Betrayals and Black Magic
In the palace, the banquet.
The door shut behind Theodor with a dry sound.
Subtle.
Irreversible.
The corridor was left behind, along with the muffled noise of the feast and its well-dressed lies. Inside the chamber, the light was too low. Amber. Warm. Wrong.
Minutes earlier, a servant had approached him, voice low but urgent.
— Alpha… the princess has returned.
He began, his tone nearly a whisper, too low, too concerned. Still, no suspicion arose.
— When? Where?
— In her chamber. She is in pain, wounded… she asks for your presence.
A mistake. Elizabeth would never allow him to see her suffer. She disliked causing discomfort, worrying others. He had learned that in her second year there, when he found her curled in pain, crying herself to sleep in silence.
— Go to her. The banquet continues.
The king spoke firmly, though concern edged his voice. He had known Elizabeth before the treaty, before the betrothal, before she was given to him as a daughter-in-law.
— Go, tend to her, and bring her back when you can. Her well-being comes first.
The queen added, her voice polished, steady, unwavering, as it had always been for as long as Theodor could remember.
There was no argument. He went.
Thinking if she was still angry about the dress, if that coldness still lingered… the same coldness that pushed him away yet bound him like chains sunk into stone.
His eyes longed to see that crescent mark again, those eyes, to hear that voice, to touch that face, to feel Safira tearing him apart… or taming him.
And then he saw her.
There.
Seated.
Marked by scratches like the old warriors… and his heart almost calmed.
Almost.
She was there.
Sitting at the edge of the bed.
Head slightly lowered.
Breathing measured. Slightly uneven, in truth.
Wounded.
Or… he did not finish the thought.
— Elizabeth… — his voice came softer than he intended.
It always did, when it was her.
He approached slowly.
Observing.
The right height.
Dark hair streaked with lighter strands cascading down her back.
The posture… almost perfect.
Almost.
— You left in the middle of your own ceremony — he murmured, stopping a few steps away. — I know your sister matters. I know she is your family. But this should not have happened… not today. Not when you were to become my Luna. The Luna of my people.
He moved closer, restrained steps, relief creeping in… a relief that felt wrong, misplaced, as if everything was out of order, out of expectation. Yet it was her. It had to be her.
— I know you disagree, but your father could have handled it. King Samael is a powerful Lycan. He would have weathered the storm beyond Monte Solari…
He exhaled, unsettled by the absence of argument, of conviction from her.
— This will cost us.
Silence.
She did not answer.
Only lifted her face slowly.
Her eyes…
Silver-gold.
Beautiful.
Wrong.
Something… did not fit.
But he ignored it.
Because he wanted to.
Because it was easier to believe she was there, alive, whole… than to face the void that had followed her absence.
Everything felt wrong. His wolf was restless, Ferir clawing against the walls of his mind.
"IT IS NOT HER."
The warning came weak, almost voiceless, a strangled growl. Then silence.
"Ferir? What is wrong?"
He asked quietly, concern flickering… but not enough to step away. Not enough to leave his Luna. Not enough to escape the web tightening around him.
"Ferir? Why don't you answer? Still angry about Safira?"
He took another step.
"Ferir? Speak to me."
Another.
"Ferir, damn it, don't leave me in the dark."
For an Alpha ruled by the light of morning, the clarity of day, the kiss of dusk… the silence of his wolf was suffocating.
He stopped. Too close.
— Are you hurt? — he asked, his hand already lifting, hesitating inches from her face.
She tilted her head.
As Elizabeth did.
As Elizabeth always did.
— I am…
The voice was right.
But empty.
Lacking that cold, steady undercurrent. That control that always lingered beneath.
A perfect imitation.
Without a soul.
Theodor frowned faintly.
But he was too close.
Too inclined.
Too far gone.
And then…
The scent.
Not strong.
Subtle.
Floral.
Sweet.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
The word struck like a mantra, a realization that clawed through him.
His body froze before his mind caught up.
Jasmine.
Mint.
Cold.
Elizabeth always smelled like restrained winter.
This… was rotting spring.
His eyes snapped open.
— …no.
He stepped back.
Slow.
Dangerous.
— Who are you?
Silence.
And then…
She smiled.
Not like Elizabeth.
Never like Elizabeth.
Elizabeth's smiles were gentle. Soft. Almost shy, but simply kind, warm in her own quiet way.
This one…
Small.
Crooked.
Hungry.
And the illusion… melted.
Like paint washed away.
Height shrinking.
Posture collapsing.
Features refining into something more delicate.
More fragile.
More… false.
Dandara.
Her eyes gleamed with something far from innocent.
— Took you long enough — she said, tilting her head. — I thought you'd notice sooner.
The air in the room was heavy now.
Dense.
Too sweet.
Theodor did not answer.
He already understood.
Too late.
Elizabeth's words returned like a blow to his gut, shattering the illusion he had clung to for years.
"She is not a child anymore. You are not children. She does not see you as a brother… or a friend… but as a man."
— You shouldn't be here — his voice came low, tightly controlled. — Where is Elizabeth? Why were you pretending to be her? What the hell do you think you're doing?
His emotions clashed violently. He had always protected her, kept her close, given her everything to make her feel at home.
Dandara laughed softly.
Almost childish.
Almost.
— Running — she replied. — As always.
She rose slowly.
— You really don't know? Or you refuse to see the reason? The truth?
She stepped closer.
— Chasing the sister she loves so dearly… the one who delivered her to the fate that was always hers… — her tone was light. Too light. — Or rather… chasing what I made her believe. What the council prepared so patiently.
Theodor's eyes hardened.
— You—
— No, she will not be Luna — she cut in, her voice shifting. Hardening. Finally revealing what had always been there. — Not at your side.
Silence.
The kind that comes before violence.
— I was chosen — she continued, closer now, bolder. — By the council. By the elders. By those who still think before bowing to a girl who believes she was born blessed.
He did not move.
Damn his own body. He tried… but his muscles did not respond.
His body… grew heavy.
Subtle.
Insidious.
The air.
It was the air.
He inhaled deeper.
A mistake.
The sweetness burned inside him.
— You always said… — Dandara whispered, too close now — that you saw no malice in me. Your friend. Your closest companion since we were children.
Her hand rose, brushing his chest.
Disgust hit him. For the first time in years, real disgust.
— That I was pure.
His fists clenched.
His teeth ground.
Trying to react.
Trying—
Heavy.
Everything heavy.
— I believed that for so long… — her voice trembled. Not from weakness. From obsession. — Until I realized purity conquers nothing. That being beside you was what I wanted. Not as a friend. Not as that childish image… but—
Her hand slid lower.
— As your partner. As your woman. As your Luna. The only one worthy. The only one compatible. The one who knows you. Understands you.
She leaned closer.
Almost touching.
— But power… conquers everything.
Theodor's vision blurred.
One second…
Two…
He tried to strike her. To shove her away. To crush her. That manipulative, vile snake he had kept at his side for nearly twenty years.
His body did not obey.
"Damn you."
He thought.
"Cursed existence."
His body was no longer his.
— You… betrayed… — his voice dragged.
Dandara smiled.
Now without any mask.
— I corrected a mistake.
She leaned in, her face near his.
The perfume turned his stomach.
— And you will understand… when you wake.
Revulsion surged. Bile rose violently, cutting him off.
The world tilted.
The ground rose.
Or he fell.
Hard to tell.
The last thing he saw…
was her gaze.
Not fragile.
Never was.
Just well hidden.
And then…
darkness.
Heavy.
Forced.
Silent.
Outside, the banquet continued.
Lyres played.
Goblets rang.
And no one there…
had the slightest idea that the future Alpha lay on the floor of his own chamber…
poisoned by a lie he himself had fed for years.
And somewhere far from there…
Elizabeth ran straight into a trap crafted perfectly for someone who had always believed too much in love.