Page 30 of Betraying the Beast

He straightened, summoning what dignity he had left.

“I release you all from your servitude,” he said, his voice echoing through the tower, low and resonant. “You are free. Be at peace, my friends. You have served me well. I thank you for your honorable service.”

The words caught in his throat, and still he pushed through them.

These spirits had chosen loyalty over rest, had remained to help him when their lord passed the orchard into his hands. Now, there was nothing left to protect. Nothing but a battlefield waiting to bloom with blood.

Elodia’s eyes did not leave his. “What of you, my lord?”

The question hung in the air like frost.

He gave a bitter smile. “I will be along soon enough.”

The madness was coiling tighter now. His thoughts became a thrum of rage. His vision narrowed, darkening at the edges until the world reduced to movement, threat, blood. It took everything in him not to tear apart the stone beneath his claws. Soon, Aldaric would come. And then… he would no longer need to resist.

The curse welcomed him like an old friend. It would have its due.

He could feel it now—hunger blooming in his chest, heat rolling under his skin, muscle and bone shifting beneath the weight of ancient magic. The orchard pulsed in the distance, echoing the throb of his dying humanity. The beast no longer slumbered. It was awake. It was waiting.

His jaw clenched. His chest expanded with a final breath.

He threw back his head and let loose a roar that shook the stones beneath his feet, splitting the silence like a blade through flesh. The sound of it echoed through the castle and into the trees beyond, into the sky, into the roots of the orchard that had claimed him.

The transformation tore through him. Claws extended. Fangs bared. The fire in his blood consumed the last fragments of Auren.

The curse had won.

The end was nigh.

Chapter

Nine

A roar split the silence of the forest.

It tore through the trees like thunder, a sound soaked in pain and fury, and Ceryn froze—one foot lifted, breath locked in her throat. The ground seemed to vibrate with it, the cry of something not merely wounded, but lost. Not Auren.

Not anymore.

Vael’Zhur had risen.

The part of her that still clung to hope crumbled beneath the weight of that sound. The man she loved was gone, drowned beneath the curse and rage, and what remained would kill anything it touched. Even her.

She turned away from the castle.

From him.

She had a plan to finish. An end she’d chosen, whether she was ready or not.

A ripple of frost brushed the air beside her, and then—Elodia appeared, her form coalescing from light and fog like a memory given shape.

“You betrayed him,” the ghost said calmly.

Not accusatory. Just fact.

Ceryn swallowed, voice rasping. “We always knew I would.”

Elodia studied her, head tilted like a curious owl. Then, with a wave of her hand, a dagger materialized in the space between them, hovering midair, gleaming bone handle carved in runes too old for memory.

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