Chapter 6

The mountain trail was treacherous. Snow had buried the path ankle-deep.

Seraphina took each step slowly, like she was pressing her feet down onto knife blades. Every time her knees bent, pain ripped through her body in waves so violent her whole frame shuddered.

Ivy gripped her arm, weeping silently with every step.

They were halfway down the mountain when a howl split the dark.

Then — eyes. Twin points of pale green glowing in the black, then more, and more.

Witches?

How could there be witches here? Before Serafina could even think, Ivy was already trembling—but she still stood in front of Serafina.

"Your Highness, run! I'll hold them off!"

Seraphina tried to grab her, but it was too late. The witches' fiery arrows were already raining down on them, capable of instantly stripping werewolves of all their strength.

"Ah—!" Ivy screamed, blood splattering onto the snow.

Seraphina drew a dagger from her waist, unleashing the unique aura of a lycan, and moved into a giant white wolf, charging towards the witches. But the witches outnumbered her, unleashing their magic from a distance. By the time she had finally driven them all away, Ivy had collapsed beside her, the ground beneath her feet stained dark red, her face almost as red as the snow.

"Your Highness... run... don't worry about me..."

Seraphina's carefully held composure cracked.

This was the girl who had grown up beside her. Her last remaining sister.

"Ivy." Seraphina's voice shook. "Ivy, stay with me — keep your eyes open—"

She didn't let herself panic. She clenched her teeth, hoisted Ivy onto her back, and started climbing.

Up. Back toward the Sanctum.

She didn't know how long she walked. She only knew that every step burned her to the bone, and she didn't stop, because she couldn't afford to.

Finally, the gates of the Snowveil Sanctum appeared through the dark.

She stumbled forward and pounded her fist against the wood.

The gate swung open — and before she could speak, acolytes surged toward her shouting:

"The Princess has been found!"

"The moonstone choker from Roselyn's coat has been poisoned — she's barely holding on!"

"Every healer is inside! Bring the Princess at once!"

"That wasn't me — please, help Ivy first—" Her voice came out like shredded silk. She was barely conscious herself, one arm pointing toward Ivy's crumpled form on the ground behind her.

But no one heard her. They all stared at her like she was a monster who had just crawled up from the earth.

More acolytes pushed forward:

"Roselyn's been poisoned — the healers say only the blood drawn from above the heart of the one who poisoned her can serve as the antidote!"

Seraphina was dragged into a room and shoved to the floor. Caden stood beside the bed, holding Roselyn's limp body in his arms.

He didn't even look at her. Just spoke in a voice scraped clean of everything: "Take the blood. Save her."

"That's not—"

Seraphina couldn't finish the sentence.

The knife came down before she could say another word.

"Ahh—!" A short, broken cry tore from her as the blade plunged into her chest. Blood welled and dripped, one drop at a time, into the bowl below.

Her awareness narrowed to a tunnel. She held on as long as she could — and then a gush of blood rose in her throat and spilled from her lips.

She fell.

In the darkness, she thought she heard someone calling her name.

But she couldn't hear it anymore.

She hadn't saved Ivy yet.

She was so sorry. She was so sorry...