“If You Die Here, I Follow You Into Hell” He Growled, Holding Her As The Burning Beam Fell And A Hidden Enemy Revealed Itself

The green flame did not behave like fire. It moved like something alive, hungry, intelligent—curling through the corridor in spirals that avoided stone and devoured air.

The heat alone should have killed them. Instead, it pressed against them, as if choosing how slowly they would die.

Faelan didn’t flinch. He tightened his grip around Livia Hastings and shifted his body fully in front of her, becoming a wall between her and extinction.

“Don’t look,” he ordered, voice shredded but still commanding. “Stay behind me.” But Livia wasn’t looking at the fire anymore.

She was looking at him. At the way his shoulders trembled under strain that even an Alpha body shouldn’t endure.

At the blood slipping from his lip where smoke had burned too deep. At the way his instincts, raw and feral, refused to release her even as death closed in.

Something in her chest twisted. Not fear. Recognition. The green flame surged forward. And then it stopped.

Not extinguished. Halted. Like an invisible hand had seized the fire itself. From the far end of the corridor, the shadow holding the lantern stepped closer.

The figure tilted its head, studying them like insects trapped in glass. “You were meant to burn quietly,” it whispered again.

The voice was wrong. Not fully male. Not fully human. It carried a double echo, like someone speaking through another throat.

Faelan growled low. “Show yourself.” The shadow laughed. And lifted its free hand. The corridor behind them collapsed inward.

Not with impact. With pressure. Stone bent. Wood twisted. Iron bars screamed as if something unseen was crushing the castle from the outside.

Livia staggered. “What is that?” She whispered. Faelan’s eyes narrowed. Then, something stranger happened. The mate bond between them flared.

Not warm. Not comforting. Warning. A violent pulse of instinct slammed through both of them at once, as if their souls had just recognized a third presence woven into their connection.

Faelan froze. “No,” he breathed. That single word carried something Livia had never heard in him before.

Fear. The shadow took another step. And the lantern’s green flame suddenly split into three.

Three identical lights hovered in the air, circling like predators. “You should have been erased the night you were born, Livia Hastings,” the voice said gently.

Her name in its mouth sounded like something stolen. Faelan moved. Too fast to see.

One moment he was in front of her. The next, he was gone—appearing between her and the shadow, claws extended, aura erupting in a violent golden shockwave that shattered nearby stone.

“Touch her,” he said softly, “and I will erase you from every realm you think you belong to.”

The shadow didn’t retreat. It leaned closer. And whispered something only Faelan could hear. His expression changed instantly.

Not rage. Not shock. Something far worse. Recognition. “You…” Faelan said, voice suddenly hollow. Livia’s stomach dropped.

Because she had never seen him lose control of his face before. “What is it?”

She demanded. Faelan didn’t answer her. His eyes were locked on the shadow. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he said quietly.

The lantern flickered. And the green flames exploded outward. The corridor vanished. — When Livia regained awareness, she was no longer in the burning wing.

Cold stone pressed against her back. The air smelled of iron and old water. A prison.

She pushed herself up instantly, coughing. “Faelan?” No answer. Her pulse spiked. “Faelan!” Silence. Then a slow sound behind her.

Clink. Clink. Chains. She turned sharply. And froze. The room was enormous, carved deep into the mountain beneath the castle.

Ancient symbols covered the walls—older than the Vandare court itself. In the center stood a circular stone platform, surrounded by broken restraints.

And hanging above it, suspended by black iron chains, was Faelan. Alive. Barely. His head was lowered, blood dried across his chest, his arms stretched wide as if the chains had been designed specifically for his body.

But that wasn’t what made Livia’s breath stop. The chains were not just metal. They were engraved with runes.

Wolfsbane runes. Anti-alpha seals. Designed to suppress healing. Designed to suppress transformation. Designed… to hold something that should never be able to be held.

“Faelan…” her voice cracked. His head lifted slowly. Even restrained, even bleeding, his eyes were still golden.

Still burning. “Run,” he said hoarsely. Livia stepped forward instead. “No.” A faint flicker of something like relief crossed his face.

Then it vanished. Because the sound of footsteps echoed from the far side of the chamber.

Slow. Unhurried. The shadow entered again. Now fully visible. Not a man. Not entirely. It wore a body like skin stitched over something incomplete.

Its face shifted subtly, as if multiple expressions were fighting for dominance. The lantern floated beside it, still burning green.

“Touching,” it said. “The Alpha King still pretending he can protect his mistake.” Livia’s hands curled.

“Who are you?” The figure tilted its head. “You don’t remember me,” it said softly.

Then it looked at Faelan. “But he does.” Faelan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t speak,” Faelan warned.

The shadow smiled wider. “Tell her, then,” it said. “Or I will.” Silence stretched. Something unbearable built between them.

Then Faelan spoke. His voice was raw. “This is Kael Vire.” The name hit the air like a crack in reality.

Livia frowned. “I’ve never—” “He’s dead,” Faelan cut in sharply. “He was erased during the First Blood Treaty war.”

Kael Vire laughed. “Oh, I was erased,” he agreed pleasantly. “Just not completely.” He stepped closer to the chains.

“You remember the war, Alpha King,” Kael said. “You remember what we built together.” Faelan’s expression darkened.

“Don’t you dare.” Livia’s gaze snapped between them. “Built… together?” Kael turned to her. And something in his gaze sharpened with interest.

“Oh,” he said softly. “He didn’t tell you what you are.” Faelan’s aura exploded. “Stop talking.”

But Kael continued anyway. “You’re not just a healer, Livia Hastings.” The lantern flared. “You’re the key.”

The chamber trembled. Livia took a step back. “What does that mean?” Kael raised a hand.

And the chains around Faelan tightened instantly, forcing a strangled sound from his throat. “Don’t touch her,” Faelan growled, struggling.

Kael ignored him. “The mate bond you feel,” he said to Livia, “is not natural.”

Her blood ran cold. Faelan went still. That silence meant something worse than pain. Kael smiled.

“It was engineered.” For a moment, there was only the sound of dripping water. Then Livia whispered, “That’s impossible.”

Kael tilted his head. “Is it?” The lantern flickered again, and suddenly images burned into the air around them—fragments of memory, flickering like shattered glass.

A younger Faelan. A war council. A ritual chamber. And a woman lying unconscious on stone as silver runes were carved into the air above her heart.

Livia staggered back. “No…” Faelan’s voice cut through the vision like a blade. “Stop showing her that.”

Kael leaned closer to him. “You didn’t tell her,” he murmured. “You let her believe she was chosen.”

Faelan’s teeth clenched. “I protected her.” Kael laughed softly. “You bound her.” The visions shifted.

Livia saw herself. Not as she was now. But as a child. A strange marking glowing faintly under her skin.

A seal. Her breath caught. “What… is that?” Faelan’s voice dropped. “Livia—don’t listen to him.”

But Kael’s voice wrapped around hers like smoke. “That mark,” Kael said gently, “is why every major Alpha house wanted your sister first.”

Livia froze. “The treaty wasn’t about Genevieve,” Kael continued. “It was about you.” The chamber tilted.

Her heart pounded violently. Faelan roared suddenly, yanking against the chains with enough force to split bone.

“Enough!” But Kael was already smiling. “And now,” he said softly, “the seal is reacting.”

The green flame in the lantern surged violently. The ground beneath Livia cracked. A pulse erupted from her chest—bright, painful, undeniable.

Faelan’s eyes widened. “No…” he whispered. Kael stepped back. “Too late,” he said. The chamber’s ancient runes lit up one by one.

Like something had just awakened. Something that had been waiting inside her all along. And as the chains around Faelan began to fracture under an unseen pressure, Kael Vire whispered the final words that froze everything into horror:

“The queen was never the substitute.” “She was the lock.” “And now the thing inside her is finally remembering how to open.”

The stone beneath Livia split open— —and something deep below began to breathe.