ADAM
Silence filled Peter’s living room hut like smoke that had nowhere to escape.
It wasn’t the comfortable quiet of safety or rest. It was heavy. Loaded. Expectant. As though the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Sage’s mind link remained open. Her presence lingered in my head like the fading echo of a scream—trembling with stubborn defiance.
Even after the last of her ssage had faded, the emotional residue remained: pain folded into courage, heartbreak braided with resolve, fear sharpened into purpose. She had let us hear everything. Every word the queen spat. Every confession soaked in cruelty. Every revelation that peeled back layers of deception and rot.
My jaw clenched until my teeth ached. I could still hear it—the queen’s voice slipping through Sage’s mind, dripping with pride as she admitted to murder, manipulation, decay. The deaths at the borders. The vampires unleashed like weapons. The magical beast sent to slaughter during the hunt. Every drop of blood spilled in the na of power.
The truth weighed on the room.
Peter leaned forward on the couch, forearms braced on his thighs, brow furrowed in deep thought. Laura stood near the wall, arms folded tight across her chest, expression carved into sothing unreadable. Darius hovered near the hearth with forced calm, his posture relaxed but his eyes alert, like a blade waiting to be drawn.
Diana stood stiffly near the center of the room, shoulders squared, face pale with strain. Her voice broke first.
"So the queen was behind the deaths around the boundaries," she rasped. "The deaths of our people..."
The words trembled out of her.
Silence answered her. But it wasn’t empty. It was full of shared understanding, shared rage, shared grief.
No one contradicted her. No one softened it. Because we all knew that the queen was not so misguided character or morally grey, she was pure evil.
My fists curled at my sides, nails biting into my palms. "How do we make the people know this?" I asked, voice tight. "How do we make them believe it?"
If the witches’ communities sided with her, alongside the vampires, the war wouldn’t just be bloody. It would be catastrophic.
So, they needed the truth.
Peter lifted his head slightly, exchanging a look with Laura. They both looked thoughtful, wary, calculating how the public mind could be turned without triggering panic or rebellion.
Diana inhaled shakily. "The only person who could convince them is Sage."
My chest tightened at her na.
"She could let them see it," Diana continued, eyes bright with desperate certainty. "Show them the truth the sa way she showed us. Especially if she reveals herself as Dora. The people knew her as that. They trusted her."
"True. But she’s in captivity," I said quietly. "And she doesn’t want to be saved, at least not by us, or now..."
The words felt wrong the mont they left my mouth.
Laura frowned. "Why would she say that?"
Darius tilted his head, thoughtful. "She likely wants more answers from the queen. More incriminating proof."
I scoffed bitterly. "And how does that help if she isn’t recording any of it? All it’s doing is tearing her heart apart."
Because I could feel it.
Every pulse of her pain throbbed through the bond like a bruise pressed too hard. Every flicker of betrayal echoed inside —her heartbreak over Raul, over Rachel, over the queen, over Isla.
Isla. I would have cut off that head when I returned to the pack.
"She warned us not to co to the palace..." I muttered. "Told not to interfere."
I exhaled sharply. "How am I supposed to listen to that?"
"We can’t go," Darius said calmly.
I shot him a glare. "And why the hell not?"
"Wherever she is," he replied, voice low, "it’s shrouded in heavy magic. Black magic. And from the amount of pain she’s in... there’s a high chance she’s been staked."
The word hit like a physical blow. My breath hitched. Shock flared first. Then fury roared up behind it.
"They staked her?" My voice dropped into sothing darker. "How did they even know she was part ancient?"
Darius shook his head. "I don’t know. Isla?"
"So what do we do?" Diana demanded.
"We don’t sit around," I snapped. "We don’t let her suffer alone." I pushed to my feet, every instinct screaming at to move—to find her, tear down whatever stood in my way, bring her back.
Darius caught my arm before I could take two steps. "Adam."
"Don’t," I warned.
He released slowly. "If you charge in blindly, you’ll get yourself killed. And you won’t help her."
"Then call the other ancients," I said sharply. "Bring them. We need them."
Darius exhaled. "We don’t know when the vampires will strike again. The ancients are limited. Pulling them to the witch community is risky. And we could face hostile energy here as well."
He t my eyes evenly. "But if anyone can save Sage... it’s Sage."
The statent unsettled if anything.
"She’s too powerful," he continued. "And she has another being within her."
My heartbeat stumbled. "Another being? Like... a wolf?"
He hesitated. "Sothing like that. But higher. Much higher. A gift from the goddess."
The words rang through . Sage had always been different. Too strong. But this refrad everything.
"I’m sure," Darius said quietly, "that between that and her magic, she’ll find a way out."
Then his voice dropped further. "If she doesn’t by tonight... or tomorrow... we go for her."
The promise burned like a brand. I nodded once, jaw tight, forcing myself to breathe.
Then—
Noah’s voice slamd into my mind path, sharp with panic. The pack is under attack! The colonies too!
"Damn it," I muttered aloud, spinning toward Darius. "The pack’s under attack. The colonies too."
His posture shifted instantly. "Then we leave. Now."
Peter rose at once, already moving toward the door.
I hesitated—just for a fraction of a second. Sage was still out there. Still hurting.
But if we lost the pack, if the colonies fell, there might not even be a kingdom left to save...
I sighed, and moved. I will trust her.
Outside, the air felt colder than before. Heavier. As if the land itself sensed what was coming.
Diana stepped forward, jaw set. "I want to co. To fight the vampires."
I looked at her more closely. The guilt on her face was unmistakable. Guilt for supporting a queen who had turned out to be a butcher. Guilt for not seeing it sooner. Guilt for the blood already spilled.
I nodded. "Fine."
Laura hesitated, then nodded too—then shook her head midway. "Peter will go. I’ll stay."
Peter frowned. "Laura—"
"If Sage returns," Laura said softly, "or needs help... soone must be here."
The logic hurt. But it was right.
As we ran toward the runes, my thoughts kept snapping back to Sage. Her quiet, defiant refusal to break.
Hold on, I whispered through the bond. Just hold on a little longer.
I didn’t know if she could hear . But I hoped.
Because if she fell, I wasn’t sure what would be left of .
And I refused to live in a world where Sage’s light was extinguished.
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