< Chapter 106
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The sanctuary’s library wasn’t a room.
It was a labyrinth.
Hidden beneath Kael’s quarters, it unfurled like roots beneath the mountain–each corridor more twisted than the last, each chamber laced with firelight and dust and secrets so old they had teeth. It wasn’t open to the others. Not even to the inner circle. Kael had told me once it was a remnant of a time before his reign, built by wolves who believed that knowledge was the truest form of control. That was the only time he ever spoke of it.
So when I used his sigil to unlock the gate and stepped inside alone, I knew exactly what I was risking.
But I needed answers.
The dreams had changed again.
They weren’t just visions anymore. They bled into my waking hours–brief flashes of symbols, names, emotions that weren‘ t mine. Sometimes I felt like I was watching my own life through someone else’s eyes. I would reach for the fire and it would pull away, as if even my magic no longer trusted me to hold it without unraveling something deeper.
I needed to know why.
The first section of the archive was filled with familiar tomes–histories of rogue lineages, accounts of the early days of the rebellion, a few forbidden Council transcripts Kael had “liberated.” But deeper, beyond the walls etched in old rune- scratches, the tone of the room shifted.
The firelight dimmed.
The stone grew colder.
And the books… began to hum.
I found it in the fifth alcove–a small journal bound in cracked obsidian leather, sealed with an intricate rune I didn’t
recognize. But the moment I touched it, the flame beneath my skin responded like it had found a heartbeat that matched
its own.
The rune dissolved.
The book opened.
And the first word I saw was:
Veilborn.
I didn’t breathe.
The word looked simple. Sharp lines. Slender stroke. But it rippled on the page, alive with old magic. There was no explanation, no translation–just a name, and below it, a list.
I scanned it, expecting ancient titles, forgotten bloodlines.
Instead, I found three names:
Kael. Nathaniel Morningstar. Maximus Laker.
My blood turned to ice.
I sat down hard against the stone shelf, heart racing. The three most powerful wolves I had ever met. All marked with the same title. A title I had never heard before.
I flipped the page.
The script changed. Older now. Written in what looked like burned ink, curled across the parchment like smoke trapped in words.
Veilborns are not born of blood, but of breach. They rise when the leyline ruptures, when shadow and flame touch in equal measure. They do not age. They do not fade. But their power cannot anchor itself alone.
They require the flame.
I read it again. Slower this time.
They require the flame.
Kael.
Chapter 106
And me.
I wasn’t just the flame.
I was the anchor.
Or worse–the fuel.
My mouth went dry. I kept turning pages, frantic now. Diagrams followed–old drawings of wolves bound in rings of fire, their shadows split behind them like echoes. Runes etched into their chests. Their eyes lit not with color, but with something void–like. One looked eerily like Kael. Another–a younger version of Nayor Max Or both.
The final page bore no writing.
Just a symbol.
The same rune from my Trial. The one that had pulsed across my skin when the three versions of me had stood waiting in the flame.
I snapped the book shut.
And I ran.
I didn’t know how long it took me to reach Kael’s chamber, only that the doors were already open when I arrived, as if he’d known I would come. He stood at the center of the room, not surprised. Not even curious.
Prepared.
“You knew,” I said.
He didn’t flinch. “I know many things.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“I could have.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
I stepped forward, fists clenched. “Why?”
Kael’s gaze didn’t shift. “Because you weren’t ready.”
“Ready?” My voice cracked. “To find out I’m not the chosen one, I’m the battery?”
He didn’t answer.
“So it’s true,” I whispered. “You, Nate, Maximus… you’re Veilborn. And I’m the flame you use to stay alive.”
He exhaled slowly. “It’s not as simple as that.”
“Isn’t it?” I asked. “You’re powerful. You’re ageless. I’ve seen it. You don’t sleep. You don’t tire. And the others… they’re starting to fracture. Nate’s scar is pulsing like it’s trying to regrow. Maximus has stopped talking about the future like it exists.”
Kael’s silence was confirmation.
I kept going.
“So is that why you brought me here?” My voice dropped. “Was this ever about me? Or just about what I could give you?”
Finally, something shifted in his face. Not guilt. Not regret.
Something older.
“Once, I burned alone,” he said. “The world could not hold me. I watched centuries fall around me like leaves. But then the first flame came–and she made it bearable. Not safe. Not gentle. But anchored.”
I stared. “You loved her.”
“Yes.”
“And now you’re trying again.”
He didn’t deny it.
But he didn’t nod either.
“You want me to be her,” I said.
“No,” he whispered. “I want you to be more.”
The fire flickered in the hearth behind him, casting long shadows across the stone.
“And what happens,” I asked, “when I stop fueling you? When I choose someone else?”
Kael looked at me, finally. Really looked.
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And in his eyes, I saw it–not fear.
But hunger.
He stepped forward once.
“You’ll always come back to the flame.”
I stepped back.
“No,” I said. “You come from it. I am it.”
He didn’t move again.
I turned and left the chamber, the weight of the journal still in my hand, the truth heavier than any crown Kael had ever offered.
That night, I stood in my room and stared at the cracked stone floor.
I let the book fall open beside the flame.
I reached for the heat–and for the first time in days, it didn’t pull back.
It curled around me.
Gentle.
Waiting.
As if asking me:
Now that you know, what will you burn next?
