Would she have stayed if he had told her the truth sooner? If he had confessed everything before they left the tunnels, would Evelyne have believed him? Or would she have seen it as a betrayal, a manipulation designed to break her?
It didn’t matter now. Not as Cillian’s fingers tightened around her throat. Not as Vaelora began to chant, her voice rising in a dark, rhythmic cadence he believed to be the start of the ritual sacrifice.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Evelyne whispered to her brother.
Kaldrek’s primal instinct ignited like wildfire.
He twisted toward the Noskari at his throat and lunged without hesitation. His fangs sank deep into flesh, tearing and shredding with savage precision. He wasn’t thinking, only reacting, only trying to draw their attention. If Cillian needed to kill someone, let it be him. Let it benow.
Chains groaned as Kaldrek pulled against them with furious strength. One of the Noskari stumbled, unprepared for the sudden force. Kaldrek seized the moment, driving forward with a snarl and sinking his fangs into its throat. Hot, dark blood sprayed across his face.
Vaelora’s chant faltered, and she hissed. “That’s enough, Kaldrek.”
But it was already too late.
Cillian’s eyes snapped to the noise just as the throne room shifted. Crimson light flooded through the tall, arched windows, spilling like liquid fire across the stone floor. Through the cracks in the night, the moon now hung in the sky like a bleeding eye. The eclipse had reached its peak.
Shadows stretched unnaturally, slithering along the walls as if alive, drawn to the surge of magic thickening the air. The light was like a tear ripped open in the heavens, and for a breathless moment, all eyes turned to the red glow as it pulsed across the room like a living heartbeat.
Then came the sound of breaking bones and twisting flesh. Followed by the shrieking agony of a body reshaping itself.
Cillian was shifting.
His screams ripped through the air as his body contorted in grotesque ways. Kaldrek knew that pain all too well; the first shift was always the worst, bones snapping and reforming, muscles knotting, fire burning beneath the skin. But Evelyne had no idea what was happening to her brother, no frame of reference for the hell he was enduring.
“Cillian!” she cried, panic-stricken. “What is happening to him? What are you doing to him?” Her voice cracked as she turned her fury to Vaelora.
“Holy fuck,” Holden whispered beside Kaldrek, realization sinking in.
Alaric’s voice was barely audible over the chaos. “Is he shifting?” Disbelief laced his words.
Evelyne was shaking uncontrollably as she watched her brother transform into something monstrous.
A beast.
A wolf, but unlike any Kaldrek had ever seen.
He was massive, towering over them all. His fur was black as a void, yet his eyes were not the crimson red of a pure wolf bloodline, nor the bottomless black of the Noskari. They glowed gold, bright and radiant, as if a star had been sealed inside him.
Vaelora’s smile stretched wide as she circled Cillian, her eyes gleaming with a savage hunger. She moved like a queen admiring a weapon she had carefully forged.
“I always hoped you would shift for me one day,” she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Just look at you. So strong. So perfect.” Then her tone sharpened. “Now kill her.”
Cillian turned toward Evelyne, his lips curling back to reveal his fangs. Saliva dripped from his muzzle as he crouched low, muscles rippling beneath the sleek black fur. His massive frame radiated lethal intent.
Evelyne stumbled back a step, a broken sob escaping her. “Please, Cillian… come back.”
One massive paw struck the marble floor, claws screeching against stone. For a breathless, terrifying moment, Kaldrek was certain he wouldlunge and tear her apart. But Cillian didn’t move closer. Instead, the glow in his eyes intensified—so bright Evelyne had to shield her face.
In a swift motion, Cillian tore his eyes from her and fixed them on Vaelora.
A deep growl rose from his throat as he began a slow, deliberate prowl forward. Kaldrek’s pulse hammered. He recognized that look—the slight tilt of the head, the piercing intensity in his eyes. This wasn’t submission. Cillian was stalking.
Vaelora’s smile wavered. “Go on, love,” she said. “Kill her. Complete the sacrifice.” But Cillian didn’t strike. Instead, he began to circle her with deadly patience, each step radiating controlled rage, a predator waiting for the perfect moment.
A flicker of unease crossed Vaelora’s face. “I said kill her!” she snapped, her voice rising in desperation.
But Cillian’s lips only peeled back further, another low snarl vibrating deep in his chest.
