The freezing cold air brushed harshly against her legs. She cocooned herself in Kyle’s arms as the gates creaked open. It was a bright, crisp morning, but exhaustion hung heavily over everyone—especially Ashlee.

Esyn waited at the entrance, her eyes fixed on Ashlee. She rushed forward, concerned about how injured Ashlee might be. But to her surprise, Ashlee appeared unharmed, her skin glowing with health.

“You all must be exhausted. I’ve prepared warm herbal drinks for everyone,” Esyn said, her tone brisk yet kind. “Make sure you drink it before resting.” She stepped aside, allowing Kyle and Ashlee to pass.

“Thank you, Esyn. But really, you don’t need to worry so much. We’re fine. You should get some rest too,” Kyle said, his smile warm and sincere.

Esyn froze. Kyle? Smiling warmly? Expressing concern?

“Wh…What’s wrong with him?” she whispered to Derion, her voice dripping with disbelief.

Derion chuckled, stepping closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. “He’s fine. Just accept that he’s not going to be a jerk anymore.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

Everyone shuffled past them, heading inside to take the herbal drinks Esyn had prepared. One by one, they left the room to rest.

Kyle carried Ashlee to their room and gently set her down. He tucked her snugly under the warm sheets.

“You sure are a lot of work,” Kyle muttered, exhaling softly.

“So?” Ashlee looked up at him, searching for a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“So nothing. I love doing a lot of work.” He chuckled at her reaction, leaning in to kiss her cheek. His hands gently caressed hers, trying to warm them.

“Your feet are covered in blood. You ran barefoot the whole time,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Ashlee whispered, shrinking into the mattress.

“I’ll run a warm bath for you. Rest for now,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against her jawline with tenderness. She nodded, her eyes already closing.

The soothing sound of running water filled the room as Kyle prepared the bath. Even in her light sleep, the sound comforted her. But something about the air shifted—it felt heavy, tense, and suffocating.

A sharp unease gripped her chest, growing stronger by the second. She stirred, her breathing shallow and labored. Her eyes flew open suddenly.

Her heart raced as she looked around. The room was pitch black.

“It’s night again? Did I oversleep? Why didn’t Kyle wake me up?” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Swinging her legs over the bed, she placed her feet on the floor. The ground felt slick and cold, like she was stepping on jelly.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“What the…” she muttered, her frustration building. She couldn’t find the light switch in the darkness.

“Kyle!” she called out, her voice echoing in the stillness. No response. “Kyle!” she shouted again, but the silence persisted.

“Where is he?” she murmured, her unease intensifying.

The metallic clatter of something rattling pierced the silence. Her heart almost stopped. She turned towards the sound, sweat dripping down her face.

“Wh…Who’s there?” she stammered, her body trembling. “Kyle? Esyn?”

She took cautious steps toward the noise, the slippery substance beneath her feet making her stomach churn.

“Why does this feel so terrifying? Just say something already!” she yelled, her voice laced with fear.

The rattling abruptly stopped. An evil, guttural laugh filled the air—a laugh so deep and inhuman that it sent shivers down her spine.

Her bravery shattered as terror took over. Frozen in place, she waited for whatever it was to reveal itself.

Then she saw it.

A creature emerged from the darkness. Its skin was black as night, and blood dripped from its grotesque mouth. Sharp, jagged fangs gleamed in the dim light as it smiled, its pure black eyes devoid of any soul.

Its large, hulking body moved toward her. Its hands, if they could be called that, had only three fingers, each tipped with razor-sharp claws.

In its monstrous grip, it held what appeared to be human flesh. The stench was overpowering, making Ashlee gag.

“Finally, we meet,” it growled, its voice deep and gravelly, followed by a sickening laugh.

The creature raised its free hand, its claws aimed directly at her.

“No!” she screamed, sitting up abruptly, her chest heaving. She frantically looked around. Morning light streamed through the windows. She was still in bed.

The sound of running water reached her ears. Kyle burst out of the bathroom, his face etched with concern.

“Ashlee, what happened?” he asked, grabbing her hands and massaging them gently.

“I… I saw it. It was here. It… it was eating humans,” she stammered, her words tumbling out incoherently.

“What? Ashlee, slow down. What are you trying to say? Who eats human flesh? Who was here?” Kyle pressed, his worry deepening.

“I don’t know. It was real—I swear! I called for you, but you didn’t come,” she said, her breathing ragged.

Kyle sighed, pulling her into his arms. “It was just a dream, Ashlee. I’m here. Calm down,” he whispered, stroking her back.

“A dream?” she murmured, her face buried in his shoulder.

“Yes,” he said softly, though worry lingered in his eyes. Everything she’d been through—becoming a werewolf, killing Hagatha, and the chaos that followed—had taken its toll.

Meanwhile, Daria opened her eyes, exhaling sharply.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked, watching her Alpha’s furrowed brow.

“They’re coming for her,” Daria muttered.

“What? Then we need to reach her first! How did they even find her before we could?” Charlotte said, panic rising in her voice.

“She used her powers to kill Hagatha. Those powers drew attention—they’ve marked her. They know she’s unprotected. They’ll strike soon,” Daria said grimly, standing and pulling open a drawer. Inside was a small, ornate box.

“What is that, Alpha Daria?” Charlotte asked, eyeing the box curiously.

“Something that might buy her some time,” Daria replied, sprinkling ash from the box onto the ground. Charlotte watched as the ash vanished into the floor.

“Aren’t those the ashes of…” Charlotte began, only for Daria to cut her off.

“Yes, they are. And she’s their rightful owner. We can’t deny her,” Daria said, a small, tense smile on her lips.

Rumors of Hagatha’s death had spread like wildfire across the underworld. For some, it was a cause for celebration. For others, it brought only grief—or relief laced with dread.

In the Azure Coven, witches gathered around Hagatha’s burial ground, chanting solemn prayers in Latin. When the ceremony ended, they bowed their heads in reverence.

“Finally, it’s over. We can rest,” one witch sighed, walking beside the Devil Mother.

But the Devil Mother stopped abruptly, and so did everyone else.

“This isn’t the time for rest,” she said, her voice chilling. “A greater evil is coming. If they don’t act quickly, we’ll all be in danger.”

“What do you mean, Mother?” the witch asked, her brows furrowing in confusion.

The Devil Mother closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. “Evil is stirring. They’d better protect her—or none of us will survive.”