chapter 41: The Shifting Fate

Nyx ran.

Through the dense forest, through the twisting paths that had long become familiar, through the weight of something he couldn’t understand.

His paws hit the earth harder than usual, his body tense, his thoughts tangled in emotions he had never felt before.

He was not supposed to feel.

Not like this.

Not toward her.

Eira had always been his charge, his duty, his purpose. The bond they shared was ancient, inexplicable—but it had never been meant to be more than protection.

So why did he feel this storm raging inside him now?

Why had he growled at Kael?

Not just a warning.

Not just territorial instinct.

Something deeper.

Something dangerous.

Nyx forced himself to stop, his claws digging into the earth as he caught his breath, his chest tightening.

Had he… been jealous?

No. No, that wasn’t possible.

And yet—Kael had touched her, kissed her, and something within Nyx had snarled, rejecting the sight, the idea, the very possibility of losing her in a way he had never considered before.

What was wrong with him?

He was a guardian. A protector. A force born alongside her, meant to guide her, shield her—not want her.

The very thought made his muscles tense, as if the truth alone could strike him down.

He thought of Eira’s eyes, the way she had looked at Kael—the way she had never looked at him.

He let out a rough exhale, shaking the thoughts away.

Whatever this was, it was dangerous.

She had already lost too much, carried too much weight.

Nyx’s breath was still uneven, his mind tangled in the remnants of the vision.

Eira. As a wolf. Running beside him. Laughing.

It had felt so real, so familiar—a life just out of reach, a memory buried in time.

But what did it mean?

Before he could dwell on it further, a sharp pull tore through his consciousness.

A summon.

Eira was calling for him.

Nyx’s body reacted before his mind could catch up, his paws kicking up the earth as he raced toward her, his heart hammering in his chest.

She needed him.

Nyx arrived at the villa, his breath steady despite the strange tension curling in his chest. He spotted Kael, standing in the shadows, his expression unreadable.

An unfamiliar tug pulled at Nyx’s heart—jealousy, though he refused to acknowledge it.

Kael approached him, his sharp gaze lingering, thoughts running wild behind his eyes.

Something about Nyx unsettled him.

Was their bond—Nyx and Eira’s—something more than just guardian and charge?

Kael sighed, brushing away the thoughts, and extended his hand, holding out a single flower.

Nyx sniffed the petals, committing the scent to memory.

Kael’s voice was steady but distant. “Take her to where these flowers bloom. There, you will find Jewara. She is expected. Introduce her as the Frostborn, and the village will take over from there.”

Nyx nodded, locking the scent deep within his mind.

Without another word, he turned away and padded into the villa.

Inside, Eira sat on the bed, looking cold, fragile—delicate in a way that had nothing to do with physical weakness, but everything to do with pain.

She was not broken.

But she was hurting.

Nyx nudged her leg gently, a silent message. It’s time.

Eira exhaled deeply, her fingers finding his fur. She stroked his head slowly—hesitant, lingering—something inside her stirring at the touch.

Then, suddenly, she paused, as if startled by the feeling.

A moment passed.

She withdrew her hand, unsure.

Without speaking, she rose, walking with Nyx outside.

The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of distant embers.

Kael stood nearby, watching.

Eira glanced at him from the corner of her eye—a fleeting glance, barely a movement, but enough for him to see the sadness lingering in her expression.

She climbed onto Nyx’s back, settling into place, her hand resting on his fur.

A whisper, barely audible—“I’m ready.”

Nyx gave a small nod, acknowledging her words.

Then—he ran.

Leaving the villa. Leaving Kael.

Leaving everything behind.

--

Nyx slowed his pace, his paws pressing against the soft earth as he and Eira finally arrived at Jewara.

The village was alive with movement, figures dressed in deep crimson robes stepping between stone pathways and bustling market spaces. Smoke curled from chimneys, the scent of burning embers and roasted spices filling the air.

Yet there was tension, a charged energy as though they had been expecting her—but not like this.

Before Eira could take another step, Lady Elara emerged, her expression tight, irritation flickering behind her calculating gaze.

She stopped before Eira, eyes narrowed.

“And you are?”

Her tone was sharp, exhausted by the sight of yet another outsider.

Eira opened her mouth, prepared to answer, but before she could speak—

A figure stepped forward.

The royal advisor.

His presence was commanding, his robes lined with golden embroidery, his gaze sharp and knowing.

“Are you the twin the legends speak of?”

Eira hesitated, her heart pounding at his words.

Twin?

Slowly, she nodded, unsure.

The advisor smiled, pleased. “Move aside, Lady Elara. This is the Fireborn. Our future queen. Prince Liam’s future bride.”

Elara’s breath hitched, her eyes widening as fury flashed across her face.

Eira stiffened, confusion warping through her thoughts.

Fireborn?

That was wrong. She was Frostborn, wasn’t she?

She didn’t speak.

Instead, she followed the advisor, her thoughts spinning as he led her toward her quarters.

The excitement in his voice was palpable. “This will be your room from now on, Fireborn. I will inform the king, queen, and Prince Liam of your arrival. Your future majesty.”

Eira barely registered his words.

She didn’t correct him.

She couldn’t.

Liam was nearby.

Standing just out of sight, his posture rigid, his fists clenched at his sides.

He had overheard everything.

Fireborn. Future queen. His intended bride.

His chest tightened, his pulse quickened—but he didn’t linger.

He turned away, disappearing into his chambers without a word.

Meanwhile, Eira studied her new surroundings, her fingers grazing the edge of the intricate wooden desk, the deep-red drapery flowing over the window.

It was beautiful, reminiscent of her home in the Ice Kingdom, yet eerily unfamiliar.

Then, she spotted the mirror.

She stepped toward it, breath shallow.

And when she peered inside, her own reflection startled her.

Her eyes—fire-red.

Her hair—reddish blue, no longer its usual silver-white strands.

Her brows furrowed, her chest tightening.

She didn’t recognize herself.

Something was wrong.

Something had changed.