My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 486

Chapter 486: Chapter 486 ENDLESS NUMBERS

SERAPHINA’S POV

Together, we stepped through.

The barrier closed around us, and for one breathless moment, the world vanished. There was no beach behind us, no ocean, no sun.

Darkness scraped my skin, searching for entry. The silver markings on my back blazed in answer.

Then we broke through the other side.

Sound rushed back.

Waves. Wind. Boots hitting wet sand as the first wave of warriors followed us through.

We stood on Catherine’s island.

The beauty was gone, but not from the landscape. The palm trees still swayed. The water still glittered. The white sand still curved gently along the shore.

But beneath it all, everything felt wrong.

The air smelled too sweet, like flowers left too long in a sealed room. The birds didn’t call. The trees did not rustle naturally, even though the wind moved through them.

Every shadow beneath the foliage seemed thicker than it should have been, and the estate on the ridge gleamed in the distance with polished, indifferent elegance.

Kieran released my hand only to draw closer to my side.

Behind us, the breach shimmered faintly, held open by Alois, Corin, and the others on the far side.

Then the sand shifted.

I went still.

Kieran’s head turned slightly.

Around us, the tree line moved.

One figure stepped out first.

Then another.

Then dozens.

“Here we go,” Kieran murmured.

Rogues emerged from the foliage soundlessly, their eyes sharp with feral malice.

Some gripped weapons. Others bared claws.

Some bore the unmistakable signs of Catherine’s alterations—dark veins crawling beneath their skin, scars too clean to be natural, eyes reflecting light in a way no living wolf’s eyes should.

Then the puppets came.

They stepped from behind the rogues with unnerving stillness, wearing faces that might once have belonged to real people.

Some looked almost alive until they moved, and then the wrongness became impossible to miss.

Their expressions lagged behind their bodies. Their eyes were empty.

Threads of dark magic clung to them like invisible leashes, and beneath those leashes I felt fragments of broken souls.

A warrior behind me whispered a curse.

The trees continued to give them up.

More rogues. More puppets.

Too many to have gathered by chance.

They had been waiting.

Kieran’s power rolled outward, dark and commanding, and every allied warrior behind us shifted into formation with practiced precision.

I stared at the faces of the puppets surrounding us, my stomach twisting.

Some of them were familiar, not because I knew them personally, but because I had seen them before in reports, in missing-person files, in photographs spread across tables back at Nightfang.

Beside me, Kieran’s expression hardened.

His eyes moved across the crowd once.

Then his voice cut through the silence. “Advance.” 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The first rogue lunged from the trees with a roar.

He never even made it close. Kieran moved before I fully registered the attack—one second standing beside me and the next becoming nothing but motion and power.

Ashar surged through him with violent force, and Alpha pressure detonated outward like a mountain collapsing beneath unbearable weight.

The rogue was thrown backward so hard that his body slammed into the sand, carving out a shallow crater on impact.

The shockwave rippled through the others, and several rogues staggered as if struck by an invisible wall, some dropping to one knee while others blinked in disoriented confusion beneath the crushing force of Kieran’s dominance.

But the puppets kept walking.

They did not hesitate. They did not falter. They simply continued forward with the same hollow, measured steps as if nothing had happened at all.

The battlefield erupted around us as our warriors charged.

Steel flashed beneath the sun as they collided with the first wave of enemies, claws and blades tearing through the heavy silence that had hung over the beach only seconds earlier.

The sounds crashed together into a storm of movement and impact—growls and shouted commands mixing with the clash of metal, the spray of sand beneath pounding feet, and the savage snarls of wolves as bodies met head-on.

One puppet charged at me.

She looked about twenty, with dark hair tangled around half-healed scars twisting along the length of her throat.

For one terrible heartbeat, our eyes met, and my chest tightened painfully because they were not empty.

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