The morning carried a heavy silence, broken only by the soft murmur of voices and the distant clang of tools being used to clear away the wreckage. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the scattered remains of what had once been homes. The air still smelled of ash and blood, a scent I knew would haunt me for a long time.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me like a physical force. My body was sore, bruised, but it was my mind that felt the heaviest. In the quiet moments, when I allowed myself to breathe and stop moving, the reality of what had happened settled in.

We lost people. Good people. They were gone now, taken by Kendrick's forces in a battle that was supposed to be ours to win. I wasn't sure what hurt more—the loss of those we'd grown close to, or the fact that the villagers, the people I'd sworn to protect, were starting to look at me differently. They feared me now.

I could see it in their eyes when they passed by, the way they avoided my gaze or flinched when I moved too suddenly. I knew what they were thinking. I could feel it in the air, thick with uncertainty. They were afraid of the darkness that had poured from me during the battle. The magic I couldn't control. The violence that had surged from my body, ripping through Kendrick's soldiers like a tidal wave.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. I hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. But the blood was on my hands now, and I could see the evidence of it in the way they treated me.

The door creaked open, and Mathew stepped into the room. His face was drawn with exhaustion, but his eyes softened when he saw me sitting there. Without a word, he crossed the room, sitting beside me on the bed. His hand found mine, squeezing it gently. He didn't need to say anything. I could feel the weight of his concern in the silence between us.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, filled with an unspoken question.

"I don't know," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. "I'm not sure I'll ever be okay again. Not after what happened."

Mathew didn't pull away or try to reassure me with empty words. He just sat there, holding my hand, offering the quiet comfort that only he knew how to give.

The sounds of the village outside were different today. It was no longer a place filled with laughter and life—it was a place scarred by loss. People moved through the streets, cleaning up debris, repairing broken homes, but the energy felt strained. Fear hung in the air like a thick fog.

The refugees, who had only just begun to settle in Faria, were now faced with a difficult decision: stay and rebuild, or head south to the human settlements where they would be able to start anew. Some had already packed up, their belongings strapped to their backs, ready to leave. They had no more fight left in them. But others had chosen to stay, determined to rebuild what had been lost. They were looking for hope, clinging to it like a lifeline.

I could hear the murmurs outside, voices low but urgent as people weighed their options. Some of the older refugees were insistent on leaving. They didn't have the strength to fight anymore, not after seeing what Kendrick's forces had done. But others, younger and more determined, had decided to stay and help rebuild.

I had been out there earlier, helping where I could. Carrying supplies, offering my assistance to those who needed it. But every time I looked into someone's eyes, I saw that same fear—the fear of the magic inside me.

Penelope and Matilda were among those helping to rebuild, but even they seemed different now. They glanced at me when they thought I wasn't looking, their eyes full of questions. Penelope had always been quiet, but now there was a distance in her silence that hadn't been there before. And Matilda... She had always been so sure of me, so confident in my ability to lead, but now, I could see it in the way she looked at me. There was something unspoken between us, something heavy and filled with doubt.

I had become something they feared.

A knock on the door broke my train of thought, and Mathew gave my hand one last squeeze before getting up to answer it. I didn't need to see who it was. I already knew.

It was Kirigan.

"You received a message," he said, his voice low and grave as he handed me a letter.

The paper was heavy, the seal marking it as official—one I recognized from my home, the royal emblem. I took the letter with a mixture of curiosity and dread, my fingers brushing against the wax seal as I broke it open.

Inside, the message was brief but direct. It was from Kendric Roland.

"He wants to meet us," I whispered, my voice barely audible as I handed the letter over to my husband.

Mathew's brow furrowed as he read through the words, his grip on the paper tightening. His jaw clenched as he folded it back and looked up at me, his eyes hard with a mix of disbelief and anger.

"Meet us?" he echoed, his voice steady but heavy with the weight of what this meant. "After everything that's happened, after the deaths, he thinks we're just going to meet him? Face-to-face? As if we have any reason to trust him?"

I could feel the tension rolling off of him, the same frustration and confusion pulsing in my own chest. Kendric's audacity to demand a meeting, after the chaos he'd caused, made my blood run cold. But I couldn't help but feel a sick, gnawing curiosity at the thought. What did he want? What did he think he could gain by showing his face now?

Mathew passed the letter back to me, his hands brushing mine briefly.

"What do you think?" he asked, his voice softer now, his gaze searching mine.

I could sense the weight of his unspoken question: Are you ready to face him?

I took a slow breath, trying to calm the turmoil swirling inside.

"We have no choice but to listen," I said quietly, though I hated the words the moment they left my lips. "We need to know what he's planning, what he wants. We can't keep running from him."

Kirigan was quiet for a long moment, clearly weighing the situation in his mind. Finally, he cleared his throat, stepping closer and his sharp eyes flicking over to Mathew.

"This is a trap," Kirigan said bluntly, his tone grave. "It's always a trap. Kendric doesn't meet anyone unless there's something he wants, and trust me, it's never good. He's cunning, and his games are dangerous."

Mathew's jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to me before returning to the soldier.

"I know," Mathew replied, his voice measured. "But we can't keep hiding from him, Kirigan. We need to know what he wants. We have to face him."

Kirigan's brow furrowed as he glanced at me, his experienced gaze taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty written on my face. He seemed to hesitate for just a moment, his soldier's instincts at war with his desire to protect.

"Are you sure?" Kirigan asked quietly, his voice low. "You've been through too much already. You can't be blinded by anger or pride. Not when our people need you more than ever."

I could see the conflict in Kirigan's eyes, the tension between what he knew and what he felt was necessary to protect us all. His experience was obvious, and his hesitation spoke volumes about his concern for Mathew's safety—and mine.

Mathew met his gaze without flinching, the weight of his decision pressing down on his shoulders, but his resolve was unwavering.

"We're not going into this blindly," he said firmly, his eyes locked with Kirigan's. "But we need to know where we stand. Whatever happens, we can't afford to let this drag on. We need to know what Kendric is planning before it's too late."

Kirigan paused for a moment, then finally nodded, though the shadow of doubt didn't leave his face.

"Then I'll help prepare for whatever comes next," he said, though the wariness in his tone didn't entirely mask the concern he had for us. "But just know, once you're in the lion's den, there's no turning back."

The room fell silent, the weight of the decision settling in like a heavy fog. I wanted to argue, to say we could still avoid this confrontation, but I knew it wasn't possible anymore.

Kendric Roland was calling us to the table, and there was no escaping the storm he was ready to unleash.

We had asked Kirigan to gather the others. Mere moments later the house quickly filled with hurried footsteps and low murmurs as everyone filed inside. The kitchen, already modest and cozy, now felt almost claustrophobic with the number of people squeezing into the space. Boots clomped against the worn wooden floor, and chairs scraped as they were pulled around the table.

Angela took her usual place near the window, her arms folded tightly as she surveyed everyone who entered, her brow furrowed with worry. Gabby, quiet but keen-eyed, stood beside her, scanning the room with an intensity that left no one unnoticed. Eric was close by the door, his tall frame blocking part of the narrow entrance as he exchanged a few low words with Sam, whose brow was creased with concern. Sam's son, Luke, lingered beside him, his eyes wide, caught between loyalty to his father and the tension that filled the room.

Kirigan entered last, casting a sharp, assessing glance at everyone already gathered. He held a certain authority, his presence commanding, though the haunted look in his eyes gave away the gravity of the situation. Without a word, he moved to stand beside Mathew, his gaze steady as he waited for the meeting to begin.

Mathew stood by the head of the table, his expression composed but with a hint of weariness shadowing his features. He let his hand rest on the back of a chair, fingers drumming in a rhythmic, calming beat. His presence was steady, grounding, though even he couldn't mask the concern in his eyes as he glanced around at the packed room.

As for me, I was near Mathew, my fingers brushing against his in a quiet gesture of solidarity. I could feel the tension rolling off everyone around us. Our home, usually a haven, now felt stifling and tense. The familiar kitchen was transformed by the unease hanging thick in the air. Cups of untouched tea and half-eaten bread still sat on the counters from earlier in the morning, reminders of how quickly things had changed.

The silence settled, thick and pressing, as all eyes turned to Mathew. He took a deep breath, looking out at the tired, anxious faces before him. It was time to face whatever Kendric had in store for us, and the weight of everyone's gaze reminded us both of just how much was riding on the choices we made.

Gabrielle was the first, her voice high with disbelief. "Meet with Kendric? After all he's done?" She paced the length of the room, her fists clenched at her sides. "This is insanity. We're barely standing as it is. He'll tear us apart if we walk into his trap!"

Angela, usually so composed, looked almost pale. "He's a monster, Mathew. You know that better than any of us. Why give him a chance to get his hands on you?"

Eric, shifted uncomfortably. His face was pale, his eyes flicking nervously between Mathew and me. Even he looked shaken, his usual confidence chipped away by the thought of what Kendric might have planned. And it was then that Sam stepped forward, his eyes dark with fear and anger.

"Please Alpha," he said, his voice tight, "don't do this. You're risking everything. We don't need to put ourselves in his path. We should be focusing on the people here—keeping them safe."

Mathew's face remained calm, his expression unyielding. He held up a hand, waiting for everyone to quiet down. But they didn't stop, the panic and disbelief rolling around the room like waves crashing against rock.

Kirigan finally crossed his arms, leaning in as he spoke up again. "They're right, Mathew. I'd follow you into any fight, but walking into Kendric's hands is another matter. He's cunning. Dangerous. You're going to put yourself, and the king"—his gaze landed heavily on me—"in his sights. You don't know what he's planning."

But Mathew remained unshaken, meeting each protest with the same calm intensity that had always set him apart. His hand found mine, gripping it tightly, as if to anchor me to his side. He faced the room, his jaw set, his voice firm.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he said, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, meeting their fearful expressions head-on. "And I know who Kendric is. We all do. And this is unlike him. Adrians powers must have scared him enough to want to discuss peace."

A ripple of silence fell over the group, the strength of his words hitting like a blow. But I could still see the doubt in their eyes, the fear. Sam's gaze remained locked on Mathew, pleading, trying to find something that would make him change his mind.

"What if he captures you again?" Luke asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Or worse?"

"While we are away, you have a chance to gather the strength of the village. Fortify and heal," he said, reminding them that this was their original plan. Mathew and I were going to buy them some time.

The silence that followed was heavy, and though I could still feel their fear, there was a hint of something else—a sliver of trust, hard-won and fragile, but there. They could see the determination in Mathew's eyes, the certainty in his stance. They didn't fully understand it, but it was enough to calm the rising tide of panic.

Mathew looked at me then, his hand never leaving mine, and I saw the flicker of doubt that he kept hidden from the others. But it didn't make me question him—it made me trust him even more.