The hefty oak door of the private quarters rattled under three sharp, metallic knocks.
It was dawn.
The pale, cold light of morning filtered through the frost-covered window, casting long, sharp shadows across the room.
Soren stood near the large mahogany bookshelf, his small leather alchemy bag slung across his chest.
He looked at Kaelen, who was standing in front of the full-length mirror, buckling his dark iron shoulder guards over his tunic.
The Alpha looked imposing, dangerous, and completely unbothered by the fact that fifty Enforcers were waiting outside his fortress to take his head.
“You’re taking your sweet time I see,” Soren said, his voice flat, though his fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.
Kaelen didn’t turn around.
He adjusted the silver wolf crest on his chest plate, his golden eyes meeting Soren’s in the mirror’s reflection.
“An Alpha doesn’t rush for uninvited guests.
It makes them think they have power.”
“They have fifty armed warriors and the backing of the High Council,” Soren pointed out, stepping closer.
“They do have power Kaelen.”
“They have numbers,” Kaelen corrected smoothly, turning around his handsome face to him.
His tall, broad frame blocked out the morning light, casting Soren in his shadow.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Kaelen walked over to the bookshelf, reaching for a thick, leather-bound volume on the middle shelf.
He pulled it forward with a heavy clack.
Immediately With a low, grinding sound, the entire central section of the bookshelf swung outward like a door, revealing a narrow, stone-lined corner built straight into the fortress walls.
It was dark, small, and smelled faintly of dust and dry ink.
“In you go, little spell-cutter,” Kaelen said.
Soren looked inside the cramped space, then looked back at Kaelen, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“It’s a closet.”
“It’s a magic-shielded panic room,” Kaelen replied, a faint, amused smirk touching his lips.
“Built by the first Alpha of Blackthorn.
Even Lord Lucian’s strongest spell-binders won’t be able to sense your blood-magic through these stones.”
“And if you get arrested while I’m stuck in a hole?” Soren asked, his bright blue eyes fixing on Kaelen’s face.
“Am I supposed to just sit here until I starve?”
Kaelen stepped into Soren’s space, closing the distance between them until Soren’s back lightly touched the edge of the open stone door.
The sudden heat off the Alpha’s body washed over Soren, cutting through the morning chill of the room.
Kaelen reached out, his large hand resting on the stone right beside Soren’s head, effectively trapping him.
“If I get arrested, the magic key on this inner latch drops automatically,” Kaelen murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly tone.
His golden eyes searched Soren’s face, dark and steady.
“You’ll be able to walk out through the lower tunnels.
But that’s not going to happen.”
“You sound very confident for a man about to face a treason charge,” Soren rasped out, his breath hitching slightly as Kaelen leaned down just a fraction closer.
The sheer magnetic pull of their bond throbbed softly in his chest, making his skin prickle.
“I am confident in my abilities,” Kaelen whispered, his gaze dropping to Soren’s lips for a brief, dangerous second before rising back to his eyes.
“And I’m even more confident that you look stunning when you’re worried about me.”
Soren’s cheeks flared with a sudden, hot flush.
He shoved his palm against Kaelen’s chest armor, feeling the solid, hard iron beneath his hand.
“I am not worried about you.
I am worried about myself being trapped in a wall.”
“Sure you are,” Kaelen chuckled softly, stepping back just enough to give Soren room to breathe.
“Get inside.
The Council is at the lower courtyard gate.”
Soren swallowed hard, stepping backward into the narrow stone alcove.
The space was tight—barely wide enough for him to stand comfortably, with a small stone bench on one side and a tiny spy-slit carved into the high corner of the wall that looked directly into the Great Hall below.
Before pulling it shut, he paused, his golden eyes locking onto Soren’s through the narrow gap.
“Don’t make a sound,” Kaelen said, his playful tone vanishing, replaced by a cold, protective edge.
“No matter what Lucian says down there.
Do you hear me?”
“Just don’t die, Kaelen,” Soren said quietly.
Kaelen gave him a quick, sharp nod.
“Not a chance.”
Kaelen stopped at the edge of the open bookshelf, looking down at the heavy crimson chain binding their wrists.
” and now the chain.” Kaelen looked at Soren like they’d both forgotten about one crucial information.
“You can’t be down in the Great Hall with me, Soren, but if I walk down those stairs, the bond will yank you right out of this wall.”
“I know how my own curse works, Alpha,” Soren said calmly.
He pulled a thin silver needle from his sleeve and brought the tip to his palm, making a quick, precise slice on it.
As a bead of bright crimson blood welled up, Soren pressed his bloody hand flat against the inner stone wall of the hidden alcove.
“Vincit sanguis, distentus nex,” Soren whispered under his breath.
The rose-colored chain between their wrists flared with a sharp, violent light.
The magical link didn’t disappear and instead, it stretched, thinning out until it looked like a thread of spun glass anchored directly to the alcove’s stone.
Soren let out a harsh, ragged breath, his knees buckling slightly as a sudden wave of heat slammed into his chest.
He grabbed the edge of the stone bench to steady himself.
“Soren!” Kaelen caught his shoulder, his brow furrowing in instant concern.
“What did you just do?”
“I anchored the intersection of the chain to this room,” Soren gritted out, his breath coming in shallow hitches as his pulse hammered against his ribs.
“After the blood lotus powers it has become slightly bit powerful.
For now atleast.
So the curse thinks I am still standing three feet behind you.
You can walk anywhere inside the Citadel…
but the magical strain is tied directly to my life force.
So don’t take all day down there.”
Kaelen stared at him, his golden wolf eyes burning with a dark, intense emotion.
He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a drop of cold sweat from Soren’s temple.
“You’re risking a magic backlash for this,” Kaelen murmured softly, his voice dangerously low.
“I’m risking it so Lucian doesn’t see me and chop my head off,” Soren snapped back, forcing his cold, sharp glare to remain steady.
“Now go before the spell drains me completely.”
Kaelen gave him a slow, possessive nod.
“Hold the anchor, little spell-cutter.
I’ll make this fast.”
The bookshelf swung shut with a heavy thud, plunging Soren into near-total darkness.
Inside the hidden alcove, the air was cool and still.
Soren stood motionless for a few seconds, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light filtering through the tiny spy-slit.
He moved quietly toward the bench, his boots making no sound against the stone floor.
Pressing his eye close to the narrow opening in the rock face, Soren got a clear, bird’s-eye view of the Great Hall below.
The massive room was empty for now, lit only by the tall, arched windows and the roaring central fire pit.
High stone pillars lined the sides, and at the far end sat the Alpha’s throne—a massive chair carved from dark mountain granite and draped in heavy wolf furs.
A minute later, the massive double doors at the entrance of the Great Hall burst open.
A dozen guards clad in polished silver armor strode into the room, their heavy boots echoing like thunder against the stone floor.
They lined up in two strict rows, weapons drawn and behind them walked Lord Lucian.
Lucian was a tall, lean man with sharp, aristocratic features and cold, pale gray eyes.
He wore the dark purple robes of the High Council over fine chainmail armor, while his hand rested casually on the hilt of a thin, detailed sword at his hip.
Beside him, four high-level Council spell-binders marched along side, with their hands glowing with faint, defensive runes.
“Kaelen!” Lucian’s sharp, arrogant voice echoed through the empty hall.
“Step forward and account for your crimes against the Council!”
Silence filled the hall for three long, agonizing seconds. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Then, from the raised archway leading from the private living quarters, Kaelen walked out.
He moved with a slow, predatory grace, completely unbothered by the swords pointed in his direction.
He didn’t carry a drawn blade; his hands rested loosely at his sides as he descended the wide stone stairs toward the center of the hall.
“Lord Lucian,” Kaelen said smoothly, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the large room.
“You bring fifty men to my front door in the middle of a snowstorm and break into my Great Hall.
That looks suspiciously like an act of war.”
“Do not play games with me, Alpha,” Lucian sneered, stepping closer to the fire pit.
“We received a direct report from within your own pack that You are harbouring an illegal blood-cutter within these walls—a rogue spell-caster connected to the taboo soul-knot curses.”
Inside the wall not too far from the scene, Soren held his breath, his knuckles turning white against his leather bag.
On the other hand Kaelen didn’t even flinch, then he stopped at the base of the stairs, crossing his broad arms over his chest as he looked down his nose at the Council leader.
“A rogue spell-cutter?” Kaelen repeated, a cold, mocking smile touching his face.
“And whose authority gives you the right to search my private domain based on the rumors of a nameless coward?”
“The authority of the High Council!” Lucian snapped, his pale eyes flashing with anger.
“The laws of the Northern Territories state that any pack hiding an illegal spell-cutter forfeits their right to territorial sovereignty.
Stand aside, Kaelen.
My Enforcers will search every room in this Citadel, starting with your private quarters.”
Kaelen’s smile vanished in an instant.
The air in the Great Hall instantly turned heavy, suffocating, and freezing cold as Kaelen released a fraction of his Alpha aura.
The fire in the central pit flickered wildly, turning dark blue as a low, rumbling growl echoed from deep within Kaelen’s chest.
Even the silver-armored Enforcers stepped back out of reflex, their hands trembling on their sword hilts.
“Step one foot up those stairs, Lucian,” Kaelen said softly, “Just one foot.” his voice dropped into a lethal, terrifying tone that made the stone walls vibrate, “and I will personally feed you to my warhorses.”
Lucian’s jaw clenched tightly.
He swallowed hard, taking half a step back before catching himself.
“You dare threaten a Council member?”
“I am simply stating a fact,” Kaelen replied coldly, stepping forward until he was towering right in front of Lucian.
“This is Blackthorn land.
My ancestors bled for these mountain, you have no trial order, you have no proof, and you have no right to march into my home and demand anything.”
Inside the corner, Soren watched the confrontation through a spy silt hole and although no one could see him, his heart still hammered against his ribs.
‘Goodness!
I can’t believe he’s holding them off using pure intimidation,’
Soren thought, a strange mix of awe and anxiety churning in his stomach.
But Lucian isn’t going to leave empty-handed.
Sure enough, Lucian straightened his robes, forcing a dark, venomous smile back onto his pale face.
“Very well, Alpha,” Lucian said smoothly, his eyes cold as ice.
“If you refuse an immediate search, I hereby invoke the Right of Inspection and under Council law, my garrison and I, will occupy your outer courtyard for three days while the full tribunal travels here from the Capital.
If you attempt to smuggle anyone out of this fortress, it will be treated as an admission of high treason.”
Kaelen stared down at him for three long, tense seconds, his golden wolf eyes burning like hot iron.
“Enjoy the snow in the courtyard, Lucian,” Kaelen said flatly, turning his back on the Council leader and walking calmly back up the stairs.
“It gets very cold at night.”
Ten minutes later, the bookshelf swung open and the moment it opened, the heavy magical anchor on the shelf snapped.
Soren didn’t even have time to step out of the wall when a violent, white-hot pain exploded behind his eyes, making the room tilt sideways.
His knees buckled, giving out completely beneath him.
the Alpha energy this chapter was UNMATCHED!
(•o•) But poor Soren took the full magical strain just to keep them safe, and now he’s down!
Will Kaelen be able to help him before the Council spell-binders sense something’s wrong inside the estate?
Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
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See you in the next Chapter soon