heat of his body. He continued, his eyes scanning the contours of my face, the details of my eyes, and the veins of my neck with the meticulous precision of a hunter: "Your intoxicating scent… your strange magical aura that surged through my veins like fire the moment you touched me… it is the exact same pure, royal aura documented in the ancient, sacred chronicles of my bloodline. No mortal human, weak and destined for death like you, could carry such overwhelming magical purity unless she were a wicked witch who stole the energy of the dead, or unless she had performed a—"

His words cut off abruptly mid-sentence, and his sharp, blade-like gaze shifted slowly toward the old wooden drawer number 300, which still stood slightly ajar right behind my back. In those fleeting seconds, I felt his massive frame stiffen. He tried to shove me aside with brute force to see what the drawer concealed, but in a subconscious reflex driven by pure visceral dread, I clung to his clothes and the leather of his jacket with two trembling fists. I remembered what had happened in the first and second chapters; I remembered that mysterious word that had always haunted me. I never wanted him to see what lay inside that cursed drawer. I never wanted him to see my skull… that skull which carried the exact same fresh essence and strange scent, steeped in the details of my historical birthmark.

Yet, my frail human strength meant absolutely nothing against his ruthless power as an Alpha. He cast me aside with a single hand as easily as if I were a dry leaf in a storm. His large, vein-lined fist extended, gripping the heavy, dust-covered handle of the wooden drawer, pulling it completely open with a single jerk that produced a sharp, agonizing creak.

The faint, yellowish glow of the oil lamp in his hand poured into the dark, deep hollow of the drawer. At that moment, Jason’s entire body froze as if he had been turned into a statue of stone, and the breath completely vanished from his broad chest, which ceased its rise and fall. In absolute bewilderment, he stared at that porcelain-white, polished human skull resting arrogantly upon a cushion of luxurious black velvet inside the drawer. At first, signs of deep confusion and glaring questions washed over his stern features. But when he leaned his head down, scrutinizing the mark intricately carved behind the right ear of the skull—that strange notch taking the precise shape of a crescent moon—he turned his head with a slow, terrifying deliberation to look at the side of my neck, where the exact same historical birthmark and crescent moon resided on my skin. The blood drained entirely from his face, and his anger was replaced by a pure, genuine terror—a terror I had never once seen on the face of an Alpha, a terror that shattered the foundations of his absolute dominance.

"This… this is impossible. It defies all reason," Jason whispered, his powerful voice cracking and breaking for the first time since I had met him. His long, trembling fingers reached out slowly, as if he feared he might burn, to touch the ice-cold surface of the bone. "This skull… it isn’t just some forgotten, ancient relic. It is still entirely fresh, carrying your exact spiritual imprint and genetic aura! How can your bones be buried in this forbidden, secret archive for a whole century while you stand here before me, alive and breathing, in your own flesh, blood, and body heat?!"

I parted my lips, trying to find any words to speak, to scream in his face and tell him that I was just as terrified, disoriented, and lost as he was, without a single answer. But suddenly, before a sound could escape me, our words and heartbeats were cut short by a faint, cold, and mocking laugh. It was the hoarse, sinister chuckle of an old man, echoing hauntingly from between the deep, shadowed corridors of the archive, sending a freezing shiver straight down my spine.

"Because she is not just an ordinary student who stumbled upon a scholarship, Lord Jason… and because her feet did not bring her to this place by mere coincidence."

We spun around in terror, turning sharply toward the sudden source of the voice. From amidst the shadows of the massive, dust-laden stone pillars, appeared Mr. Arthur, the old archivist. But at this moment, he did not look like the weak, frail, and hunched old man I had seen cleaning the shelves earlier. Instead, he stood remarkably erect and imposing, his sunken eyes beneath thick brows gleaming with a vibrant, sinister crimson glow. In his hand, he held a heavy, ancient leather-bound book, covered entirely in dark runes and deeply carved magical symbols.

"Mr. Arthur?!" I gasped in a tone filled with dread and astonishment, instinctively taking a step back until my spine pressed against Jason’s chest, completely unaware that my frightened instincts had begun to view this ruthless, beastly Alpha as my sole protector and sanctuary amidst this consuming madness.

Jason moved instantly with a protective surge and dominant Alpha instinct, stepping completely in front of me, using his massive, impenetrable frame as a solid human shield to block me entirely from the old man’s malicious gaze. He roared in a terrifying pitch that shook the very foundations of the room: "Arthur! What the hell is going on here?! What kind of filthy game and conspiracy are you running in my pack’s archive behind my back?!"

"This is not my game, Alpha… this is the great prophecy of the university you swore an oath to serve and protect," Arthur said with a wicked, sickening smile that exposed his decaying, yellowed teeth. He continued, raising the magical book high into the air: "The twelve students who were meticulously chosen and brought here before you, Mya, were nothing more than a mere cover and a smokescreen to avert suspicion. The university never needed ordinary archivists. The university was waiting for, and luring in, 'Sacrifice Number 13'. The girl born anew from the ashes of the ancient Luna, carrying her exact bones, her exact body, and her exact cursed soul that was crushed by ancient damnations!"

My eyes widened in sharp horror, and I stared at Jason’s back, watching the muscles of his shoulders and spine ripple and tense violently as he prepared to spring forward and tear the old man to shreds.

The old man, Arthur, continued in a rapid tone laced with absolute mania and sheer madness: "By opening drawer number 300 with your living hand, and by letting your fresh blood mingle with the blood of your fated Alpha mate, the components of the ancient ritual are finally complete! The skull will now begin to drain your current life to reclaim its former glory, triggering the opening of the gates of Hell buried beneath the foundations of St. Damas University. The dark Luna shall return to devour this false world and destroy your pack!"

Suddenly, before Jason could take a single step or lung forward to rip him apart, Arthur raised both hands toward the ceiling and chanted an incantation in a sharp, rapid, and terrifying tongue, the likes of which I had never heard before. In a single, blinding second, the oil lamp in Jason’s hand died out on its own, and strange black flames erupted along the stone walls. This was instantly followed by a massive, deafening crash that shook the ground beneath our feet—it was the sound of the colossal, iron main gates of the archive slamming shut with excessive violence, locking from the outside with an absolute, indomitable magical force.

The entire place plunged into a thick, absolute, and suffocating darkness, like a pitch-black tomb. In that stifling void, nothing could be heard except the old man's hysterical laughter fading away, leaving behind a echoing resonance that declared the room entirely empty of him. All that remained was the frantic pounding of my terrified heart and the heavy, accelerated thumping of Jason’s chest, while the skull resting inside drawer 300 slowly began to glow with a faint, ominous, and blood-red light, bleeding into the darkness...