Abamsky

He’s the cursed King of the Night.
She’s the last omega prophesied to break him.

Selene has been hiding her scent, her power, and her past. But the moment Valerian—the cold, dangerously seductive Night King—catches her scent, the hunt begins.

He claims her with one bite.
She burns him with one touch.

Bound by fate. Torn by secrets. Their desire is forbidden… but irresistible. And in the dark palace of the damned, passion could save them—or unleash hell itself.

Fated to Night king

Chapter 35: A Throne of Shadows and Starlight

The ruins of the moonlit cliff were silent now. Only the wind moved, raking through the scorched stones and shattered blades. Selene's mark had dimmed again, but the warmth of the bond still pulsed between her and Valerian like a second heartbeat, steady and alive.

They didn't speak for a long time. There were no words large enough to hold what had just happened.

Valerian was the first to stir, brushing a strand of damp hair from Selene's brow. "You realize what you did, don't you?"

Selene sat up slowly, wincing as the magic still bled from her veins in soft echoes. "No. I declared truth."

He looked at her with that dark, unreadable expression that always made her feel like he saw everything—not just her face, but her thoughts. Her soul.

"You unbound something ancient," he said. "The Bell of Bonds… only those chosen by the origin flame could ring it. It was meant for the ruler who would bring balance between the cursed and the divine."

"No," he said softly. "It chose us."

The wind hissed through the broken trees behind them. Something shifted. Selene turned and saw shapes moving—dozens, maybe hundreds. Vampires. Some bloodborn, others feral. Their eyes were wide, but none of them attacked. They were bowing.

Valerian helped her up, but didn't let go of her hand. "They saw what you did. They felt it."

"But I'm not a queen," she whispered.

A figure stepped forward from the crowd—tall, robed in violet and bone, with eyes like molten bronze. An elder. One of the Council's exiled seers.

"I watched the stars bleed last night," he said. "They wept for the old throne. But now… the blood stops. The tide rises."

The seer knelt. "The Night King rises anew. And the Flamebearer walks beside him."

Valerian's jaw tensed. "That name…"

"Your bond was written in the constellations long before either of you were born. The cursed omega. The broken heir. The ash and the starlight. Together, you are not doom. You are change."

Selene gripped Valerian's hand tighter. "We don't want their throne."

"You'll take it anyway," the seer said, rising. "Because it's the only way to stop what's coming."

Selene felt it first—like a ripple in her blood. A tear in the world.

Valerian's head snapped up. "Aether storm."

The seer paled. "No… something worse."

Split open in the sky like a wound, raining silver fire and shadows that screamed as they hit the earth. The Council had made its move.

"They're coming for you," the seer said. "The Night Palace is no longer safe. You must gather the lost."

Selene turned to Valerian. "What does that mean?"

"It means," he said, voice hardening, "we stop running."

He swept his arm out and a torrent of shadows wrapped around them, forming the bones of a new army—not one of darkness, but of the in-between. Of rogues and rejects. Of those who once bowed to the curse and those who now bowed only to hope.

"You will not face this alone," Valerian promised. "Not anymore."

Selene nodded. "Then let's bring the dawn."

As the night sky bled fire, they turned toward the chaos—two fated souls, bound not by weakness, but by the power of what they'd survived.

And beside him, the omega who carried flame in her bones.