The Voice of the Successor

"Boost the spell! Now!" I urged Enid, shoving aside the table where the gruesome blood analysis had taken place. The witch and Sophie were scrambling, dragging intricate bronze communication disks and massive, charged crystals toward the center of the room.
"Your Majesty, to break the magical shielding of the First Consort's sanctuary, we'll need a full power surge," Enid warned, her eyes wide with concern. "It will drain you completely, especially in your weakened state—"
"I don't care about my state! Marcus is walking into a trap set by the Successor!"
"But who is the Successor?" Sophie cried, hooking a massive power conduit to the array. "We still don't have a name!"
I knelt by the array, placing both hands flat on the bronze disk. The cold metal grounded me, and the secrets I held—Selene's pain, the broken balance, the life inside me—coalesced into a terrible, burning energy. The answer was horrifyingly simple, a terrible inevitability woven into the fabric of our family's history.
"We were so focused on Marcus’s father," I hissed, leaning over the disk. "The First Consort line isn't about the King. It's about the divine right to stand beside the Goddess. To rule the next generation. The Successor is someone who believes they should have been the first-born to the Goddess's line, someone who feels their strength was overlooked."
I looked up at Sophie, the revelation a shard of ice in my voice. "The dark figure, the one who left the message... was setting the stage for his brother. The one who has always felt less-than, the one whose power was overshadowed by Marcus's dragon heritage, the one who felt he deserved the throne more than any of us."
"It's Atlas," Sophie breathed, her face draining of color. "The infected wolf was the distraction, the one we focused on. But the true mastermind is Atlas, Marcus's half-brother."

The Surge

The realization was a shock wave that hit us all. Atlas, the powerful Alpha, driven mad not by infection alone, but by a consuming, ancient need for divine power and Marcus’s throne. He had staged the distraction with Emrys, using the chaos of the infected as cover, and had seized Adrian—the pure, perfect sacrifice—to fuel his ambition.
"Now we have the name!" I roared, pushing my consciousness into the communication array. "Give me the power, Enid!"
Enid flipped the main switch. The crystals flared violently, and the energy rushed into my hands. It was immense, painful, and terrifyingly familiar. I drew on everything: the raw power of the Princess of the Golden Line, the sheer desperation of a mother, and the quiet, potent strength of the new life inside my womb.
The power surge was so great that it didn't just vibrate the room—it felt like it was tearing me apart at a molecular level. My vision blurred. I was no longer seeing the room; I was seeing a thousand miles of dark earth and granite, rushing toward a sealed, obsidian structure deep underground.
I found Marcus's aura—a blazing star of gold and fury, focused entirely on the ancient structure. He was seconds from breaching the exterior wall.
"MARCUS!" My voice wasn't a sound; it was an energy pulse, a telepathic scream that broke through the earth and the sanctuary's shields.

A Warning, Not a Confession

The backlash was instant. The sanctuary's ancient wards retaliated, a torrent of dark, choking energy surging back through the connection. It felt like being submerged in freezing oil, trying to crush the brilliant warmth I had generated.
I screamed, pulling my hands back just as the crystals around the array shattered. The pain was excruciating, but it wasn't just my own. The retaliatory energy was trying to strike the most vulnerable, most powerful source: the growing life inside me.
I curled over, gasping, instinctively shielding my womb.
No. You will not touch my child.
"Mom!" Sophie was instantly by my side, helping to pull the remaining shrapnel of the array away.
"I reached him," I wheezed, tasting copper. "He heard me. But I didn't have time for the name. I just got a warning through."
Meanwhile, miles below the city, Marcus halted, his hand raised mid-strike against the obsidian. The telepathic scream had hit him like a physical blow, vibrating his very essence. It wasn't just a warning; it was a desperate, urgent signal that went beyond words.
He turned, glancing back at the tunnel he had just passed through, the sheer power of my outreach overriding his focus. He could sense the overwhelming surge of love and fear that had propelled the warning.
Something is terribly wrong inside the palace, too.
The dragon in him warred: go back and protect his Queen, or continue forward and save his son?
He chose the hunt. He drove a single, devastating claw into the obsidian wall, tearing a ragged opening. He didn't know the full name of the enemy, but he knew the location and the ultimate target: his son.
He plunged into the dark opening, leaving a streak of gold light in the crushing darkness.

The Clock is Ticking

I lay on the floor of the research room, exhausted and weak, but the immediate threat to the baby had been averted.
"He's inside," I whispered to Sophie. "He's hunting. We need to find the specific requirements of the Ascent Ritual. We have a name now: Atlas. We know he's trying to summon the Elder God of Succession. Find out what else they need to complete the ritual before the next full moon. It can't just be Adrian's blood."
Sophie nodded, her face grim. "I'll rally the resources. We'll scour every scroll."
As Enid worked to stabilize my vital signs, I closed my eyes, feeling the faint, distant connection to Marcus. He was alive, he was fighting, but he was facing his own brother—a bitter, power-crazed Alpha wolf empowered by an Elder God.
The secrets I still held—the true genesis of the war and the life I was carrying—were both my greatest burden and my most potent weapons. I had to recover quickly. I had to ensure my baby was safe. And then, I had to be strong enough to tell Marcus the entire truth before it tore our family, and the world, apart forever.