The chamber shook with the force of the Guardian's voice.
Ysolde staggered backward, Kael's arm locking around her waist to steady her. The obsidian creature stepped off the platform, each movement soundless but heavy—like a mountain shifting shape to walk.
Its molten eyes fixed on Ysolde.
"Queen of the Old Blood," it repeated.
"Choose your heir.
Or be consumed."
Her throat tightened.
"I don't— I don't understand. I'm not—"
"You were chosen when the ritual woke your blood," the Guardian said. "The mountain recognizes you. The heart has opened. You have been crowned."
Kael snarled.
"She didn't choose anything. She didn't ask for any of this."
The Guardian turned its head slowly toward him.
"You are bound to her," it said.
"Your life answers her pulse. Your rage answers her fear. You are not her equal. You are her shadow."
Kael's claws extended.
He placed himself in front of Ysolde without hesitation.
"Say that again."
The Guardian didn't blink.
It didn't need to.
"You," it said calmly, "are a king in name only. The mountain's throne is hers. Its power is hers. Its destiny is hers."
Kael's breathing turned sharp and furious, but Ysolde grabbed his arm.
"Kael. Stop."
He looked at her—silver eyes blazing.
"If it touches you—"
"It won't," she whispered.
The Guardian inclined its head.
"You must choose your heir," it said again.
"Your bloodline cannot remain dormant. The mountain requires a successor. Without one, your power will consume you."
Ysolde's blood ran cold.
"Consume me… how?"
The Guardian raised a hand.
A crimson light spiraled up its arm, shifting into shapes—runes, symbols, scenes.
Ysolde recognized the woman from her vision—the queen of the Old Blood—standing alone, power erupting from her body in uncontrollable waves. Fire burned the forests. Wolves screamed. Kings bowed under the weight of her magic.
"She was too strong," the Guardian said.
"And too alone. Without an heir to share the burden, her power devoured her mind and burned the mountain."
Ysolde swallowed.
"But that won't happen to me. I don't want power—"
"Power does not care what you want," the Guardian replied.
Kael growled, stepping forward.
"Then I'll take the power from her. I'll carry it. I'll take whatever burden she can't."
The Guardian stared at him.
"You cannot."
"Why not?" Kael snapped.
"You are not of her blood."
The runes pulsed.
"Only one who shares her magic can be heir."
Kael stiffened.
Ysolde's pulse skittered.
"My bloodline…" she whispered. "You're saying it can only continue if—"
"Yes."
The Guardian's molten eyes narrowed.
"By choosing a mate. One who will carry your power forward."
Kael went very, very still.
Not breathing.
Barely blinking.
The Guardian continued:
"Your heir will be born of magic and command. They will carry the crimson pulse. They will inherit the throne. You must choose a mate strong enough to survive your blood."
Kael's jaw flexed.
"And if she chooses none?" he asked quietly, dangerously.
The Guardian raised both arms.
The cavern walls trembled.
"Then the mountain will consume its queen. And all wolves will fall."
Silence crushed the chamber.
Ysolde's heart slammed against her ribs.
"I don't want—" She shook her head, fighting panic. "I can't— I can't choose something like that. I don't want a throne. I don't want an heir. I just want—"
"Freedom?" the Guardian finished.
"A human desire. But you are no longer human."
Kael stepped between them again, lips curling back into a feral snarl.
"She's still Ysolde."
"Yes," the Guardian agreed. "And she will die as Ysolde if she refuses the throne."
Kael's breath hitched.
Ysolde felt her vision blur.
"Stop." She pressed a hand to her forehead, trembling. "Stop—please—just stop."
Her heartbeat surged—
And the runes blazed brighter in response.
Kael grabbed her shoulders.
"Ysolde. Listen to me. Don't let it push you. You don't have to choose anything right now."
The Guardian tilted its head.
"She does."
The runes glowed dangerously.
"If she delays, her pulse will destabilize. Her bloodline will awaken anyway. If she has no mate—no heir—her magic will consume her."
Kael snapped.
"THEN I'LL BE HER HEIR."
The chamber froze.
The Guardian stared at him.
"Impossible."
"It's me," Kael growled. "It's always been me. She's mine."
Ysolde's breath stilled.
Kael didn't even look at her. His gaze stayed locked on the Guardian, silver burning with fury.
"Test me."
The Guardian shook its head.
"You do not carry the crimson magic."
"Then give it to me."
"You would die."
Kael stepped closer, ignoring the warm blood dripping down his back.
"Let me try."
The Guardian finally looked away.
"Only one ritual can bind an unblooded mate to a queen," it said.
"The Rite of Claiming."
Ysolde froze, cold prickling down her spine.
"What is that?"
The Guardian's molten gaze turned to her.
"A union ritual. Ancient. Absolute. If the mate survives, their souls bind. Their magic merges. Their life becomes one pulse."
Kael inhaled sharply.
Ysolde whispered,
"And if he doesn't survive?"
The Guardian didn't soften.
"He dies."
Kael didn't even hesitate.
"I'll do it."
Ysolde spun to him.
"Kael—NO—"
He cupped her face with one bloodied hand.
"Yes."
Her breath stuttered.
"You don't understand," she whispered, gripping his wrist. "If you die— I—"
"Ysolde."
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.
"It's my choice. And I'm choosing you."
Her vision blurred.
"You don't even know what choosing me means."
He exhaled a shaky laugh.
"Then tell me."
Her lips parted—
But the Guardian cut in.
"The Rite begins when the queen chooses her mate."
Kael's hand tightened on hers.
"Choose me."
The chamber pulsed.
The runes brightened.
Ysolde shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes.
"I can't. I can't risk your life. I can't—"
Kael's voice softened—broken in a way she hadn't heard before.
"You are my life."
Her heart twisted painfully.
"Ysolde," he whispered,
"let me be yours."
And then—
A voice echoed from the shadows behind them.
"You're too late."
Both Ysolde and Kael whipped toward the sound.
The Alpha stepped from the darkness, untouched, uninjured, eyes blazing.
"You fall," he murmured, "and still the mountain keeps you alive."
Kael snarled, pushing Ysolde behind him.
The Alpha looked straight at her, lips curling in a slow, hungry smile.
"You want a mate, little queen?"
He spread his arms wide.
"Choose me."