The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

Dark Fae Realm:

Aire did not sleep.

She had closed her eyes countless times throughout the night, yet every single time she drifted toward sleep, she found herself staring into her own face.

Lysander.

Wearing her own face, and smiling with her lips. Blinking with her eyes, and speaking with her voice.

The memory refused to leave.

She lay upon the enormous bed inside Lysander’s chamber, staring silently at the dark ceiling as another sleepless night surrendered itself to morning.

Or what passed for morning in the Dark Fae Realm. There was no sunrise here.

The sky merely changed from endless black to a slightly lighter shade of hopelessness before darkness settled again.

She had stopped measuring days by light.

She measured them by survival. Twenty-four. She whispered the number beneath her breath.

Twelve days.

Vaelor had stolen another day from her.

Twelve more remained before whatever terrifying purpose he had planned finally arrived.

Her chest tightened.

She rolled onto her side.

Everything hurts.

Her shoulders still ached from yesterday’s training, and her ribs protested every breath.

Her wrists carried faint bruises where Lysander had restrained her inside the council chamber while he bullied her into acting the way she does.

She stared at them for several long moments.

His fingers had disappeared, but the feeling hadn’t. She shut her eyes tightly.

Her throat burned.

She pushed herself upright.

The chamber was silent.

Since that day inside the council chamber, even the servants had changed around her. No one lingered around.

Her meals, clothes, and bath water still appeared. Then everyone vanished again.

It was almost as though the entire palace had collectively decided she was no longer worth speaking to.

They all channeled their energy to Lysander, teaching him all they knew about her these past few weeks.

He barely even needs their help, having been with her for a longer period.

However, the vines now remained outside her doors, ready to punish her as they took over the work of the guards.

She swung both legs over the edge of the bed. The cold stone beneath her feet reminded her exactly where she was.

She wasn’t even close to home yet. She crossed slowly toward the balcony, and a cold wind greeted her immediately.

The endless black towers stretched beyond the palace like enormous teeth rising from the earth.

Far below, Dark Fae soldiers trained beneath crimson banners.

She rested both palms upon the railing, and perceived the air smelled of rain. Rain that never fell.

She closed her eyes.

At that moment, it happened. She felt three heartbeats at once. Steady and powerful. It felt compelling, as if drawing at her.

Her entire body froze.

Three separate rhythms echoed somewhere beneath her own heartbeat, inside it. Comforting warmth spread gently through her chest.

It felt as if someone was placing a blanket around her frozen shoulders. The feeling has repeated itself for weeks now, especially at moments when she felt exhausted.

Aire’s breathing caught. She tried to ignore it for the seventh time now, but it tugged at her again.

Her breathing fastened. Her lips slowly parted. "Nate?" She whispered.

Silence greeted her.

The heartbeat continued to circle inside her heart. "Xander?" The warmth flickered, as if responding. "Alaric?"

For one impossible heartbeat, she wasn’t standing on the balcony anymore. Rather, she was running.

Grass brushed against powerful legs that were not hers, and cold air rushed through thick fur.

The vision vanished so violently she stumbled backwards. She caught herself against the stone railing before falling.

The warmth disappeared, and she unconsciously bit her lips anxious. Only cold remained now.

Her breathing turned uneven.

"No..." She pressed one trembling hand against her chest. "Come back..." She begged, her voice frozen.

Nothing answered.

"Come back..." She begged desperately, pressing a palm to her chest, as if to resuscitate herself. Her eyes tightened further, as she clenched her lips.

Very softly, so softly she almost believed she’d imagined it, a fleeting voice responded to her. "Don’t be afraid."

Aire’s eyes snapped open.

She spun around with her now shaking lips, and the balcony stood empty. The chamber behind her remained exactly as she’d left it.

No one was in it. Her pulse thundered.

"Again." She whispered, refusing to let the voice and warmth go.

Silence.

She swallowed. "Who’s talking to me?" She asked softly.

There was not even a flicker of emotions again. Her eyes handed with certainty. She refused to believe what she felt and suspected wasn’t real.

She knew... with a certainty she could not explain that she had not imagined the voice. Someone had finally answered her. She took a deep breath.

The silence lingered long after the voice disappeared.

Aire remained exactly where she stood, her hand still pressed against her chest as though she could force the warmth to return by holding herself together.

The three heartbeats had vanished, and the strange comfort had gone with them. Only the wind remained.

She exhaled shakily, abd caught her breath. "I’m losing my mind."

The words sounded hollow.

She wanted to believe them. Because the alternative frightened her far more. If she wasn’t imagining the voice, then someone had found a way to reach her.

Someone beyond these walls, and beyond this realm.

Her pulse quickened.

She pushed herself away from the balcony.

Almost instinctively, her eyes travelled toward the towering bookshelves lining Lysander’s chamber.

She had spent weeks reading them. Weeks searching for anything that could explain portals.

Anything that could explain realms, and anything that could explain escape. She had found almost nothing.

The voice had come immediately after she felt the strange bond.

The timing couldn’t be coincidence.

Could it?

Her feet carried her toward the shelves before she had fully decided to move.

She reached the first row. Her fingers skimmed across cracked leather bindings. She had lmost read everything on this shelf.

She moved faster. The books slid past beneath her trembling fingertips.

She moved to another shelf. Her breathing became quicker. "There has to be something." She gasped.

Her fingers caught another spine. She pushed a couple book aside and right behind two, her hand caught a book about portal Theory.

Her heart leapt. She yanked it free. Her eyes immediately raced across the pages. Disappointingly, there was still nothing. Only failed experiments involving temporary dimensional tears.

Nothing stable that could help her.

She shoved it back so carelessly that two more books tumbled sideways. One struck the floor with a dull thud.

She barely noticed.

She was already searching another shelf. Every answer seemed to stop just short of becoming useful. For weeks now, every book has felt as though someone had deliberately removed the final pieces.

Frustration clawed its way through her chest.

She accidentally knocks over several books,

and one shelf shifts slightly. Behind it is a compartment.

An ancient book has clearly been hidden rather than shelved.

She pulled another the book free. This one looked older. Far older. Its black leather had faded almost grey.

There was no title, only a dark purple symbol burned into its cover. The circle symbol was split by three intersecting lines.

The instant her fingers touched it, the warmth returned. It was not as strongly as before, but it felt enough.

Slowly and carefully, she opened it. The pages weren’t written in Dark Fae script, nor Wolf or Witch.

The symbols shifted as she stared at it. It moved, and changed.

Almost as if it was learning her. Her hearth skipped a death, as she focused on the book, fearing it might send 2ords to Vaelor, just as the vines does.

Then, one sentence appeared. It wasn’t written. It simply formed.

"Every prison possesses a door."

The letters dissolved almost immediately, and more words replaced them.

"Not every door is made of stone."

Her hands tightened around the book. Her pulse thundered. She quickly turned another page.

The remaining pages were blank.

A whisper drifted through her mind again.

"Keep looking." The voice said, all ge tlr and patient. Aire spun another page, and the symbols returned.

This time, they resembled circles. The slowly cleared, and showed that they were portals.

Her eyes widened.

She leaned closer, and the diagrams shifted before her eyes. Silver threads connected one realm to another.

Some happened with lines, bridge, and anchors. While others happened with hair, blood, and true names.

Aire’s breathing grew uneven.

Her fingers traced one illustration. The silver ink shimmered beneath her touch.

Her heartbeat stumbled.

Another page turned itself. She hadn’t touched it.

A drawing emerged, and a woman stood between two worlds. She had one hand stretched toward darkness, and the other toward light.

The page glowed.

Aire’s entire body stiffened.

Another whisper resounded in her ears. This one came out stronger, and more urgent.

"Listen to me."

She swallowed. Against every instinct, she answered. "Who are you?"

Her fingers trembled violently. "What do you want?" She asked again. What was worse was how she couldn’t know the genter of who was speaking.

The voice appeared to be genderless.

"To make sure..." The voice weakened. "...you don’t remain trapped here.

Aire stared at the page.

She flipped another page and to her disappointment, there was nothing.

Then suddenly, symbols flooded the paper. Dozens and hundreds of them. Her eyes raced desperately across them.

She couldn’t understand a single one. She squeezed the book tighter. "No, no... please... please speak."

She needed more.

Anything. Anything at all. Her breathing became frantic as she searched the remaining pages.

There qas nothing. Aire fell to the floor desperately, and began turning through the pages hurriedly, as she fought with the tears behind her eyes.

A shadow fell across the floor.

Aire didn’t notice. She was already turning another page while behind her, the chamber door opened without a sound.

Soft footsteps crossed the room..

Only when another page slipped from her fingers did Aire finally feel it. She felt a presence behind her, and when she looked up, her blood froze.

Morrigan stood only a few feet away.

Her purple eyes weren’t looking at Aire. They were fixed on the ancient book in her hands. For one impossible heartbeat, neither woman moved.

Then the book slipped from Aire’s trembling fingers. It struck the marble floor with a deafening crack.

Morrigan smiled. Her voice was soft when her lips finally parted. "Say your last rites, Aire." She took one slow step forward, and grabbed Aire by her hair.

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