The Lost Heiress Of The Bleeding Throne

The palace of EerinHall reeked of old magic and older lies. 

The stench of both permeated the air the moment I stepped out of my black vehicle and onto the moonstone path to the Hall of Accord. 

Even the skies above EerinHall were deceitful-too still and clear. 

The last time the stars shone this brightly, war followed within weeks. 

"Do you feel that?" Liam said, his voice quiet beside me.

"Magic," I growled, my jaw tightening. 

My wolf had always been restless around magic. "It's tightly coiled around here."

He nodded curtly and adjusted his cufflinks. I didn't comment on how tense his shoulders were. 

The Blood Moon Pack were people known for not showing emotion or flinching, not even before the Council.

We stepped into the massive hall where glass domes reflected the moonlight like crystal claws, and the walls shimmered with illusions of the ancient wars. 

The long table gleamed with black wood, carved from a cursed tree said to have been blessed by the Blood God, Aioder. 

The other six chairs surrounding it were already occupied. 

"Alpha Ciaran," said a dry, feminine voice. 

It was Amyra, the vampire queen. Her cold, calculating red eyes locked onto mine with amusement.

"Countess Amyra." I bowed my head slightly, taking a seat at the table. 

Across from me, Zolaiah grunted in acknowledgment.

The ogre king didn't like formalities. His tusks jutted out from chapped lips, and his enormous bulk made his chair creak beneath him.

"Let us begin," Rune Elarion, Princess Regent of the Bleeding Throne, said-her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

She stood at the head of the table, her copper hair braided back, the circlet above her head burning with starfire. 

Rune-young, but as deadly as any of us sitting here.

"Who will go first," she said, finally taking her seat.

"I'll start," Amyra offered, her blood-red lips curving into a smile. 

"Three more covens have gone dark this month.

It seems the witches are vanishing. Not running but vanishing. 

They leave no trace, no blood and no magic signature behind."

"Then who is stealing them?" Aludria, the naga priestess, hissed, her tail coiled beneath her, eyes narrowed at the glowing scrolls laid out before us. 

"Exactly what we're here to discuss," Rune said. "The supernatural realm is unraveling."

"The barriers weaken," Oleus, the silver-haired high elf, said, finally looking up. 

"I felt the Earth pulse beneath the veil. Something larger than what we can handle is coming." 

He took the cup placed in front of him and poured himself another cup of wine before taking a sip.

Zolaiah struck his chest with a fist. "Bring it on. We'll face it head-on."

"Do you think this is a fight you can crush with fists?" Daryus said, his eyes now open, molten and unfathomable. 

He had been unnaturally still when we first arrived, his golden scales glinting faintly at the corner of his temples. 

"These are not brawn beasts. This is old. Deep. Forbidden."

"And what of the sicknesses?" Liam asked, speaking up for the first time. "Border packs are reporting fevers that no healing rune can rectify. 

Wolves are turning savage and their minds are breaking."

"That's not a sickness," Aludria said. That's a possession. Someone is using their bodies as a vessel."

Rhidian, the merman ambassador, thin-faced and smelling of sea-salt, dropped the goblet he held and leaned forward, his gaze serious now. 

"Our waters have gone cold. Sirens are losing their voices. 

My people are becoming feral, and I've lost two of my bloodlines already."

"That's impossible," Amyra said, her laugh devoid of humour. "Sirens don't lose their voices."

"They do now," he snarled.

Rune's face remained calm, but her voice dropped a notch. "We're dealing with something organized. And ancient."

"Or," Oleus said smoothly, taking another sip of his wine, "someone is working the strings from behind the curtain, and we are the puppets."

That was when I finally spoke.

"Enough speculation," I said, my voice carrying through the room. There was silence around the table. Even Amyra's smile died.

They listened when I spoke- not because I was the oldest, or wisest, but because I was least afraid to spill blood if offended. 

Not even Zoliah could take me when I was crossed.

"You want theories, I'll give you one," I continued. Something buried is waking. Something even our ancestors feared.

And while we squabble over what to call it, it spreads. Eats the land and twists into something horrifying."

"You're suggesting what?" Amyra asked. "War? Do you think we're ready for that?

"I'm not suggesting war," I replied. Not yet, at least not yet. I'm saying we should stop pretending this is a threat that can be easily contained. 

I'm saying it's time we stop the secrets." 

Rune's eyes lingered on me a moment longer than necessary. 

"There was a prophecy," she spoke slowly. Centuries ago. Of a girl born of the moon and silence. One who would free... and destroy." 

For an unexplainable reason, my heart skipped a beat. I ignored the organ.

"I had never heard of such a prophecy," Daryus said.

"Because it was buried," Rune replied. To keep the realm from destroying itself. The child it spoke of vanished before the century turned."

"And you think this involves her?" Rhidian asked.

"I think," Rune said softly, "we're standing on a time bomb."

The room churned with power. Amyra's cup broke in her hand. Aludria coiled tighter and Zolaiah growled.

I stood.

"I'm done here," I said.

"Sit down, Alpha," Oleus said coldly.

I locked eyes with him. "Make me."

Tension snapped like a whip in the room. I could feel the force of his power bleeding from across the table.

"Enough," Rune growled. "All of you."

I didn't return to my seat. I walked away from the room after giving Rune a slight bow.

Liam trailed silently behind me until we were far from the great hall.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," I growled. "Someone's lying."

Liam's eyebrow rose. "Who do you think it is?" he asked.

"All of them."

We descended the stairs in silence.

I knew something was coming, something that felt awfully wrong.

And I'd be damned if I didn't find out what it was before it reached me first.