TO RUIN A KING

The glow from Magdalene's wrist pulsed like a heartbeat—hot, ancient, dangerous.

Maddox stared at it as though seeing her for the first time. Not the elegant, confident Selene Noir. But something… other.

The silence between them stretched taut, straining under the weight of secrets unspoken.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice low, reverent—and laced with something sharp.

Magdalene didn't answer at once. Her breath was caught in her throat, tangled in the hundreds of ways this could go wrong.

"I said…" he took a step closer, his bare feet crushing charred leaves. "What is that mark on your wrist?"

"A curse," she said. A partial truth. Safer than the whole one.

His golden eyes narrowed. "That's not just any curse. That's prophecy-bound magic. I've only seen that glow once before—in my father's archives. Blood-oath binding. Forbidden even by the Council."

She bit the inside of her cheek, gaze flickering to the burned village behind them. Ash still drifted in the air like gray snow.

"It's not meant to hurt anyone," she said softly.

"Then why hide it?"

Because it is meant to hurt, she wanted to say.

Because it was branded on her as both punishment and purpose.

Because if she told him everything now, the fragile thread tethering their fates might snap before it had the chance to hold.

Instead, she whispered, "Because it's not time."

Maddox looked like he wanted to argue. To demand the full truth. But something in her voice—something raw, afraid, and far too honest—made him stop.

His wolf was restless beneath his skin. She could sense it—his muscles twitching, breath short. But he didn't lunge or roar.

He simply looked at her, and for once, saw through her.

"Did you know this would happen?" he asked. "This attack, the fire, the message…"

"No." She met his eyes. "But I knew something was coming."

"And you didn't warn me."

"I couldn't," she said. "Not without blowing everything apart. I had to stay close to you, unnoticed—until the moment came."

Maddox paced, his bare shoulders tight with fury. His claws retracted slowly, reluctantly, as his control returned.

"Everything about you is a contradiction," he muttered. "You walk into my court like a queen of silk and ash, charm my council, steal my attention—then vanish into the forest like a shadow wolf. And now you're standing in the aftermath of this with glowing wrists and riddles in your mouth."

She didn't speak.

Because he wasn't wrong.

"I should throw you in the dungeons," he said, finally facing her again.

"You could," she replied, steady. "But it won't stop what's coming."

"And what is coming?"

Magdalene inhaled deeply.

It was time to show him something.

"Come with me," she said. "There's someone you need to meet."

He hesitated. "Now?"

"Now."

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the east end of the ruined village, away from the scorched homes and weeping survivors. Maddox followed, shifting into black pants and a thin tunic with the help of the winds—magic whispered at his command, as natural as breath.

They moved in silence for several minutes through the darkened woods until they reached a narrow ravine. Mist rolled like a silver river through the crevice, and at its center, a figure waited.

Old. Hooded. Leaning on a gnarled staff carved from blackthorn and bone.

Maddox bristled instantly. "Who is that?"

Magdalene stepped ahead. "An old ally. Bound by the same fate as me."

The hooded figure turned slightly, and though his face remained hidden, his voice carried the weight of centuries.

"You have delayed long enough, Ruinbearer."

Maddox snarled at the title. "You will explain that right now."

The old man ignored him. "He grows stronger. His fires have touched the Northern Forest and now the Eastern Border. Duskfall is next."

"Who?" Maddox growled.

The man turned toward him at last, revealing a gaunt face etched with deep scars and half-blind eyes.

"The Devourer," he said simply. "The one your ancestors sealed away before the first moon fell. He feeds on memory. On lineage."

Maddox blinked. "That's a children's tale. A campfire legend told to scare pups."

The old man chuckled. "Is that what you think this is?"

He raised his staff and pointed it at Magdalene's wrist.

"Her mark is the key. A blood-pact made by her ancestors and yours. When the seal cracks, a Vale must awaken it. And a Rivers must bear its burden."

The wind howled, carrying with it the scent of blood and old magic.

Maddox looked at her. "You're… Rivers?"

Magdalene stiffened.

It was too soon.

"I go by Selene Noir," she said quietly.

"But that's not your name."

"No."

"Magdalene Rivers," he said, voice low, trying it on like a blade. "Daughter of the exiled line."

Silence fell again.

She couldn't lie anymore.

"Yes."

He stepped back, as though she'd struck him.

"You lied to me."

"I protected you."

"Same thing, isn't it?" His eyes shimmered with betrayal. "Every time I trusted someone, they used it to burn me."

She moved toward him. "I didn't come to hurt you. I came to stop what's coming—for both of us."

"And what is coming?"

The old man answered this time, lifting his staff.

"The Eclipse War. Where light forgets to return, and the wolves of ruin rise."

Maddox's breath caught. "That's prophecy. That's—"

"—what's already begun," the old man finished. "And without your bond—without your true mate awakened—you won't survive it."

Maddox looked to Magdalene.

"I am your mate," she said. "I always was."

He stared at her as though the world had just realigned beneath his feet. Rage and longing warred in his eyes, torn between the past that wounded him and the woman who carried it.

"I remember pieces," he said hoarsely. "But it's like chasing shadows."

"That's because the bond was severed," she said. "Not broken. Severed by magic I didn't choose."

"Can it be restored?"

She nodded. "But only by choice. Yours."

The old man stepped back into the mist. "If he does not choose before the next blood moon, the Devourer will take Duskfall—and everything tied to it."

Then he vanished into the fog like a story unspoken.

Maddox turned back to her, chest heaving.

"Why didn't you tell me all this sooner?"

"Because the more you remembered, the faster the Devourer could find us. Our memories are part of the lock."

He looked like he wanted to scream. To run. To kiss her. To destroy her.

"You chose this path for both of us."

"I chose survival," she said. "But now it's your turn to choose."

His jaw clenched. "And if I say no?"

"Then the prophecy fails. The kingdoms fall. I die."

She said it so simply, as if it were just a fact.

But her eyes burned.

Maddox turned away, pacing the edge of the ravine.

"This is too much," he muttered. "All of this. I didn't ask for a prophecy. Or a curse. Or a mate forged in secrets."

"I know," she whispered. "But fate doesn't ask."

Suddenly, a roar shattered the silence—deep, guttural, full of agony.

Not a wolf.

Not human.

Something else.

Maddox spun around. "That came from the village."

But the scent in the air was different now.

Sickly sweet. Decayed magic. Sulfur and soulburn.

Magdalene's blood ran cold.

"No," she said. "It came from beneath it."

They ran.

Back through the trees. Back to the smoldering ruins.

Only now—half the village was gone.

Swallowed by a jagged hole in the earth, its edge slick with glowing red glyphs.

And from that pit, rising like a nightmare given flesh—

A creature made of fire and shadow, with hollow eyes and a maw full of teeth that shouldn't exist.

The Devourer's harbinger.

It saw them.

And it smiled.