"In a palace lit with gold and lies, even freedom had to wear a mask."
The grand hall was alive with music, laughter, and the low hum of whispered conversations, the air thick with power and ancient bloodlines. Everywhere Raven looked, there were alphas—dominant, commanding, their auras sharp and intimidating. Lunas stood by their sides, poised and regal, while the witches' coven, their cloaks flowing like shadows, glided silently through the crowd. Kings, with crowns of gold and eyes that saw far too much, mingled with the elite, the scent of danger thick in every exchange.
The chandeliers overhead gleamed like a constellation, casting an eerie light over the gathering. The air felt oppressive, each conversation holding a weight Raven could barely begin to understand. She felt small, insignificant beneath the gaze of those who wielded power like weapons.
She shouldn't have come. Raven's fingers tightened around the glass in her hand, her pulse quickening as the crowd pressed in on her. It felt like a gilded cage, everyone moving with purpose, everyone playing their roles. Her mind kept flashing back to the coven, to the prophecy, to Mougeese's words.
Raven's heart pounded. She had to get out of here. Now.
She knew what this party was about—alliances, politics, power. It wasn't just a celebration; it was a game, and she had no place in it. There was a fire inside of her now, a desperate urge to flee, to find the freedom she'd always been denied. Her eyes scanned the room, the exit just beyond the thick clusters of powerful figures.
That's when she saw Sage.
The witch's daughter was standing near the corner, her vibrant green eyes scanning the room with a mixture of curiosity and frustration. There was something about her that drew Raven's attention, something that felt... familiar. Sage seemed out of place too—her posture rigid, her lips pressed into a tight line, as if she were waiting for something. Or perhaps, as Raven soon realized, someone.
Before Raven could move, Sage's eyes locked onto hers, and in that moment, something passed between them—an unspoken understanding. Sage didn't need to say a word for Raven to know she was not here because she wanted to be.
In a flash, Raven made her decision.
She turned and weaved through the crowd, ignoring the startled glances as she ducked into a hallway that led to the back of the estate. The exit was near. She could almost taste the freedom.
But just as she reached for the door, a voice cut through the silence, stopping her dead in her tracks.
"You're leaving already?"
Raven spun around to find Sage standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable. She wasn't surprised to see her here. If anything, it felt like the collision had been inevitable.
"I need to go," Raven said, her voice trembling with the urgency of the moment. "I don't belong here."
Sage's gaze softened, but there was a spark of defiance in her eyes. "I don't either. Let me come with you."
Raven hesitated. She had no idea what Sage's motivations were, but the look in her eyes told her that whatever cage Sage was trapped in, it was as strong as her own. For the first time since arriving at the party, Raven didn't feel so alone.
"Are you sure?" Raven asked, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.
Sage nodded, stepping closer. "I've been waiting for a chance to leave. I can't stay here any longer."
Without another word, the two of them turned toward the door, stepping into the night, leaving the grand, suffocating hall behind.
The clinking of crystal glasses echoed through the grand hall as the toast was made. Laughter and applause rippled through the crowd—until Queen Mougeese stepped forward, her presence commanding the attention of even the most powerful alphas and royals present.
"Tonight," she began, her voice smooth and regal, "I present to you the future of the witches' lineage—my daughter, Sage Cade, heir to the coven."
There was a brief murmur of curiosity—this was a surprise to many. But before the crowd could fully process it, Mougeese paused. Her eyes swept the room, and her voice faltered ever so slightly.
Sage was nowhere to be found.
Across the hall, John's spine stiffened. A pulse of dread tore through his chest. He immediately reached for the twin bond—the connection that had always tied him and Raven—but it was... silent.
Dead.
His heart slammed in his chest.
"No," he muttered, panic bleeding into his voice. Then louder—too loud—he shouted across the silent hall. "Where is she?!"
He strode forward like a storm barely held back. The crowd parted as John's furious presence carved a path toward the witch queen.
"What did you do to her?" he growled, eyes flashing gold, voice ragged with panic and fury. "This is your fault! If you hadn't started spouting your cursed prophecy yesterday, she wouldn't have run! You scared her off!"
The room erupted in confusion. Shocked murmurs surged through the crowd, but before it could spiral further, a commanding voice rang out.
"Enough."
The Alpha King rose to his feet, his expression unreadable but heavy with command. "The gathering is over. We'll continue in the throne room. Now."
The Throne Room
The heavy doors closed behind them with a thunderous echo. The throne room pulsed with unease. John paced furiously near the center, his fists clenched, his control fraying.
Too much had happened. Too quickly. And now Raven—his sister, his twin—was gone. Again.
Alpha King Henry Lockwood entered with a grim expression, exhaustion dragging at his features. He looked as though he'd aged a decade in the last few days. Tensions at the borders, mounting complaints from allied packs, and now his daughter either missing or stolen—his kingdom was cracking at the seams.
"I've sent trackers out," Henry said, voice low and tight. "They're following what little trail remains. But first... I want to hear from the queen."
All eyes turned to Mougeese, who stepped forward without fear, her expression still composed.
"She came to the coven by her own will," Mougeese began. "And she left the same way. I did not force her. But... she heard the prophecy. And I believe it awakened something in her."
The queen's voice dropped to a chilling, distant tone as she recited the vision.
"The threads of fate have begun to tighten.
The blood of the forgotten.
The bond of the broken.
A love that can either heal... or destroy."
Silence blanketed the room like a shroud.
Then—a knock. A maid entered, trembling slightly, holding something in her hand.
"I-I found this by the garden gate," she said, holding out a parchment sealed with a Lockwood crest.
Henry took it and opened it quickly. His eyes scanned the words once. Then again. His hands tightened around the edges.
"She's alive," he said quietly. "She says not to look for her... that she needs time."
A sharp breath of relief escaped John—but it was short-lived.
The doors slammed open.
A bloodied warrior rushed in, breathless. "Your Majesty—the south border is under attack. Rogue forces. Dozens of them. We need reinforcements—now!"
The room sprang into action.