Chapter 63: Chapter 64: Are you threatening me?

The dream came again, as it always did before the full moon.

Ashriel woke with a sharp, involuntary inhale, his silver eyes snapping open into the heavy, velvet darkness of his shared dormitory. For several long, suspended seconds, he remained utterly motionless beneath the cool black sheets, chest rising and falling in measured rhythm while the remnants of the nightmare clung to him like blood-soaked shadows seeping into his very skin. The visions refused to dissipate easily, lingering at the edges of his consciousness with cruel persistence.

Silence swallowed the room whole, but silence had never meant peace. Not when the full moon loomed so close. Not when tomorrow night threatened to unravel everything once more.

A cold, whispering breeze drifted through the slightly opened balcony doors, carrying with it the rich, earthy scent of pine resin, damp moss, and the distant promise of rain. Moonlight spilled across the ancient stone floor in pale, ethereal silver streaks, illuminating the sharp, chiseled tension etched across Ashriel’s handsome face. His jaw was clenched, a muscle feathering there as the dream replayed behind his closed eyelids in merciless, vivid detail.

Asher standing beneath the swollen full moon.

Blood staining his hands like crimson gloves.

Those eyes, once familiar, glowing with an unnatural, feral red light.

And then the blade. Cold steel sinking straight through Ashriel’s chest with brutal finality.

Again.

Always the same dream.

Always right before the full moon.

Ashriel dragged a slow, weary hand down his face, fingers lingering over his eyes for a moment before he pushed himself upright at the edge of the the single bed. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, tousled from restless sleep. He already knew the truth: sleep would not return tonight. It never did after these dreams invaded.

Tomorrow night.

The thought settled like lead in his chest, heavy and suffocating.

Full moons were never simple for the Tavien family. They were especially cruel to Asher. A flicker of something raw and unreadable crossed Ashriel’s usually impassive expression before vanishing just as quickly. Worry did not suit him. Fear was beneath him. Yet both emotions lingered stubbornly beneath his skin anyway, unwelcome, persistent, and growing heavier with every passing year.

Because Asher’s sickness always worsened beneath the full moon’s merciless gaze. Always. Ashriel had spent decades watching it unfold, each cycle chipping away at what remained of his brother’s control. And somehow, each time felt worse than the last, like a noose slowly tightening around their shared legacy.

Without wasting another moment on useless sentiment, Ashriel rose from the bed with fluid grace and slipped silently from his dorm. The academy corridors lay quiet and deserted at this late hour, most Purgers lost in exhausted slumber after the horrors of Morvalis and the disciplinary punishments that had followed. Dim lanterns flickered along the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows as Ashriel moved through the sleeping academy like a ghost haunting familiar, ancient ruins. His boots made almost no sound against the polished floors.

Eventually, the suffocating weight of Altheris’s stone walls gave way to the open embrace of the cool night forest beyond the academy grounds. The deeper he ventured beneath the ancient canopy, the quieter the world became until only the soft sigh of wind through leaves and the occasional rustle of nocturnal creatures remained.

Still, the unease churning inside him refused to fade.

"Zion," Ashriel called inwardly to his wolf, reaching through the ancient bond that connected them.

Silence answered at first.

Then came the familiar, lazily arrogant voice inside his head.

Do we have a problem, princeling?

Ashriel’s jaw tightened faintly. "You were supposed to be part of me. You should already know when something troubles me."

A dramatic, theatrical sigh echoed through their mental link.

Oh? A part of you? How interesting, considering you haven’t allowed me out to truly play for decades now.

Ashriel remained pointedly silent.

Because unfortunately... Zion wasn’t wrong.

The wolf continued anyway, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to complain.

Do you know how insulting it is to be suppressed for so long? I’m starting to think you genuinely hate me.

"You talk too much," Ashriel replied internally, voice flat.

*And you brood too much. We balance each other perfectly.*

Ashriel exhaled slowly through his nose, already regretting opening the connection.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. Then Zion’s tone softened, just slightly.

Everything will be okay....

Ashriel lifted his gaze toward the pale, swollen moon hanging ominously above the treetops like a watchful, malevolent eye.

Would it?

The last full moon had nearly destroyed everything they had built. And tomorrow... tomorrow already felt wrong. Twisted. Heavy with impending catastrophe.

But before he could sink deeper into the darkness of his thoughts, Zion spoke again, sudden mischief curling through the bond like smoke.

Still... perhaps things will improve once we finally find our mate.

Ashriel’s expression darkened instantly, his eyes flashing with cold warning.

"Enough," he commanded. "Go back to sleep."

Rude, Zion huffed.

Then blessed silence returned.

Ashriel continued walking, the forest swallowing him whole. He had wandered farther than intended, the academy lights were now little more than faint, distant pinpricks through the dense trees, when voices reached his sharpened ears.

A woman’s voice. Sharp. Breathless. Desperate.

Another voice followed.

Ashriel’s steps slowed immediately. His expression hardened into something glacial and dangerous.

And then he saw them.

The Sentinels surrounding Nyx like predators closing in. Irene standing nearby, completely unclothed, her skin still flushed from recent exertion, moonlight caressing her bare form without shame.

Ashriel needed only one glance to understand precisely what had been happening moments before his arrival. Irene was no werewolf. There was no logical reason for her to be stripped bare in the middle of the forest unless.

Well. The answer was obvious.

Ashriel had lived far too many centuries to misunderstand such scenes. More importantly, Nyx looked barely conscious, dangling in Irene’s grip. Angry red marks bloomed across the delicate skin of her throat where the vampire had clearly squeezed too hard. One Sentinel still hovered close, poised to strike.

"Let her go" he said which Irene did immediately

"Ashriel," Irene said smoothly, not sounding the least bit embarrassed despite her nudity. If anything, her eyes carried a disturbingly open invitation as they raked over him. "What brings you out here so late?"

Ashriel’s cold gaze swept over her once, dismissive, almost bored, before looking pointedly away.

"When you’re finished," he said calmly, voice laced with ice, "try finding something to cover yourself with. Decency might suit you better."

One of the Sentinels stiffened at the blatant disrespect. Irene merely smiled, faint and knowing.

Ashriel ignored them all and strode straight toward Nyx instead. She looked dazed, eyes glassy, breathing shallow and uneven, though she remained conscious. Barely.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his tone deceptively simple.

Nyx managed a quick, jerky nod despite clearly being anything but alright.

Ashriel stared at her for one heartbeat longer, then bent down and lifted her effortlessly over his broad shoulder as if she weighed nothing. He completely ignored her weak, offended protest.

"I will take her," he declared flatly, turning away.

"You can’t just take her," Irene replied immediately, her voice losing its earlier honeyed softness and gaining a dangerous edge.

Ashriel finally looked at her properly then. Cold silver eyes met hers without a trace of warmth or hesitation.

"You know what I am capable of," he said quietly, the words carrying the weight of centuries. "And you would not enjoy forcing me to demonstrate it."

Heavy silence descended instantly. Even the Sentinels tensed, their postures shifting with unmistakable wariness. Because unlike the Purgers, the Sentinels understood exactly what Ashriel Tavien truly was.

Irene’s expression shifted. Not fear, never something as simple as fear, but clear, calculated caution.

"Why are you protecting her?" she asked after a tense pause.

Ashriel didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered briefly to the girl hanging limply over his shoulder. Nyx Vaeloria. Trouble followed her like a devoted shadow, and yet she kept surviving against impossible odds.

"Because she protected me once," he answered finally, voice low. "I am simply repaying a debt."

Nothing more.

At least, that was what he told himself. He had no interest in entangling himself in the chaotic life of a reckless Purger... especially one who seemed magnetically drawn to danger every few hours like Nyx.

Nyx had given him her blade during that brutal fight against the Ravager. This was repayment. Even if he had once told her they owed each other nothing, he knew he still needed to thank her properly.

This was it.

Nothing else.

Ashriel turned to leave, Nyx’s weight a negligible burden.

But Irene’s voice stopped him cold.

"I’ll let you take her," she said slowly, deliberately. "But you’ll have to do something for me first."

Ashriel didn’t even pause his stride.

"I do not answer to you."

"It’s the full moon tomorrow," Irene continued, her tone calm and cutting. "Who knows what might happen if I decide not to help you this time?"

Ashriel stopped walking.

The forest itself seemed to grow colder, the air thickening with sudden tension.

Slowly, he turned his head just enough to glance back at her. His silver eyes glowed faintly beneath the moonlight, power flickering dangerously at the edges of his control.

"Are you threatening me?" he asked, his voice deceptively soft.

Irene smiled, sharp and unafraid.

"What do you think?"