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 52 – The Mark of the Abyss

Selene didn't wake for three days.

The Abyss Crown had sunk its will into her soul, rewriting threads of her destiny that had once lain dormant. All the while, Valerian never left her side—not even once. He sat at the edge of her bed in the obsidian chambers of his private sanctuary beneath the Shadow Keep, his eyes glowing faintly as he watched over her.

There was something regal in the angle of her jaw, something untouchable in the curve of her lips. Her scent—gods, her scent—had transformed. She still carried the warmth of an omega, but now it was layered with danger, a new edge of divinity, of command. And her pulse no longer beat to her own rhythm—it pulsed with the crown.

The thought made Valerian's fists clench.

He had sworn to protect her. Not to fall in love with her.

But gods, he did. Every breath she took tangled with his own. She was no longer just prophecy. She was his—but now, also something the world would fight to claim.

When her eyes finally opened, they weren't the same.

They were deep pools of night, threaded with flickers of gold lightning.

"Valerian," she whispered, hoarse but steady.

He exhaled, leaning in. "You're awake."

"The voice in the chamber—it spoke to me. Said I was the Queen of the Abyss. What does that mean?" she asked, her fingers brushing her temple where the phantom weight of the crown still lingered.

He reached for her hand, holding it firmly. "It means the old world is stirring again. And you, Selene, are the only one who can command it."

"I don't want that," she said, voice trembling. "I never asked to be a queen. Or a key. I just wanted to find out who I was. To be free."

Valerian's thumb traced a circle on the back of her hand. "And you will be. But freedom has a price."

She turned to him, eyes brimming with light. "Then I want to fight. For us. For everything they tried to bury."

His gaze darkened. "Then we fight."

That night, the High Coven met in secret under the veiled stars. News of the crown's awakening had spread faster than wildfire. The Night King's enemies stirred—some to destroy Selene, others to possess her. She wasn't just the rarest omega now.

"She must be contained," hissed Lady Mirell from the Eastern Court. "This girl is prophecy and plague in one breath. You've made a mistake, Valerian."

"She is mine," he growled. "And I will burn every kingdom that threatens her."

"She's the crown now. You can't control her," another vampire murmured, his face pale. "Even you don't understand what she's becoming."

"I don't need to understand it," Valerian said, his voice low, lethal. "I need to protect her."

From the shadows, a new figure stepped forward—cloaked in silver mist, with eyes like bleeding ice.

Valerian stiffened. "You shouldn't be here."

"It's time you met the first Bloodhound," the man said with a cold smile. "The one who cursed the Abyss in the first place."

Selene watched from the threshold, her eyes burning gold.

And for the first time, her voice rang with power.

"Then speak, ghost. Because I'm taking the war to the ones who buried my name. And I don't need anyone's permission anymore."

The flames in the torches burned blue.

The Queen of the Abyss had spoken.

And no one—not even fate—could silence her now.