Chapter 4

• Chapter four
• From a voice beyond their world
• The Obsidian Throne stood at the heart of the grand chamber, an imposing relic of power and sacrifice.
• Forged from blackened wolf bones and celestial stone, it was no mere seat, it was a living testament to the blood that had been spilled to claim it.
• No one could simply sit upon it and declare themselves Alpha King, it chose its ruler.
• It had will, It had judgment and Seylan knew this better than anyone.
• The moment he stepped into the throne room, he could feel it, the pressure and expectation.
• His father stood at the base of the throne, waiting, his presence as commanding as ever.
• Seylan knew why he had been summoned here, of all places. This was not merely a conversation; it was an instruction and a cautionary tale.
• His father wanted to remind him that his loyalty belonged to the throne, not to his heart.
• Not to a mate, certainly not to a fated one.
• A chosen mate was the logical and necessary option.
• This room was a reminder of what the throne demanded and of what it had taken.
• By birthright, he was the Crown Prince, but the pack already referred to him as ‘Alpha’ just as they did his father.
• That’s because the throne had rejected his father and had chosen him.
• His father, a formidable Alpha, had once been its rightful heir, until it deemed him unworthy due to his decision to retain his destined mate.
• The Obsidian Throne did not abide weakness. It demanded loyalty sworn in blood, strength over love and rule without sentiment.
• Few exceptions had ever been made. The throne had allowed some rulers to keep their fated mates, but only under rare, divine circumstances.
• His father had not been an exception.
• The night the throne accepted Seylan as the new ruler, the entire pack had felt it. A power surge rippling through the air, shaking the very foundation of their world.
• But as Seylan looked at the throne, the magnificent, merciless entity that had decided his fate, something pushed back inside of him, a resistance.
• Because despite everything the throne had given him, its power, its favor, its demands…
• It had not yet claimed his heart.
• Seylan
• “Seylan,” my father began. “The council of elders moved to intervene that you must adhere to the will of the throne.”
• I exhaled slowly. Here we go.
• “They have selected candidates,” he pressed. “Lycans of noble blood, powerful in their own right who would make strong Lunas.”
• “Son, you need to choose a mate, you are bound by duty”
• His voice was firm but earnest.
• I ran a hand through my hair, already weary. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
• “And we’ll have it again until you see reason,” he countered.
• I clenched my jaw. “I see reason, Father. “I just don’t see it your way and I don’t care what the elders think”
• The pressure, the constant push.
• I took a step closer, my voice unyielding-
• “I will wait for my fated mate.”
• His eyes hardened, but I didn’t stop.
• “And when I find her and choose her, what’s the worst that could happen? I lose a few powers?”
• I gestured toward the throne then continued.
• “I am your son, firstborn to Alpha King Aldric and Luna Queen Celeste Vaelthorn, heir to the Primodial bloodline. I bear the throne’s sigil and its powers. Isn’t that enough?”
• He stepped forward.
• “For too long, we have lived in peace, unchallenged,” his voice was low. “The throne has kept our enemies at bay, but that peace is not guaranteed Seylan, It never is.
• There are those who envy what we have and bide their time. And when that time comes and peace breaks, do you want to be weaker than you could be?”
• I didn’t answer.
• Because I knew what he was talking about.
• Even if no one dared challenge us directly, I wasn’t blind.
• I knew that power always came at a cost.
• And that someone was always waiting for a moment of weakness.
• I let out a slow breath, my patience wearing thin.
• I turned toward the throne, the cursed seat that had chosen me, changed my life, shackled me to an expectation I never asked for.
• I pointed at it, my voice rising for the first time that night.
• “Isn’t that enough pressure as it is?”
• “I sometimes hate being in this space.”
• “The weight of my responsibilities is suffocating.”
• “I still see them father, the night I was chosen, when I touched the throne, the wars, the bloodshed, their suffering.”
• My voice echoed, bouncing off the stone walls.
• “It nearly broke me and it still plagues my dreams.”
• I wasn’t sure what I expected from my father, maybe more frustration, more orders,
• but instead, his expression softened.
• I saw something rare in him: understanding.
• He had been here before, the same impossible choice.
• I inhaled deeply, steeling myself.
• “From a young age you groomed me for leadership, you instilled in me strength and strategy, while mother taught me compassion and wisdom.”
• “If and when that time comes, I will do it the Vaelthorn way, where power means nothing if it isn’t used to protect.”
• “I know my life is not my own and I will use it to protect my people.” As I spoke, the sigil over my heart warmed, its etched lines lighting faintly as if sealing my vow. It wasn’t just my kin I meant, not anymore. VaelTech had shown me the stakes for both my pack and the human world, and the task ahead brought my focus back to tomorrow’s trip to Geneva.
• “I have a flight to catch,” I said, voice steady. “An early flight.”
• My father’s lips pressed together, but he nodded once….A silent dismissal.
• For all his warnings, his fears and expectations, I had already made my choice.
• I turned, walking toward the doors without looking back.
• On my way out I nearly collided with my mother.
• She stood in the hallway, a vision of poise and quiet strength, her presence as commanding as it was comforting. The woman who had built not just a kingdom, but a home.
• The Great Luna of the Obsidian Throne Pack.
• She took one look at me, and I knew she sensed everything.
• Without hesitation, she pulled me into a warm embrace.
• “You’re leaving?” she asked softly.
• “Yes,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
• She held onto me for a moment longer, as if reading me in the way only a mother could.
• Then she pulled back, her gaze searching.
• “Where’s your father?”
• I gestured toward the throne room.
• She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Of course he is.”
• I almost smiled at that, but I didn’t linger.
• “Don’t let him push you too hard, Seylan,” she added gently.
• I nodded once and walked away, heading to the city.
• Obsidian, steeped in tradition that dictates everything, will always be my home. But I was a man standing between two worlds, and staying at my penthouse allowed me to navigate both seamlessly.
• The elders hated my modern approach to leadership, but living beyond their constant scrutiny gave me the space to strategize and rule without pressure. Calgary, Alberta was neutral ground for dealing with outsiders.