Chapter Seven: The Shadow King
The wind howled like a wounded beast through the obsidian towers of Dreadmere Keep. The air was thick with dark magic ancient, hungry, alive.
Ruvan stood at the heart of the storm.
The chamber around him was carved from black stone and laced with veins of crimson crystal, pulsing like a living thing. A massive throne loomed behind him, forged from bone and steel, crowned with the antlers of a fallen moon-beast.
He wore no crown, for he needed none. He was born of darkness, son of the Forgotten God. He was power made flesh.
And tonight, he was angry.
"A blood oath," he growled, his voice low and lethal. "The girl has accepted it."
The shadow priest before him trembled. "Yes, my king. The silver pendant has chosen her."
Ruvan's crimson eyes narrowed. "That cannot be. She was not meant to survive the awakening."
"She is stronger than we anticipated," the priest whispered. "The prophecy"
"I care nothing for the prophecy," Ruvan snapped. "Prophecies are chains for those too weak to break them."
The room trembled with his fury.
He moved to the scrying mirror at the far end of the chamber, a pool of dark water swirling with images.
Selena's face surfaced in the reflection her white hair glowing, the pendant burning against her chest.
"She doesn't know what she carries," Ruvan murmured. "Not yet."
The priest nodded. "But she will soon. And when she does…"
"She will fight me," Ruvan finished.
And he smiled.
"She will lose."
Ruvan paced the length of the chamber, boots echoing like thunder.
"She's bonded to Kael now," the priest added carefully. "He was supposed to die in the purge."
Ruvan stopped. "Kael is a fool. Still clinging to the light."
He turned slowly. "But he's useful. His blood carries the mark of the fallen guardians."
The priest dared a question. "Do you still intend to use him, my king?"
"Oh, I intend much more than that."
Ruvan stepped to a high window, looking out over the wastelands. Storm clouds gathered, snarling with lightning. The time was drawing near. The veils between realms thinning.
"She has the blood of the white wolf," he said quietly. "But she doesn't understand it. She thinks it's a gift. A blessing."
He laughed, the sound low and cold.
"It's a curse."
In a smaller chamber, deep beneath the keep, a prisoner stirred.
Bound by runes and shadowsteel, the vampire witch Velra writhed in pain.
Ruvan descended the steps alone, the air growing colder with each stride. She raised her head as he entered, blood dripping from her lips.
"You fear her," Velra hissed. "The girl."
Ruvan crouched in front of the cage. "Fear is not the word, witch."
"She will destroy you."
"She will kneel," he corrected.
Velra's red eyes narrowed. "She's not like the others. She is born of light and pain. Her heart is untouched."
"Then I will touch it," Ruvan said, his voice like silk over knives. "Twist it. Break it. Make her mine."
Velra laughed bitterly. "You don't understand love, do you?"
"I understand that love can become a weapon."
Ruvan stood and turned away, shadows coiling around his frame.
"Her power will feed the Ritual. Her blood will open the gate."
"And if she resists?"
Ruvan didn't answer.
Instead, he looked toward the dark altar at the chamber's end. A slab carved with runes older than memory.
He would summon the Bound Flame soon. The ancient beast that slept beneath the mountain would rise once more and Selena's soul would be the key.
Later that night, Ruvan stood before his army.
Thousands of creatures filled the ruined courtyard shifters twisted by shadow, beasts with glowing red eyes, cloaked assassins, and highborn traitors who had turned from the light.
He raised his hand and the crowd fell silent.
"She has awakened," he declared. "The white wolf lives again."
A murmur of unease swept through them.
"But she is not your savior," Ruvan said, voice rising like a storm. "She is a girl—fragile, foolish. And she carries something that belongs to me."
He paused, letting the silence thicken.
"We will take it. We will take her. And when the moon bleeds, the world will kneel."
Cheers rang out, dark and wild.
Ruvan raised his sword, carved from star-bone and soaked in the blood of gods.
"Tonight, we move. First Blackridge. Then the lands beyond. Until the last flame dies and the world is mine."
Back in his private chamber, Ruvan summoned the wraith called Zeth.
"You failed me once," Ruvan said as the shadow knelt before him. "Do not do so again."
Zeth's voice was little more than a breath. "I will bring her to you, my king."
"Alive," Ruvan said.
Zeth nodded.
Ruvan stared once more into the scrying mirror. This time, he saw Kael standing beside Selena, their hands almost touching. There was longing in their eyes, and something that made Ruvan's throat burn.
Love.
A dangerous thing.
"Break them," Ruvan said to Zeth. "Shatter whatever bond holds them. Make him bleed for her. And make her doubt him."
Zeth vanished into shadow.
Ruvan stood in silence for a long moment, fingers curling into fists.
He had ruled the darkness for centuries. Conquered kingdoms. Broken saints and heroes alike.
But never had he encountered someone like her.
Selena of the white wolf blood.
Moon-born.
Heartfire.
"You are not ready for me," he whispered, watching her sleep through the mirror. "But I am ready for you."
Far away, in Blackridge, Selena jolted awake, cold sweat coating her skin.
A voice had echoed in her dream.
A whisper like ice.
"You are mine."
She clutched the pendant, its pulse erratic.
Kael stirred beside her. "Another vision?"
She nodded, breath shallow. "He saw me. He spoke."
Kael sat up, eyes hardening. "Ruvan?"
She looked at him, fear and determination in her eyes.
"He's coming."