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 42: The Woman in Raven Feathers

(Continuing from Chapter 41 — Selene and Valerian have sealed the Beast, but peace never comes without a price. A new threat stirs, older than prophecy itself.)

The stars were still bleeding when Selene awoke.

The ground beneath her was no longer the cracked temple stone, but soft earth blanketed with silver moss. Trees surrounded them—tall, white-barked, their leaves humming with gentle magic. She blinked, dazed, her body sore but whole.

Valerian sat nearby, barefoot, shirtless, staring into a pool of water that reflected no sky.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice raw.

"The Realm Between," he said without turning. "Where the gods come to forget."

She stood and walked to him, heart pounding at the serenity that buzzed with quiet danger. "We're not dead?"

"No," he said. "We're remembering."

He finally turned to her, and she felt it again—that powerful thrum of divinity beneath his skin. Not vampire. Not human. Not even omega or alpha.

"I was made by the gods to guard the boundary between fate and chaos," he said slowly. "But they lied. They always do."

"Because they fear what happens when the lock and key find each other." His eyes darkened. "When the omega binds the king."

The bond between them hadn't faded. If anything, it was stronger now. Thicker than blood. Deeper than fate.

But her vision was clouded. There was more.

"Someone else was watching," she said softly. "That woman. The one in the raven cloak."

The name was like poison on her tongue.

"The goddess of the forgotten," he said, voice low. "The one cast out for defying the great weave. She was the first to taste the forbidden bond between shadow and moonlight."

"She wants what we denied the Beast—rebirth."

Morgala stood in the tower of black ice, looking through her obsidian mirror. Her raven perched on her shoulder, whispering secrets.

"They've sealed the gate," she mused, "but they've opened another."

The boy beside her—the Shadowborn—watched with curious detachment.

He looked like Valerian once did, but younger, with eyes that never blinked.

"They think the war ended. But darling… that was only the first act."

She waved her hand over the mirror.

And Valerian—falling into shadow once more.

Morgala grinned. "It's time they remembered… what real prophecy looks like."

Valerian grabbed her wrist. "We need to leave. Now."

"Because the seal we created didn't destroy the Beast. It trapped it. And Morgala…" He clenched his jaw. "She's trying to break it from the outside."

The air tore open with a scream of ravens.

Morgala's voice echoed in their bones.

The forest around them began to wither.

Valerian pulled Selene into his arms.

Elsewhere, in the ruins of the Night Court…

Cassian traced the broken sigils with his hand. "She's still alive," he whispered. "I feel her."

Behind him, the old priestess stirred from her silence.

"She may be alive," the woman rasped, "but she is no longer merely Selene."

Cassian frowned. "What do you mean?"

"She carries something now," the priestess said. "A power unborn. A curse reborn."

The wind howled through the ruins.

And far away, in a realm of forgotten prophecy and shadowed fate…