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THIRTY-TWO

SELENE

S elene had only meant to clear her head.

The citadel had become stifling—every corridor echoing with whispers, every glance a blade. She needed air. Needed space from walls that once promised safety but now only reminded her of Kael’s voice, cold and calculated, and the way the court had looked at her like she was less than nothing.

So she slipped away.

Nyra’s spies had secured a narrow passage that led beneath the east hall ruins—half-collapsed, forgotten, but still walkable. It was supposed to lead to the outer ridgeline.

She told herself she’d be gone for an hour, maybe two.

She never made it to the ridge.

The trap was clever—silent, quick, masked in the scent of Veilroot and old blood.

She stepped into the passage and the world went dark.

Selene woke to firelight and stone.

She was on her knees, wrists bound in iron and Veilthread, her ankles lashed to the base of a blood-stained altar. The scent hit her first—damp earth, incense, and copper. Her head throbbed from whatever drug they’d used to knock her out.

And then she saw him.

Lord Varyn stood a few feet away, cloaked in ceremonial black and red, the sigil of House Duskthorn now gilded with a symbol she recognized from the attack in the citadel. Rising Flame symbols.

He smiled when she stirred.

“Well,” he said, voice like spoiled silk. “The vessel wakes.”

Selene’s stomach churned. “You’re a coward,” she rasped.

Varyn crouched in front of her. “I’m a visionary.”

She spat at his feet.

He only chuckled.

“You should be honored, really,” he said. “Your bloodline is one of the oldest still tethered to the true Veil. Did you think that made you free? That Kael could keep you for himself, seal you with some mangled bond and call it love?” He leaned closer. “No, girl. You were born for this.”

She strained against the chains, but they didn’t give.

“You don’t even know what you are, do you?” he whispered. “A Veilwalker, yes. But deeper. Rarer. The magic in your veins predates the wolf packs. Predates the Dominion. You are the keystone.”

Selene’s heart pounded. “Keystone for what?”

“The Bridge,” he said simply.

She blinked. “The what?—”

“The bridge to break the Veil entirely,” he explained, standing again. “To pull the old realms into this one. Dominion. Human. Magic. Blood. All one. Your blood can open the path. All the way. Not just step through it, but shatter it. ”

Selene froze. “And once it’s broken?” she asked, dread curling inside her.

“Then we shape the world,” he said, as if it were obvious. “One people. One will. One rule. No more monsters in charge. No more shifting tyrants. Only order. ”

“You’ll kill everyone,” she said. “You don’t understand the Veil.”

“I don’t need to understand it,” he replied. “I need to control it.”

Her jaw clenched. “You’ll never get away with this. Kael?—”

“Isn’t coming for you,” Varyn cut in. “He made that very clear.”

The words stabbed deeper than they should have.But she didn’t let it show.

He gestured to the others in the chamber—three cloaked figures, two human, one shifter whose face was obscured.

They began preparing the ritual.

Selene tried to memorize everything—the symbols etched in chalk, the blades etched with runes, the circle of ash they placed her in.

This wasn’t just extraction. This was transference. They were going to try to rip her power out. And if the books in the hidden library had been right… it would kill her.

But Selene lifted her chin.

Let them think they had her. Let them think she was just a vessel. They didn’t know her fire yet.