Chapter 69: The Royal Bloodline
The journey back to the palace had been quiet. Aveloria didn’t say a word during the entire ride. Her thoughts were too heavy. Everything Elder Thalos had revealed still replayed in her mind — the truth about her bloodline, the prophecy, and Eirene’s secret.
When their horses stopped at the palace gates, she stepped down first. The guards bowed, and Galen followed close behind. She gave one of the guards a brief nod before handing over the reins of the horse. Her body ached from exhaustion, her head heavy from everything she’d learned.
"You need to rest, Aveloria. I’ll handle the rest." Galen said softly, watching her.
She nodded. "Thank you, Galen."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but she turned away before he could. She climbed the long staircase that led to her chamber, her steps dragging slightly. When she finally entered, she let out a quiet sigh and closed the door behind her.
The room was silent except for the faint crackling of the fireplace. Aveloria removed her boots, her cloak, and the jewelry she wore, except for the amulet Elder Thalos had given her. She paused for a moment, holding it in her hand, tracing the worn symbols engraved on its surface. It felt oddly warm against her skin.
She undressed slowly and stepped into the bath prepared earlier by one of the maids. The water was hot, soothing the stiffness in her body. She closed her eyes, sinking deeper into it, allowing herself to breathe finally.
Her mind drifted back to her uncle’s words: "Your mother also used it when she began to sense her gift. It will help guide you. The spirit of your ancestors resides in it. Keep it close."
Aveloria wasn’t sure she wanted to be guided. The weight of it all was too much. The kingdom, the prophecy, the betrayal, it was already enough to break anyone. She stayed in the water until her skin wrinkled, then climbed out, dried herself, and slipped into a thin nightdress.
She lay down on the bed and turned onto her side. The moonlight from the balcony cast a faint glow across the room. The amulet rested against her chest, rising and falling with every tired breath. She was asleep in minutes.
Hours later, the palace was silent. The halls were dark. The torches had burned low.
In her sleep, Aveloria stirred. The amulet around her neck began to glow, a soft pulse of light that brightened gradually until it filled the room.
Her body twitched, and her breathing became shallow. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, restless and alert.
Then, everything went still.
Aveloria’s eyes fluttered open, but she wasn’t in her chamber anymore. She stood in a vast, dimly lit hall that seemed to stretch endlessly. The air was thick and cold, and whispers echoed from every direction, dozens of voices, maybe hundreds.
Her heart pounded as she turned slowly, trying to see where she was. The ground beneath her was translucent, reflecting shifting shapes. Then she saw them.
Figures. Women dressed in royal garments, crowns glinting on their heads. Some stood tall; others were on their knees, wounded or fading. Their faces were different, yet they all had something in common: the same eyes as hers.
"Who are you?" Aveloria asked, her voice trembling.
A soft voice answered first. "We are you. We are every Queen who ruled before you."
The words echoed in her head. She took a slow step back, her pulse racing. "What do you want from me?"
Another voice, sharper, older: "To remember."
The scene around her shifted before she could react. The dark hall dissolved, and suddenly she was watching a memory or something close to it. A woman stood on a high balcony, wearing the royal crest of Lycanthria. She was beautiful, proud, and strong. Aveloria recognized her instantly.
"Mother!"
Aveloria stepped closer instinctively, though she knew this wasn’t real. She could smell the faint scent of herbs and smoke in the air. The Queen, her mother, was speaking softly, but there was fear in her voice.
"I trusted you," she said to someone out of view. "You were like a sister to me."
Then Eirene stepped into the light. Her face was calm, almost sorrowful. But her eyes were cold.
"You were weak," Eirene said. "You ruled with mercy when you should have ruled with power."
Her mother reached for something from her inner garment, a necklace, glowing faintly as she tried to point it toward Eirene, but she was faster. She raised her hand, and dark smoke spilled from her fingers, wrapping around the Queen’s throat.
Aveloria’s breath caught. "No—"
Her mother gasped for air, trying to fight back, her hands reached for her neck as she tried to mutter a spell. But Eirene’s power was stronger. The dark magic forced its way into her chest, twisting violently. The Queen coughed once, then again, this time expelling thick, black blood.
Her body convulsed, the spell collapsing mid-air.
Aveloria screamed, though no sound came out. She tried to reach her mother, but her hand passed through the vision.
Her mother fell to her knees, the life leaving her eyes. Eirene’s expression didn’t change; if anything, she seemed almost pleased.
"You should have known better. Everything will belong to me now. Your mate, kingdom, and children." Eirene whispered before turning away.
The scene dissolved again.
Aveloria found herself back in the endless hall. Her hands were shaking. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The whispers around her grew louder, heavier.
One voice, faint but close, spoke: "The bloodline must remember its pain to rise again."
The glow from the amulet brightened even more, sending shocks through her system, forcing her to close her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw something else, another set of visions, sharper and more familiar.
Her past life.
She saw herself or the version of her from before. The same face, the same eyes, but different. Older, more trusting.
Then she saw Rowena. Her expression was soft at first, then twisted with something cruel. Marek stood beside her, his arm around her waist. They were together. Laughing. Touching.
The betrayal cut deeper than any blade.
