I wandered back to the castle in a daze. A freezing rain began to pour. Kael hadn't returned. He never came back that night.

I stood by the window, watching the raindrops trace paths down the glass, blurring the outside world into a gray watercolor painting. My vision blurred right along with it.

I thought back. When did all of this begin?

I remembered Lyra bending over to pick up a dropped handkerchief, her neckline dipping low.

I saw Kael's gaze trace the line of her collarbone. A flicker of heat flashed in his eyes before he snapped them shut and abruptly turned away.

After that, he was restless for days, snapping at everyone.

"Elara," he finally said, his voice a bit rough. "Perhaps Lyra should have her own room in the East Wing... I know you adore her. But she's young, and she needs her own space."

Was that when the thorns first took root? I wondered, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

A biting gust of wind sliced through the old window frame, piercing right through me. My body began to tremble uncontrollably, and the world seemed to tilt. I felt myself falling, collapsing silently onto the cold stone floor.

When I opened my eyes again, Kael was there.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding me.

His face was pale, his features drawn with worry. There was a faint trace of blood on his lips. I realized he had just fed me. He had mixed his blood with a sleeping draught and passed it from his mouth to mine.

The moment he saw my eyes flutter open, he crushed me to his chest.

So tightly. So desperately.

"Elara. My Elara, you're awake." His voice was choked, tears shining in his eyes as he trembled. "When you collapsed... I thought... I was so scared. I thought I lost you."

He was terrified. He looked exactly like a man who loved me more than anything in the world.

But he smelled like her. That sickly-sweet perfume Lyra wore. Catching that scent now made my stomach churn with sickening nausea.

My voice was perfectly flat, so hollow it sounded like an echo of myself. "Where were you last night?"

I saw it. A barely perceptible shift of emotion flickered in his eyes.

For a split second, he seemed to want to look away, but he quickly reassembled his mask of concern.

"There was an urgent matter to handle over in Thornwood. I couldn't make it back, I am so sorry."

I said nothing.

His voice softened, taking on a pleading edge. "My Elara, are you mad at me? I swear, this is the first and last time. For forgive me, please."

My gaze was drawn involuntarily to his neck. Right there. A stark, unmistakably clear bite mark, resting just above his throat, right beneath his jaw.

It was completely unhidden—a brand, a flag of conquest.

I could picture the scene with vivid clarity: Lyra boldly declaring her desire, sinking her teeth into him. And Kael throwing his head back, letting her claim him, a low, indulgent growl rumbling in his chest.

I fought to keep my voice steady. "What is that?"

He caught his reflection in the window glass and froze.

Only for a second. Then he let out a helpless little chuckle, brushing it off. "A training accident. One of the pups got too overexcited."

I met his eyes. "A wolf got near your throat and took a bite?"

He paused, a flash of irritation crossing his face before he masked it again. "It was my fault. I was distracted. I was worried about you. It's nothing. Let me make you a cup of that honey tea you love."

Back when I was human, I had a massive sweet tooth. And Kael, the formidable Alpha wolf, had always loved making sweets for me.

Even amidst the harsh reality of the pack, he kept that tradition alive. The other wolves always envied my Alpha's tenderness.

Now, that precious memory was just another lie, another shattered fragment of the illusion I had been living in.

I heard my own voice say, "Alright."

It wasn't Kael who brought the tea, but a handmaiden. She kept her head bowed, her demeanor respectful. "Luna, Alpha Kael was called away. There's an issue at the Crimson Creek border. He asked me to tell you to rest well and drink this tea. It will help you sleep."

I didn't care if there was actual trouble or not. I accepted the warm cup mechanically, my movements stiff.

As I drank, I failed to notice the triumphant smirk ghosting across the maid's lips.

An unnatural exhaustion swallowed me instantly. It wasn't a gentle slumber, but a suffocating darkness.

Just before I completely lost consciousness, the maid's face shimmered, morphing back into Lyra's breathtaking features.

"Hello, sister," her voice hissed in my mind, as sharp as a viper's fangs. "Long time no see."

A wave of terror washed over me, and then the darkness claimed me entirely.

I woke up paralyzed, feeling as though a crushing weight had pinned me down.

I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even fully open my eyes. My consciousness was trapped, a prisoner inside my own flesh and blood.

But I could see. Through the narrow slits of my lashes, my gaze fell upon the room beyond the sheer bed curtains. The master bedroom was brightly lit by the fire.

There were two figures out there.

Kael had Lyra by the throat, his face twisted in cold, murderous rage.

"How dare you!" he snarled, his voice guttural and menacing. "How dare you use sleeping powder on her? If she comes to any harm, I will make you suffer for a thousand years!"

Lyra choked, her face turning crimson as her legs kicked wildly.

He held her there, letting her suffer for a long moment before violently tossing her aside.

She collapsed onto the floor, gasping for air, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I only did it because I missed you!" she sobbed, playing the role of the pathetic, innocent victim. "The dust won't hurt her! It just makes her sleep! So she can't see, can't hear..."

Kael remained silent.

Seeing this, Lyra seized the opportunity to crawl toward him, sliding her hands up his legs as she stood. She pressed her body flush against his.

"You can kill me, Alpha," she whispered, her voice trembling with feigned fear, "but I would rather die than live without your touch."

She was wearing a sheer silk robe. With a flick of her fingers, the sash at her waist came undone. The robe pooled on the floor, leaving her standing naked before him. She looped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his ear.

"Kael, don't you want me?" she murmured. "Don't you want to feel alive? If you don't, I'll leave."

For one heart-stopping second, nothing happened.

Then, Kael let out a dark growl, his hands shooting out to yank her back against him.

"You little vixen..." he growled, his voice thick with a raw lust I had never heard before.

That sound hit me like a physical blow. I wanted to scream, to run.

But I was trapped, like a living statue, forced to watch it all unfold.

The clothes I had made for him, the tunics I had carefully stitched while imagining his warmth wearing them, were cast to the floor one by one until they were nothing but a meaningless pile of fabric.

The night was dead silent, save for the sounds of their passionate entanglement.

Every rustle of the sheets, every heavy breath from Kael, every soft, euphoric moan from Lyra twisted like a knife in my gut.

I felt like I was being skinned alive, piece by piece.

And then, there was a sound. A faint chime. It was the bell on Lyra's ankle.

Her voice snaked into my mind, dripping with venomous whispers. "The show is just beginning, sister. Did you think that was just a sleeping draught? It was a key. It unlocked the door to your soul, letting my little toy inside."

"This bell... it's called the Bell of Shattering. It will tear you apart, piece by piece. Watching you die will be my greatest joy. Just you wait."

She turned her head, flashing me a triumphant smirk.

Then she turned back, wrapping her legs around Kael like a snake.

His movements grew faster, more frantic, as if driven by some primal urge.

Lyra's moans grew louder. And with every moan, the chiming of the bell became sharper, more urgent.

An invisible force, like a thousand searing hot needles, pierced the very depths of my soul. Pure, excruciating agony tore through my body.

"Alpha," Lyra gasped, nipping at his shoulder. "This bell... it only rings when I'm... pleased. Do you like the sound?"

Kael, lost in a haze of frenzy, groaned in response, his hands gripping her ankles tightly, making the bell chime even faster.

"Louder," he rasped. "Make it ring faster."

An explosive wave of agony hit me.

The red glow emanating from the chimes became almost tangible, manifesting as ghostly vipers that burrowed into my ears, my eyes, my chest.

In that moment, I could almost see it in my mind's eye.

My soul. My fractured, incomplete soul.

I saw the fissures widening, spreading like cracks across a frozen lake.

The pain was so intense I felt it would snuff out my life right then and there.

But then, a soft blue light pulsed from the center of my chest. It wasn't warm or comforting; it was as cold and clinical as a binding contract.

The Arbiter's voice echoed through the void of my consciousness.

"The Soul Contract is binding. In the face of lethal spiritual damage, the contract's power will intervene to protect its property."

The spectral vipers hissed, recoiling under the blue light before dissolving into wisps of smoke.

The pain gradually receded, and with it, my consciousness faded. The world plunged into absolute darkness.

When I woke up, the room was empty and completely silent.

The fire had died down, leaving only a few glowing embers.

The air was freezing and still. The memories of last night felt like a raw, bleeding wound, but my mind was remarkably clear.

I remembered hearing a scream right before I blacked out. It was Lyra's voice. The backlash from the Underworld's magic must have hurt her badly.

I didn't have to wait long. The door banged open, and Kael stormed in.

His face bore no trace of concern for me; he was frantic with worry, but it was entirely for someone else.

"Elara," he began, not with a greeting, but a demand. "The border was attacked last night. Lyra is gravely injured, her spirit broken. She needs a Soulstone to heal. Where is the one I gave you?"

The Soulstone. He had fought through a hundred battles to acquire it, nearly dying in the process.

It was meant to stabilize my fragile soul, to grant me peace in my final days.

The Arbiter himself had instructed me to take it to ease the agony of my soul's dissipation.

I held the small velvet pouch in my hand, feeling the weight of the stone inside. Kael reached for it eagerly.

I turned, pulling the pouch away from his grasping fingers.

He paused, a flash of—was that annoyance?—crossing his face.

He leaned in, his voice softening into that familiar, coaxing tone he always used with me.

"Elara, don't be afraid. You have my blood in your veins. You'll be fine. You've always been fine."

I looked up at him, my voice as light as the wind. "But Kael... I am in pain. I have always been in pain."

He stared at me, failing to process my words for a second. Then he sighed, the kind of sigh a man gives when dealing with a difficult child. "She doesn't have time for this, Elara. She's dying."

My fingers gripped the pouch so tightly my knuckles turned white. "Tell me, Kael. Was she really injured by some rogue? Or is there another reason?"

He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second.

"She is dying, Elara. If she doesn't get the Soulstone, she won't survive. You are the kindest person I know. You took her in, you loved her like a real sister. Don't you want to save her?"

"She is not my sister!" The words burst from my lips like blades. "She is not my family."

A real sister wouldn't try to destroy me.

A spark of anger flared in Kael's eyes. "Elara, when did you become so cold and heartless? When you were human, you would heal wounded rabbits. You would give your last crumb of bread to a starving child."

Before I could reply, Lyra's handmaiden, an old woman, burst into the room without knocking, her face pale with terror. "Alpha! Please! Lady Lyra... she's fading! You must come now!"

Kael blanched, waving the woman away impatiently.

"Go, I'll be right there." He turned back to me, his tone hardening into an Alpha's absolute command. "Elara. The Soulstone. Give it to me."

The dark mirror reflected a woman I didn't recognize at all. Pale, hollow, broken. A bitter, mirthless smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"And if I refuse? Will you take it from me by force, Alpha?"

"Elara, do not push me."

I swallowed back the tidal wave of words, accusations, pleas, and shattered heartbreak.

I asked him one last time, my voice calm and steady. "Are you sure? You absolutely must have it?"

His patience finally snapped. "For the love of the Moon, Elara! Stop being so dramatic! What good will a Soulstone do for you that my blood hasn't already done? A life is on the line! This is not the time for your petty jealousy!"

I looked at him, and for the first time in three hundred years, I felt completely numb.

The pain vanished. In its place was a vast, sprawling emptiness.

"Alright," I whispered. "Take it."

He didn't even hear me. He snatched the pouch from my unresisting hand, a look of profound relief washing over his face.

He paused at the door, remembering his obligations.

He glanced back at me.

"I will be back, Elara. Once this is all over... I will throw you the grandest ceremony this land has ever seen. I promise."

And with that, he was gone.

I slowly shook my head.

There would be no ceremony. There would be no future. And we would not be together.

I had waited long enough.

The seven-day countdown ended here.