Lucien turned to face him, his tone grave.
"To everyone who still believes the blood of the First Magic is gone. If word spreads that a Lunaris wolf survived…" He paused, eyes sharp as steel. "Every Alpha in the continent would come for him, not to save him, but to destroy him."
Silence filled the chamber, heavy and foreboding.
Rowan exhaled slowly. "What will you do?"
Lucien looked down at the book one last time, the faint sigils glowing in the torchlight. His thoughts were already elsewhere, on the quiet omega who somehow protected his son, and the strange, mysterious power that lingered whenever the boy smiled.
"Nothing," Lucien said finally. "For now, he stays. And no one must know what he is, not even him."
Rowan nodded reluctantly. "You're protecting him."
Lucien's gaze hardened. "I'm protecting my son."
But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't the whole truth. Something deeper, older, and inexplicable was stirring, a bond not forged by the Moon, but by something far more magical. And as Lucien left the sanctum, the faint pulse of the wards followed him, lingering through the stones, as if the mansion itself knew what he had discovered.
The days that followed were peaceful, almost deceptively so. The mansion had returned to its calm rhythm, the servants whispering through the halls, the scent of warm tea and polished wood lingering in the air.
Devon had begun his duties as the young heir's caretaker, keeping to himself as always. He was gentle with the child, patient and quiet, though there was a haunted distance in his eyes. He moved through the house like a shadow, seen, but not truly noticed.
Yet, beneath that calm, something inside him had begun to stir.
It started one night when he awoke from another nightmare, the faces of his pack haunting him again, the echo of his rejection still ringing in his bones. He sat up in the dim light of the servant's quarters, clutching his chest, feeling that same faint warmth in his veins he had felt the night of the assassination.
He looked down at his hands. The faintest shimmer pulsed beneath his skin, a glow, silver and blue, fleeting like moonlight reflecting on water.
"…What are you?" he whispered to himself.
There was no answer.
But something, instinct, perhaps, guided him to the drawer near his bed. He found a small piece of chalk and a scrap of paper. He didn't know why, but his hand began to move. Lines curved into symbols he had never seen, his strokes steady, precise, as if he had drawn them all his life.
A circle. A spiral. A rune.
The moment he finished the last mark, the chalk cracked in his fingers. The rune glowed faintly before burning out into ash.
Devon stared at it, trembling.
He didn't understand, but he knew what he had seen wasn't ordinary. Magic wasn't something wolves could wield. Only witches and warlocks, humans born of old bloodlines, could harness such forces. And yet, when he had protected the boy that night… something in him had responded.
Curiosity gnawed at him until it became impossible to ignore.
The next night, he tried again. This time, he pricked his finger with a sewing needle, letting a drop of his blood fall on the wooden floor. He used it as ink, sketching the same pattern, but this time guided by an inner whisper, not thought.
The moment the rune was completed, the air around him shifted. The candles flickered to life, the faint hum of energy crackling around the room like invisible lightning. Devon gasped, a surge of raw power coursing through him, vibrant and warm, almost intoxicating. He could feel the pulse of magic responding to his blood.
But with that power came pain. His chest burned, his vision blurred. It felt as though something was being drained from him, his strength, his breath, his life itself. The rune glowed brilliantly for a heartbeat, then collapsed into darkness.
Devon fell to his knees, panting, his body trembling violently. He pressed a hand to the floor, his own blood smearing beneath his palm.
"It… it works," he whispered, his voice shaking. "But it's killing me."
He stayed like that for a long while, staring at the faded mark that had burned into the wood. There was fear, yes, but also something else. A dangerous, forbidden thrill.
For the first time in his life, he felt powerful. Not weak. Not an omega to be pitied or beaten. Something within him, something powerful, was waking. And yet, he told no one.
He hid the small burns on his fingers beneath gloves. He smiled softly when the little boy hugged him each morning. He continued his duties as if nothing had changed. But every night, when the mansion slept, he drew runes in secret.
He learned that certain symbols brought light. Others sharpened his senses. One, when drawn with enough blood, could strengthen his body for a brief moment, enough to feel like the Alpha he never was. But each use took something from him.
The more he used his blood, the colder he felt. His reflection in the mirror grew paler, his eyes faintly silvering. And the mansion itself began to respond. The walls hummed softly when he passed, the wards shifting like they recognized him.
He didn't understand it, not yet, but he could sense that whatever he was becoming, it was something that had been asleep for a very long time. And if anyone found out, if Lucien or the pack's scholars learned what he was capable of, he knew they wouldn't see him as a savior.
They would see him as a threat. So Devon kept his secret. Even as the power grew. Even as it slowly consumed him from within.
Morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of the Ravenmoon mansion, painting the nursery in gold. The little heir, Elias, giggled as he ran barefoot across the carpet, clutching a small wooden wolf.
"Devon! Look! He can run faster than you!" the child teased, laughing as he pretended to make the toy leap across the room.
Devon smiled faintly from where he sat by the window, mending one of Elias's torn shirts. The boy's laughter had become something precious to him, a sound that filled the hollow places in his heart.
"You're right," Devon replied softly. "Maybe your wolf's faster because he has magic feet."
Elias's blue eyes widened. "Magic? Really?"