"The curse is designed to spread. One memory triggers it, and it cascades through the entire family line, targeting anyone with my blood. Finn would die. Any children I might have in the future would die."

I sank into a chair, the horror of it washing over me. "Then you can never have your memories back. Ever."

"Apparently not without killing my little brother." Xavier's voice was hollow.

I wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. Morgana was dead, but her final curse lived on, ensuring I could never have Xavier's love again.

"Wait," Xavier said, flipping through another book. "There's more here. Records about Alpha James."

I looked over his shoulder. The pages detailed investigations into James's rule, documents proving what I'd always suspected.

"He wasn't a tyrant," Xavier read aloud. "He was trying to prevent powerful wolves from being weaponized by the Council. He saw what they were doing, how they manipulated strong Alphas, how they eliminated anyone who threatened their control. Damien lied. The Council lied. They killed James because he was exposing their corruption."

"Just like they're trying to kill me now," I said bitterly.

Xavier looked at me, really looked at me. "You're innocent. All of it, the charges, the accusations, they're just politics. They want you dead because you're powerful and they can't control you."

"Yes."

"And I forgot you. I forgot someone who's clearly important, someone who, who—" He struggled for words. "Someone my soul recognizes even if my mind doesn't."

Before I could respond, alarms blared throughout the Archives. Red light flooded the space.

"We triggered a ward," Xavier said. "Run!"

We grabbed the books we needed and sprinted for the exit. Behind us, I heard shouting, running footsteps. The entire Silver Moon guard force was converging on our location.

We burst out of the Archives into the night air. Warriors surrounded us within seconds, at least twenty of them with weapons drawn.

And at their head stood Damien, his face twisted with fury.

"Xavier, step away from the prisoner," Damien commanded.

Xavier moved, but not away from me. He stepped in front of me, placing himself between me and the warriors.

"No," he said simply.

"She's a criminal. She escaped custody. By protecting her, you're committing treason."

"This trial is corrupt," Xavier replied, his voice strong and clear. "You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. You're executing her for political reasons, not justice."

Damien's face darkened. "Even without your memories, you choose her over your pack. You really are pathetic."

He moved forward, hand raised to strike me. Xavier's entire body went rigid.

"Don't," Xavier growled.

But Damien didn't listen. His hand came down toward my face.

Something inside Xavier exploded.

Power erupted from him in a wave that knocked everyone back several steps. His eyes flashed brilliant gold, brighter than any Alpha's I'd ever seen. The air itself seemed to vibrate with his rage.

A roar tore from Xavier's throat, a sound of pure Alpha dominance that made every wolf present drop to their knees involuntarily. Even Damien stumbled, his eyes wide with shock.

The ground beneath us trembled. The Archives behind us shook, stones falling from the walls. Xavier's power was immense, overwhelming, impossible.

He was shifting, bones cracking and reforming, but not into a normal wolf. His body grew larger, more powerful, his wolf form glowing with golden light.

A True Alpha.

"That's impossible," Damien whispered, staring in horror. "You're not Alpha born. You can't be a True Alpha."

But Xavier was. A True Alpha, the rarest form of werewolf, one who awakened not through bloodline but through absolute willingness to die for another. It happened maybe once every hundred years.

And it was happening now.

Xavier's massive wolf form placed itself between me and every single warrior. His golden eyes swept across them, promising death to anyone who moved.

When he spoke, his voice was layered with power that made the air itself obey.

"Touch her, and die."

The words weren't a threat. They were a fact, a fundamental truth written into reality itself.

No one moved. No one dared.

And I stood behind this man who didn't remember loving me, watching him protect me anyway, and my heart broke and mended all at once. Because memory or no memory, his soul knew mine. And nothing, not even Morgana's curse, could change that.