Chapter 22
[Dark Alley]
Rogan went to see Seraphina after nightfall.
Her place was tucked away from the main streets, hidden behind wards most people never noticed and those who did learned quickly not to linger.
The air inside smelled faintly of herbs and old stone, familiar in a way that tightened his chest.
Seraphina didn’t ask why he was there, she set a kettle aside and turned to face him. Her expression was already grave.
“Sit,” she said but Rogan didn’t.
“She felt it again,” he said instead. “Stronger than before p>
Seraphina’s lips pressed together. “I know p>
That made his jaw tighten. “She told you p>
“Yes and I also felt the shift,” she replied calmly. “Not the event itself but the echo of it. Whatever touched her wasn’t ordinary p>
Rogan dragged a hand through his hair. “I gave her the potion and it worked. At least enough p>
“For now,” Seraphina said.
She crossed the room and rested her palms lightly on the table. “Rogan,” she said quietly, “history is trying to repeat itself p>
The words settled like a weight.
“No,” he said immediately. “We have been careful. We did everything right p>
“We did what we could,” Seraphina corrected. “Those are not the same thing p>
Rogan looked away. “She is unshifted. She doesn’t even have a wolf p>
Seraphina’s gaze sharpened. “She appears unshifted p>
She stepped closer. “Lyra is unshifted because of us p>
Rogan froze.
“The suppression spells, the potions,” Seraphina continued. “They have done exactly what they were meant to do, hide the external signs, delay the manifestation and keep her from drawing attention p>
She tapped the table lightly. “But that’s all they ever did p>
Rogan swallowed. “You said it would keep her safe p>
“It kept her hidden,” Seraphina said gently. “Not small p>
She met his eyes. “From the inside, Rogan, she is a wolf just like her father and—” She paused. “She is like her mother too. Lyra is everything her mother was, maybe even powerful and that cannot be diluted, masked or erased p>
He shook his head. “Then why hasn’t she shifted p>
“Because her body has been taught to resist itself,” Seraphina replied. “And resistance comes at a cost p>
Rogan’s chest tightened. “So what she felt p>
“Was the bond reacting to something that recognizes her,” Seraphina finished. “And something being recognized in return p>
Silence stretched between them.
“No spell,” she continued softly, “no potion I make can hide what she is. Not from forces that are already looking and not from something tied to blood and fate p>
Rogan’s voice dropped. “You think they know p>
“I think they are close enough to feel her,” Seraphina said. “And that means the window is closing p>
He turned away, anger and fear coiling together. “She doesn’t even know what she is p>
“And that,” Seraphina said, “is what frightens me most p>
Rogan faced her again. “If we stop the suppression p>
“She will shift,” Seraphina said. “Fully and fast p>
“And if we don’t p>
Seraphina held his gaze, unflinching. “Then whatever is pulling at her will keep escalating until something breaks p>
Rogan exhaled shakily. “I won’t lose her p>
“I know,” Seraphina said softly. “But protecting her doesn’t mean keeping her ignorant p>
She stepped back, giving him space. “The truth won’t save her on its own but lies will get her killed p>
Rogan closed his eyes.
History wasn’t repeating itself yet but it was circling.
And this time, the stakes were higher than either of them wanted to admit.
“I will tell her,” he said. “Maybe not everything but enough to make her cautious p>
Seraphina nodded in agreement. “The sooner you do it, the better p>
[Blackthorn Enterprise]
Riven received the report just after midnight.
He was alone in his office, the city spread out beneath the windows in fractured light when his tablet chimed softly. He didn’t react immediately, he already knew what it would be.
He opened the file.
Subject: Lyra Hale
Status: Active Observation
The first pages were mundane.
Education records, employment history, rental agreements and medical checkups that showed nothing remarkable. A life that looked almost aggressively ordinary.
Riven skimmed.
Then he slowed.
“Residential history,” he murmured.
The addresses were inconsistent with short stays, temporary leases and long gaps where records thinned or vanished altogether.
He scrolled.
Guardian: Rogan Hale
Relationship: Maternal uncle
Pack affiliation: None listed at birth. Joined later.
Riven’s brow furrowed.
No pack at birth wasn’t unusual but joining later was.
He tapped the next section.
Surveillance Notes —Day One
The subject did not return to the workplace.
Visitor identified: Seraphina Vale
Duration: Forty-six minutes
Conversation not recorded Subject’s physical indicators stabilized afterward
Riven’s jaw tightened, he read the name twice.
Seraphina Vale.
He leaned back slowly in his chair, eyes narrowing as the implication settled in.
“That’s unexpected,” he murmured.
Seraphina didn’t insert herself into situations without reason. She wasn’t pack-aligned, didn’t answer to councils and avoided political entanglements whenever possible.
And yet she had gone to Lyra Hale’s apartment.
Riven scrolled back to the timestamp.
Seraphina visited Lyra less than twenty-four hours after the curse had surfaced, that wasn’t a coincidence.
He tapped the edge of his desk once, thoughtful. “Interesting p>
Seraphina was careful and calculated. If she had felt the need to see Lyra herself, then whatever was happening wasn’t minor.
And it wasn’t stable.
Riven exhaled slowly.
“So,” he said quietly to the empty room, “you have noticed it too p>
That unsettled him more than the report itself because if Seraphina was already involved, it meant the situation had crossed a line most people didn’t even know existed.
Riven closed the file.
Whatever Lyra Hale was, she had drawn the attention of people who only moved when things were already spiraling.
And that meant time was no longer on anyone’s side.
[The Shadowed One]
They gathered where the city forgot itself.
Far beneath streets crowded with lights and lives, beyond abandoned subway tunnels and sealed basements, lay a chamber that did not belong to this era.
Stone walls bore scars of rituals long erased from pack records, symbols carved so deep they could not be ground away without destroying the foundation itself.
This place predated treaties, predated coexistence and predated mercy.
A single lantern burned at the center of the chamber.
Its flame was wrong, dark at the edges, wavering without wind, casting shadows that stretched and twisted instead of retreating.
The Shadowed Ones did not sit.
They stood in a loose circle, faces hidden, forms indistinct, as if the darkness itself refused to define them fully.
“The curse has stirred,” one of them said at last.