Lycina’s POV

Who would have thought it was just my scent that was stolen into that vial I found in Lydia’s room?

In my first life, I never saw it. I was too broken, too lost in grief and rejection to think clearly. I believed Theron chose Lyria because she was better than me, pretty, stronger, more worthy due to the stolen scent. I never imagined something darker could be at play. Not once.

But in this life, I saw it. Days after Theron’s rejection, my mind kept circling back to that night. I remembered the hesitation in his eyes, the way our bond tugged at my heart when he looked at me, right before he spoke the words that broke me. That pause, it cracked something open inside me. 

So, I waited. The house was loud with celebrations, filled with fake laughter and endless parties for a mating bond built on lies. When everyone was distracted, I slipped out of my room.

Lyria’s room wasn’t easy to get into. Even after the mating ceremony, when the guards were fewer and the house felt relaxed, her door stayed locked. Always. She was careful, paranoid even.

I crouched in front of her door, my heart pounding. “Don’t shake,” I whispered to myself. My fingers brushed the lock as I pulled a hairpin from my pocket. With a quick twist of my wrist, I heard the sharp click open. The sound sent a spark of thrill through me as the door creaked open, just enough for me to slip inside.

Lyria’s room was exactly as I remembered from my past life, lush velvet curtains, glass perfume bottles sparkling on her vanity, creamy silk draped over her bed. A huge gold-framed mirror hung above her dresser, reflecting the dim light. Everything was perfect, too perfect. But this time, I wasn’t here to admire. I was here to find something. Something I’d missed before.

I started with the vanity drawers. I sifted through bottles, lotions, and powders, but found nothing unusual. The nightstand was next, empty. I moved to the dresser, pulling open each drawer carefully. My hands worked quickly, my eyes scanning for anything out of place.

One drawer wouldn’t open. I tugged harder, and it gave way with a soft scrape. That’s when I saw it, a small wooden box, tucked in the corner, hidden beneath a pile of scarves. My breath caught as I lifted it out. The box was old, carved with strange symbols that made my skin prickle.

I opened it slowly. Inside was a small shrine with fetish things, no bigger than my hand. It was filled with dark, red things, items of a black magic. A bundle of dried herbs tied with black thread. A small animal skull, its eyes hollow. And at the center, a glass bottle wrapped in red cloth, knotted tightly. My heart stopped when I saw what was inside the bottle, it was a picture of Theron, his face smiling, folded carefully to fit as the bottle was neatly tied and covered.

I felt sick. This wasn’t just a spell. This was indeed real black magic, something forbidden, something evil. Lyria hadn’t just won Theron’s heart. She’d forced it. She’d used dark power to bind him to her, to steal him from me. My hands shook as I held the bottle, the red cloth rough against my fingers.

My heart is broken. “So this is how you did it, sister,” I said to myself.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps as I hid the bottle under my dress where she couldn't see and quickly placed the remaining black magic back in the dresser and just as I was about to leave, the door creaked behind me and I froze.

“Lycina?”

Lyria stood in the doorway, still wearing her ceremonial gown, her face cold with shock. Her eyes narrowed as she saw me standing by the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice sharp.

I smiled, I wanted something,” I said, keeping my voice steady even though my heart was racing. “Wanted to ask if you needed me to do anything but you weren’t inside.” 

Her brow furrowed. “You’ve never come into my room before.”

I forced a smile, cold and nervous. “Sorry for not informing you about it my Luna.”

She tilted her head, her eyes searching mine. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I stepped toward her, brushing past her shoulder just enough to make her flinch. “Anger is for the blind,” I said softly, my words dripping with venom. “I’m really happy he chose you.” I added. Then I walked out.

Once I was in the hallway, I hurried to my room, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, my breath coming in short gasps. My hands were still shaking, but my mind was clear.

I sank onto my bed as I recalled what I just saw as I held up the bottle. The red cloth was tied so tightly it looked like it was choking the glass. Theron’s picture stared back at me, trapped inside. This was the truth I hadn’t seen in my past life. Lyria hadn’t just taken him, she’d twisted fate itself. She’d used black magic to bend his will, to make him hers.

My wolf stirred inside me, a low growl vibrating in my chest. “This changes everything,” I say.

And it did. This wasn’t just about a stolen bond. It was about betrayal, about mocking something sacred. They thought I’d just accept it, that I’d curl up and let them win.

No.

I knelt by my bed and pried up a loose floorboard, one I’d found in my first life but never used. I tucked the bottle inside, hiding it where no one would find it. Not yet.

“We’re going to burn them all,” I whispered to my wolf, my voice low and cold. The room was silent, but I knew the walls heard me.

I stood up, my hands steady now. The grief that had once consumed me was gone, replaced by something sharper, something dangerous. Lyria thought she could play with fate, but she didn’t know I’d been given a second chance. This time, I wasn’t the broken sister, the one who lost everything. This time, I was the one who saw the truth.

I paced my room, my mind racing. The bottle was proof, but it wasn’t enough. Black magic was dangerous, and Lyria was clever. She’d hidden her tracks well, and if I confronted her now, she’d twist the story, make me look like the jealous one. No, I needed more. I needed to unravel her spell, to break it without her knowing.

I thought of Theron, of the hesitation in his eyes. Did he even know what she’d done to him? Did he feel the pull of our bond, fighting against the magic that bound him to her? My heart ached at the thought, but I pushed it down. There was no room for pain now. Only action.

I sat at my small desk and pulled out a notebook. I started writing down everything I remembered about black magic from the old stories, the warnings we’d been taught as children. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. I’d need to dig deeper, to find someone who knew more about spells like this. Maybe the old healer in the village, the one who kept to herself. She’d always seemed to know things others didn’t. Or maybe the rogue king.

The night stretched on, and I didn’t sleep. My mind was too restless, too focused. Lyria had crossed a line, and I wasn’t going to let her get away with it. She’d stolen Theron, but she wouldn’t keep him. Not this time.

As dawn broke, I hid my notebook under the floorboard with the bottle. I stood up, feeling the weight of my wolf’s strength inside me. This wasn’t just my fight, it was ours.

“We’ll take it all back,” I said, my voice steady now. “And we’ll make her pay.”