The Mad Alpha's Chapter 93: Touched by the Ancient One

Chapter 93: Touched by the Ancient One

(GRIFFIN)

The sun is higher now, casting strong, clean light across the palace grounds as I make my way back.

The guards at the gates straighten as I approach, and the familiar ache of confinent resurfaces in my chest. Still, I nod at them and push through. I can’t avoid the palace forever. Not when there are duties pressing in from every side.

I barely make it to the main courtyard when the air shimrs, warping and bending, and a portal opens up before . Instinctively, I shift my stance, ready to defend if needed. But I catch the familiar scent just as the figures step through.

Locke, King of the Northern Wolf Kingdom, erges first, his massive fra rigid, his face carved in a deep scowl that seems permanently etched into his features. His dark hair is cropped short, and his armor is battered and worn, a testant to the countless battles he has fought. His entire presence screams war and discipline.

At his side stands the woman who must be his mate. Corrine, despite the heavy roundness of late pregnancy, carries herself with a fierce grace. Her dark hair is pulled back, and her hand rests protectively over her stomach. A young boy stands beside her, his bright eyes wide with curiosity.

A girl follows behind them, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, her posture relaxed compared to the others. There’s sothing ethereal about her, sothing that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

A witch.

Locke’s gaze locks on mine the mont he steps fully through the portal.

"Griffin," he grunts in greeting, clapping a hand on my shoulder so hard it jolts

back a step. "Good to see you still breathing."

"Locke," I manage with a short nod, my mouth twitching in amusent despite the lingering tension in my muscles. Corrine steps forward next, her smile warm but impatient. She doesn’t waste ti with pleasantries.

"I’m Corrine," she says, glancing sideways at her mate, who hasn’t bothered to introduce her. "Sorry about Locke. He seems to think everybody should know who I am. It’s nice to finally et you, Griffin."

She looks innocent and delicate, but given that she is Locke’s fated mate, there must be sothing about her that makes the warrior standing beside her seem so besotted. Even now, he’s watching

carefully, as if he fully expects

to attack his woman.

"Erik missed you. More than he will ever tell you," Corrine murmurs, her voice gentle but firm. "I’m so glad you’re finally ho."

She looks up, and I see Erik watching from one of the windows. He lifts a hand in greeting, and she cheerfully waves back.

But I see sothing in my brother’s eyes, sothing that she probably doesn’t notice.

I give Corrine another look, and my heart sinks. It seems she has an admirer in my brother. Poor Erik.

"It is good to et the queen of the Northern Wolf Kingdom." She beams at . "Now, where’s Maya?"

I gesture toward the gardens. "She is resting in the cottage—"

She’s already moving, her pace surprisingly fast despite her obvious condition.

"Corrine, slow down!" Locke calls after her, his voice exasperated but fond as he jogs to catch up.

The child takes off after them, his small legs pumping furiously. "Mom! Healer Pat said you’re not supposed to run!" I blink after them, a little stunned by the whirlwind they’ve just unleashed on the palace.

When I turn back, the young witch is still standing where she stepped through the portal, watching

with sharp, knowing eyes.

She’s different from the others. Still. Patient. Her gaze pierces straight through . "You’ve been touched by an Ancient One," she says softly, as if remarking on the weather.

A chill runs down my spine. I take a step closer, lowering my voice. "You’re a witch," I say, not a question. She nods once. "My na is Isla."

I study her carefully, recognizing the threads of magic that shimr faintly around her. "Do you know anything about the old bloodlines?" I ask. "Prophecies?"

Her lips twitch into a small smile. "I know enough to stay away from them."

I have not given much thought to what that old witch said to , but seeing Isla now, I can’t help but be reminded of it. "The witch I t gave

a prophecy. Would another witch be able to interpret it?"

Isla hesitates. "It can be attempted, but only an Ancient One of that bloodline has the ability to tell you what it ans."

I recount the prophecy, and she listens intently, her head cocked slightly to the side, weighing every syllable. When I finish, Isla closes her eyes briefly, the morning breeze tugging at her loose hair.

"anings hidden beneath anings," she finally murmurs. I frown. "Can you interpret it?"

She hesitates. "I can try. But sothing that powerful takes ti. I’ll need a few days. Maybe more." Sothing cold and sharp slices through my gut, but I nod.

"And I should warn you..." Isla’s gaze sharpens, her voice low and steady. "You should be prepared for the worst."

My shoulders tense instinctively. "Why?"

"Because," she says, her voice almost a whisper, "prophecies by the old bloodline do not deliver good news." The palace seems to alter around , the walls pressing closer, the air growing heavier.

"And if I were to tell you who it centers around," Isla continues, eting my gaze without flinching, "it would be your fated mate."

Maya.

Her na sears my mind like a brand. The idea of anything happening to her consus

with a violence I don’t bother to hide.

Isla must see it, because she softens slightly, her next words almost kind. "There are ways to fight fate," she says. "But they always co at a price."

I clench my fists at my sides, the weight of the mont settling hard and brutal in my chest. "I don’t care what it costs," I say quietly. "I’ll pay."

Her expression is unreadable for a beat. Then, she nods. "I’ll start working on it," she promises. "But you should stay close to her. Don’t let her out of your sight."

I don’t need to be told twice. Even if I didn’t know the prophecy, even if none of this magic or fate or ancient warning existed, I wouldn’t leave her side.

Not now. Not ever.

Without another word, Isla steps away, following the others into the gardens.

I stand there a mont longer, feeling the sun heavy on my back, the weight of unseen storms gathering around . Maya.

Everything inside

is being pulled toward her, tethered by sothing deeper than blood or magic.

If fate thinks it can take her from , it has no idea who it’s dealing with.