ALICIA’s POV

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Father was obsessed. Every waking moment, every breath he took was consumed by the search for Freya. My stepsister, the perfect daughter. The one he still called his "little sunbeam," though she’d been missing for just a few days. Her name lingered in the halls like a ghost, haunting every corner of the castle.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

From my vantage point in the grand dining hall, I watched him. King Sindair, once proud and commanding, now gaunt and worn. His hands, which had once wielded a sword with unmatched strength, now trembled as they held yet another letter from a hopeful bounty hunter. The promise of gold—enough to buy kingdoms—had drawn in mercenaries, lycans, and werewolves from across the land. Yet none returned with Freya.

She was gone. I was happy with the news of disappointment but my father was becoming a shell.

I wanted to tell him to stop, to see reason. But I knew better. He wouldn’t listen to me. I was just Alicia, the forgotten one, the shadow to Freya’s light.

Freya, with her golden hair and infectious laugh, had always been his favorite. Even as children, she’d had his heart. No matter how hard I tried, my achievements were met with polite nods, while Freya’s smallest victories were celebrated with feasts.

But now, her absence had swallowed him whole.

“Father,” I said gently, approaching him where he sat at the long oak table. The candlelight flickered against the deep lines of his face.

He didn’t look up. “What is it, Alicia?”

I hesitated, then pressed on. “You’ve barely eaten. The search… it’s draining you.”

“It’s worth it,” he said curtly, his eyes scanning the letter again. “Freya is worth it.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, willing myself to stay calm. “I know she is. But... What if she’s gone, Father? What if Damian—”

He slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the hall. “Do not speak of her as if she’s dead!”

“Don't you dare mention her name in the same sentence as the dead!” his eyes darkened with terror.

His outburst silenced me. I stood there, eating at the innards of my cheek, fighting the tears threatening to spill.

“I will find her,” he continued, his voice breaking. “No matter the cost.”

It was then I realized he would destroy himself for her. His kingdom, his people, even me—none of it mattered compared to Freya.

But I wouldn’t let him ruin us for a girl who might never return.

That night, I went to his study while he slept. The parchment he used to pen his desperate pleas for help was laid out neatly on the desk, next to the royal seal. I stared at it for a long time, the weight of my decision settling over me like a heavy cloak.

Then, I took the parchment and inked a new decree.

By the Order of King Sindair; The search for Princess Freya is officially concluded. No further rewards shall be granted for information regarding her whereabouts.

My hand trembled as I pressed the royal seal into the wax. It was done.

When morning came, Father was furious. His shouts filled the castle, demanding to know who had dared to end the search. But he couldn’t undo the decree. The word of the king was law.

I avoided him for days, guilt gnawing at my insides. But as the castle grew quieter, as the kingdom began to stabilize, I knew I’d done the right thing.

Father might never forgive me. But at least I’d saved him from himself and I was proud of my decision.

*****

FREYA’s POV

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I always thought I was ordinary. A simple human girl with little more than a dream of living with my father in peace and quiet—a dream stolen the night Damian kidnapped me. He’d dragged me into a world of shadows and chaos, a world I’d never known existed. I hated him for it, hated the bloodstained smile he wore when he told me I was “special.”

Special.

The word haunted me.

But it wasn’t until I felt the surge of power in my veins that I understood what he meant.

The fight started like any other disagreement in the pack. A guard stood in my way as I tried to leave the encampment, his towering frame blocking the narrow exit.

“You’re not allowed to leave, Freya,” he growled, his voice thick with authority. “Orders from Damian himself.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides. “I’m not his prisoner anymore,” I snapped. “Move.”

The guard didn’t budge. His amber eyes gleamed with challenge, and I felt my temper ignite. I’d been patient—far too patient—since my escape from Damian’s grasp. But this? This was the final straw.

“I said, move.”

He smirked, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Or what?”

I didn’t have a plan, but something inside me shifted. A spark of heat, a rush of adrenaline—it surged through my body like wildfire. Before I could stop myself, I lunged.

The fight was over before it even began.

I hit him harder than I thought possible, sending him sprawling across the dirt with a single punch. The shock in his eyes mirrored my own as he scrambled to his feet, blood dripping from his split lip.

“What the hell are you?” he snarled, backing away.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My heart was racing, my breaths coming in sharp gasps. The energy coursing through me was intoxicating, overwhelming. I stared down at my hands, half expecting them to glow or burn, but they looked the same.

The guard wasn’t done. He charged again, claws extending from his fingertips as he shifted partially into his wolf form. But I was faster. Too fast. I dodged his attack with ease, grabbing his arm and twisting it behind his back. The strength in my grip shocked us both.

“Stop!” he cried out, and I released him, watching as he stumbled away. His eyes were wide with fear now. “You’re not... normal.”

Neither was he. None of them were. But I knew what he meant.

“What’s happening to me?” I whispered, more to myself than to him.

The guard didn’t respond. He took one last wary look at me before retreating into the shadows, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I spent the rest of the night pacing in my small room, replaying the fight over and over in my mind. The speed, the strength, the instinct—it wasn’t human. It wasn’t even a wolf.

Damian’s words came rushing back to me.

“You’re more than you think, Freya. You’re special now. My blood made you so.”

My stomach churned at the memory. My life slipped from my hands as the dagger sunk in my chest. But I had woken up, hadn’t I? And now I understand why. I had been confused as to how I was alive.

He’d used his own blood to resuscitate me.

The realization hit me like a freight train. Damian wasn’t just any wolf—he was a lycan king and I now understood what he meant. And now... it was something I never knew existed.

A tribrid. A human, witch and a lycan.

The word sounded foreign, like it didn’t belong to me. But I couldn’t deny what I felt, what I’d done. Damian’s blood had changed me in ways I was only beginning to understand.

Morning came too quickly, the light filtering through my window as I sat on the edge of my bed, still lost in thought. The knock on my door startled me, and I tensed as it opened without waiting for permission.

It was Damian.

He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk as infuriating as ever. “I heard about your little fight last night.”

I glared at him. “What did you do to me?”

Damian stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “I saved your life,” he said simply.

“By turning me into... this?” I gestured to myself, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “What am I, Damian?”

He tilted his head, studying me like I was some fascinating experiment. “You’re what you were always meant to be. Stronger. Faster. Better.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” I snapped, standing to face him.

“No,” he admitted, his smirk fading. “But it was necessary. You wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”

I wanted to scream, to hit him, but deep down, I knew he was right. I wouldn’t have survived.

Damian stepped closer, his voice softening. “And i only awakened what was asleep” he leaned closer “You’re extraordinary now, Freya. You can hate me all you want, I just couldn't watch you die.”

I shook my head, my chest tightening with a mixture of rage and fear. “I’ll never thank you.”

He shrugged, his smirk returning. “We’ll see.”

As he left, I clenched my fists, the lingering energy in my veins humming with potential.

I might not have wanted this, but it was mine now. And I’d figure out how to use it—on my terms, not his.