The Messenger( Iva) novel Chapter 344

The great hall had fallen into a tense, suffocating silence.

Caleb stood at the head of the table, his eyes blazing with cold fury. The assembled Council members and high-ranking wolves shifted uneasily in their seats, their faces pale, their hands trembling. They had been summoned for an emergency meeting. They had been accused of complicity in a heinous crime. And now, they were about to face a reckoning they had never anticipated.

Caleb raised his hand.

A group of Praetorian guards entered the hall, carrying a massive stone basin between them. It was ancient-carved from obsidian, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to writhe and shift in the flickering torchlight. They placed it at the center of the room, its weight causing the marble floor to tremble.

The assembled wolves stared at the basin in confusion.

“What is this?” one of the Council members asked, his voice trembling.

Caleb’s lips curved into a cold smile.

“This,” he said, “is the Fountain of Truth.”

A ripple of shock passed through the room.

The Fountain of Truth was legend-an ancient artifact from the time of the Moon Goddess herself. It was said to possess the power to reveal the truth, no matter how deeply it was buried. Those who lied in its presence would be exposed, their deceptions laid bare for all to

see.

But the ritual had been forgotten. Lost to time.

Or so everyone believed.

“I thought the ritual was lost,” another Council member whispered, his face pale.

Caleb’s eyes swept across the room.

“The Moon Goddess does not forget,” he said. “And neither do I.”

He stepped forward, his hand resting on the edge of the basin.

“This ritual has not been performed in centuries,” he said. “But the knowledge of it has been passed down through the royal bloodline, from parent to child, from generation to generation.

It is a sacred trust-a weapon of last resort, reserved for moments of great crisis’

The assembled wolves stared at him, their faces a mixture of awe and fear

“Each of you will approach the fountain,” Caleb continued. “You will place your hand on its surface, and you will swear that you had no part in freeing Alpha Calin. If you are telling the truth, nothing will happen. But if you are lying-” He paused, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “The fountain will reveal your deception to all… and you might end up loosing your wolf”

A murmur rippled through the room.

“These are your only options,” Caleb said, his voice hard and unyielding. “Submit to the truth- or face my judgment.”

The first Council member approached the fountain, his hand trembling as he placed it on the cool obsidian surface.

“I swear,” he said, his voice shaking, “that I had no part in freeing Alpha Calin.”

The fountain remained still.

The Council member exhaled in relief and stepped back.

One by one, the wolves approached the fountain.

Some were calm, their hands steady, their voices confident.

Others trembled, their faces pale, their voices cracking.

One by one, they were tested.

And one by one, they passed.

The tension in the room began to ease. The wolves exchanged glances, some of them daring to hope that the culprit would not be found, that the threat would pass. Some, they started to wonder if the artifact was indeed genuine,

Then Lord Scott stepped forward.

He moved with the measured confidence of a man who had never doubted his own superiority. His expression was calm, his gaze steady, his posture perfectly controlled.

He placed his hand on the fountain.

“I swear,” he said, his voice smooth and unruffled, “that I had no part in freeing Alpha Calin.”

Lord Scott’s scream echoed through the hall as the guards dragged him away

The assembled wolves watched in stunned silence, their faces pale, their hands trembling

They had witnessed something ancient and terrible.

And they had learned a lesson they would never forget.

The fountain had spoken.

And the liar had paid the price.

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The lesson

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The Lesson

The private chambers were cloaked in a heavy, contemplative silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth and the distant echo of footsteps retreating down the corridor. The warm glow of the flames cast dancing shadows across the walls, painting the room in shades of amber and gold, but the warmth did not reach Attia’s eyes.

He stood by the tall window, his back to the room, his hands clasped tightly behind him. His reflection stared back at him from the dark glass-a ghost of the general he had been, a shadow of the son he had once tried to be. His jaw was tight, his shoulders rigid, his entire body coiled with a tension that had nothing to do with the physical realm.

He had just watched his father be stripped of everything.

Not just his title. Not just his freedom. But his very essence-his wolf, his soul, his identity. The beast that had lived within him since birth, that had defined him, that had made him who he was, had been ripped away in a single, devastating moment.

The man who had raised him. The man who had shaped him. The man who had tried to destroy him.

Attia had never loved his father. Not truly. Not in the way a son should love a father. He had respected him, in his own way. Feared him. Tried, for years, to earn his approval, to live up to his impossible standards, to be the son that Lord Scott had always demanded he be.

But that man was gone now.

Reduced to a hollow shell, a broken husk, shattered by the very power he had sought to wield. His wolf-his strength, his pride, his legacy-was gone. And with it, everything he had ever believed made him worthy.

The irony was not lost on Attia. His father had spent his entire life amassing power, controlling others, manipulating the system to serve his own ends. And in the end, it was that same system-that same power-that had destroyed him.

Attia heard footsteps behind him. Soft, measured, deliberate. He did not turn.

Caleb approached, his expression cautious, his eyes searching Attia’s face for any sign of the storm that must be raging beneath the calm surface. He had seen the look in Attia’s eyes when Lord Scott had been dragged from the hall. He had seen the flicker of shock, of pain, of something that might have been grief.

“I’m sorry it came to this,” Caleb said quietly, his voice low and sincere. “But he had every chance to confess. I gave him the opportunity, again and again. He chose the path of

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The Lesson

deception.”

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Attia was silent for a long moment, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire and the distant murmur of the castle settling around them.

Then he turned, his face calm, his voice steady, his eyes betraying nothing of the turmoil

within.

“He got what he deserved,” he said simply. “Don’t worry about me.”

Caleb studied him for a long moment, searching for any sign of hidden grief, of unspoken pain, of the wounds that must be festering beneath the surface. But Attia’s expression was a mask-impenetrable, unreadable, carved from stone.

Finding nothing, Caleb nodded and turned toward Iva.

Iva stood near the fireplace, her arms wrapped protectively around herself, her face pale against the glow of the flames. She had watched the entire scene unfold-the ritual, the confession, the punishment-and she had felt the weight of it settle over her like a shroud.

Caleb crossed to her, his hands reaching for hers, his fingers intertwining with her cold,

trembling ones.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice soft with concern.

Iva nodded, leaning into him, her body relaxing against his solid warmth. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting his presence anchor her.

“It was really necessary to put him through the Fountain of Truth?” she asked, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I’ve read about it in old wolf tales. I never imagined it was real.”

Caleb’s arms tightened around her, pulling her close.

“It’s real,” he said. “The Fountain of Truth was created in the time of the Moon Goddess herself. It is a sacred artifact, a tool of last resort, reserved for moments of great crisis. The ritual is ancient, powerful, and final.”

Iva pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face, her brow furrowed with thought.

“Why didn’t you just use the Alpha King’s command?” she asked, her voice soft and curious. “You could have compelled him to confess without the ritual. He would have been forced to admit everything-the alliance, the plot, the release of Calin. Why go through the ritual?”

Her expression shifted, slowly transforming from confusion to dawning understanding.

“Unless…”

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Lesson

She paused, her eyes widening.

“Unless you already knew who the culprit was.”

Caleb’s smile was slow, approving, proud. He looked at her with a warmth that made her

heart swell.

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“My Crown Princess is correct,” he said. “I knew. I knew the moment the Praetorians reported that Calin had been released. I knew the moment I reviewed the security logs and found the gaps, the inconsistencies, the carefully erased evidence. I knew that only someone with the resources and influence of Lord Scott could have orchestrated such a breach.”

He paused, his voice hardening.

“A simple confession and a trial before the Council would have been a slap on the wrist for someone like Lord Scott. For decades, he has gathered power, built alliances, curried favor with the Council. He has placed his people in key positions, created a web of obligation and debt that would have protected him from any consequences. Do you really believe he would have faced real punishment in the end?”

Iva shook her head slowly.

“The corruption runs too deep.”

“Exactly.” Caleb’s eyes blazed with a cold, righteous fire. “I needed to make an example of him. I needed to show the Council, the Alphas, every wolf in the kingdom-that no one is above the law. That the old ways, the corrupt ways, are over. That the days of manipulation and secret alliances are done.”

He placed his hand over her stomach, his touch gentle yet fierce.

“And I needed to send a message to anyone who might ever think of threatening you or our child. I needed them to see what happens to those who dare to attack the royal family.”

Iva’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“You did this for us?”

Caleb’s voice was fierce, unwavering.

“I would burn the entire kingdom to the ground to keep you safe, Iva. I would tear down every council, destroy every alliance, topple every power structure that threatens you. You are my mate. My future. My everything.”

Attia watched them from the window, his face unreadable, his emotions carefully hidden behind a mask of calm. But inside, something was shifting.

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He had spent so long feeling alone. Abandoned. Betrayed by the family that should have protected him. He had built walls around his heart, convinced himself that he needed no one, that he was better off alone.

But watching Caleb and Iva, seeing the fierce protectiveness, the unconditional love, the way they stood together against the world-it made him feel something he had long forgotten.

Hope.

And then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips-a genuine, warm smile that reached his eyes and softened the hard edges of his face.

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assure

Clam

Closure

The dungeon was cold, damp, and smelled of ancient stone and despair. Torches flickered in iron sconces along the walls, casting wavering shadows across the rough-hewn stone. The air was thick with the weight of centuries of confinement-the silent screams of those who had been forgotten, the echoes of lives that had ended in darkness.

Attia descended the worn stone steps, his footsteps measured, his face carefully neutral. He had not slept. He had barely eaten. The image of his father, broken and defeated, had haunted the edges of his mind since the moment the Fountain of Truth had exposed his deception.

He had not come to gloat.

He had not come to seek revenge.

He had come to see for himself-to look into the eyes of the man who had shaped him, who had broken him, who had tried to destroy everything he loved. He had come to find closure.

The guard at the bottom of the stairs bowed his head, stepping aside to reveal the cell at the end of the corridor.

Lord Scott sat on a cold stone bench, his back against the wall, his hands resting limply on his knees. He was a shadow of the man he had been-his once-imposing frame hunched, his aristocratic features gaunt, his eyes hollow and empty.

The wolf was gone.

Attia could feel it-the absence of the beast that had once burned within his father, the void

where power had once resided. It was like staring at a painting of a man, a hollow shell that

held no life, no warmth, no soul.

Attia stood at the bars, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Father,” he said quietly.

Lord Scott looked up.

His eyes-those cold, calculating eyes that had once made lesser wolves tremble-were dull and lifeless. But as they focused on Attia, something flickered in their depths.

Rage.

“Come to gloat?” Lord Scott’s voice was a hoarse rasp, stripped of its former authority. “Come to watch your father rot?”

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Shasure

Attia shook his head slowly.

“I came to see you,” he said simply. “To understand.”

Lord Scott’s lips twisted into a bitter snarl.

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“Understand?” he spat. “You think you can understand anything? You, who walked away from everything I built? You, who threw away your legacy for a nobody?”

Attia’s expression remained unchanged.

“The irony is that you are the one who is a nobody now,” he said, his voice calm and measured.

Lord Scott’s face contorted with fury.

“You insolent-” he snarled, lurching to his feet, his hands gripping the bars. “I built you! I gave you everything-every advantage, every opportunity, every chance to become something great. And you threw it all away. For nothing. For her.”

Attia held his father’s gaze without flinching.

“You gave me nothing,” he said quietly. “You gave me expectations. Demands. A prison disguised as a legacy. You never asked what I wanted. You never cared about what I needed. I was just a tool to you-a means to an end.”

Lord Scott’s grip tightened on the bars, his knuckles white.

“Tool?” he repeated, his voice rising. “I was trying to make you a king! I was trying to give you the life you deserved-the power, the influence, the respect. And you spat on it. You spat on

me.”

“I never wanted your power,” Attia said. “I never wanted your influence. I wanted a father. A family. Something real.”

Lord Scott laughed-a hollow, bitter sound that echoed through the dungeon.

“A father?” he jeered. “You think you deserve a father? You think you deserve anything? You are weak, Attia. Weak and useless. You always have been.”

His voice rose to a snarl.

“You could have been the greatest Alpha this kingdom has ever seen. You had the bloodline, the training, the potential, the resources. But you threw it all away. For what? For a little girl playing doctor? For a Delta?”

Attia’s eyes hardened.

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Clan

“Her name is Lori,” he said, his voice cold and sharp as a blade. “And she is my mate. My partner. My future. I am not seeking your blessing, Father. I am not seeking your approval. I am telling you-you have no power over me anymore.”

Lord Scott’s face twisted with rage.

“Your mate?” he spat. “She is nothing. A nobody. A Delta who climbed the ladder on her back and-”

“Don’t,” Attia interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare speak about her that

way. You know nothing about her. You know nothing about us.”

Lord Scott laughed again-cold, mocking, dismissive.

“I know enough,” he sneered. “I know you have thrown away everything for a woman… no,… a little girl … who will never be worthy of you. I know you have destroyed our family’s legacy for a fleeting infatuation. You could have bedded her, keep her as your side mistress, and go on with a proper alliance. I know you are a disappointment, a failure, a—”

“I feel pity for you,” Attia said, cutting him off.

Lord Scott’s mouth snapped shut.

His eyes went wide with disbelief.

“Pity?” he repeated, his voice cracking.

Attia met his gaze, his eyes cold and steady.

“Yes,” he said. “Pity. Because you have spent your entire life chasing power, controlling others, manipulating everyone around you. And in the end, you have nothing. No family. No allies. No legacy. Just this-a cold cell, a fading reputation, and a son who despises everything you stand for.”

Lord Scott’s face went pale.

“I am confirming,” Attia continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, “what you wanted from the beginning and mentioned last time we saw each other. I am severing any relation with the Scott family. I am forging my own future-not as your son, not as your heir, but as myself.”

He turned to leave.

Lord Scott’s voice followed him, sharp and desperate.

“You think you can escape me?” he called out. “You think you can escape the Scott name?

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You will always be my son. You will always be tied to this family. No matter how far you run, you will never be free of me.”

Attia paused at the bottom of the stairs.

He turned, his eyes blazing with quiet fire.

“You are wrong, Father,” he said softly. “I am already free. I have been free since the moment I chose Lori over your schemes. I have been free since the moment I walked away from your poison.”

He took a step closer to the cell.

“I am going to build a life-a real life-with the woman I love. I am going to have a family, a future, a purpose that has nothing to do with you. And when I look back at this moment, I am going to feel nothing but relief that I finally escaped.”

Lord Scott’s face crumpled.

Attia turned and walked up the stairs, leaving his father alone in the darkness.

The dungeon was silent once more.

And in his cell, Lord Scott sank to the floor, his head in his hands, the weight of his choices pressing down on him like a shroud.

He had lost everything.

His power. His influence. His legacy. His family.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Elle Vintea

I hope you are enjoying this story. If yes, while waiting for the next chapters, don’t forget to try one of my latest completed books, Omega’s Christmas Ball and I can guarantee that you will not regret.

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44

Tw Awakening 1

Cla

The Awakening-1

The room was bathed in soft, golden light, filtering through sheer curtains that billowed gently in the warm breeze. The walls were painted a pale cream, adorned with delicate floral patterns that seemed to dance in the sunlight. A vase of fresh wildflowers sat on the windowsill, their petals brushing against the glass like whispered secrets.

Meriem’s eyes fluttered open.

For a long moment, she simply lay still, her gaze unfocused, her mind struggling to piece together the fragments of consciousness that had scattered like leaves in the wind. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar-smooth, white, unmarked by the cracks and stains and mould that had adorned the ceiling of her prison for so many years.

She blinked.

The room came into focus.

It was beautiful. Warm. Inviting. Everything her prison had not been.

But it felt foreign. Unreal. Like a dream she was afraid to wake from.

She tried to move.

Her body screamed in protest. Every muscle, every joint, every fiber of her being ached with the weight of years of abuse. The wolfsbane that had been fed to her for so long had left its mark-a slow, insidious poison that had weakened her from the inside out. Her limbs felt heavy, her skin sensitive, her mind foggy.

She groaned softly, her hand reaching out to touch the soft sheets beneath her.

A voice, soft and warm, broke through the haze.

“Meriem?”

Meriem turned her head slowly.

Lori sat beside the bed, her face pale with worry, her eyes red-rimmed as if she had been crying. Her hand reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from Meriem’s face.

“You’re awake,” Lori breathed, her voice trembling with relief. “Oh, thank the Goddess. You’re awake.”

Meriem’s throat was dry. Her voice came out as a rasp.

“Where… where am I?”

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Awakening 1

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“The royal castle, Lori said gently. “Iva’s chambers. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Three days.

Meriem’s eyes widened.

“Three days?”

Lori nodded, her expression softening.

“The bond-when it broke, it sent your body into shock. You’ve been through so much, Meriem. So much pain, so much trauma. Your body needed time to heal.”

Meriem’s eyes filled with tears.

“I remember,” she whispered. “The pain. The screaming. And then-” She paused, her hand moving instinctively to her chest. “He’s gone. I can’t feel him anymore.”

Lori reached out and took her hand, her grip warm and reassuring.

“He’s gone, Meriem. He can never hurt you again.”

Meriem’s composure shattered.

The tears came fast and hard-great, heaving sobs that tore through her chest. Years of pain, years of fear, years of being trapped in a nightmare that had no end-all of it came pouring out in a torrent of grief and relief.

Lori pulled her into a gentle embrace, holding her close, murmuring soft reassurances.

“Let it out,” she whispered. “Let it all out. You’re safe now.”

Meriem clung to her, her fingers digging into Lori’s shirt.

“I don’t-” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been trapped for so long. I’ve had no one. No family. No friends. No one to turn to. I’m so scared, Lori. I’m so scared of the future.”

Lori pulled back, her hands cupping Meriem’s tear-stained face.

“Listen to me,” she said firmly. “You are not alone anymore. You have me. You have Attia. You have Iva and Caleb. You have all of us. And you have your pack… as in the end you are the rightful heir.”

Meriem shook her head frantically.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice cracking. “Calin’s people are still out there. His allies, his followers-they won’t just accept that he’s gone. They’ll come after me. They’ll-”

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“Then they’ll have to go through all of us,” Lori interrupted, her voice fierce. “You are not facing this alone, Meriem. We are your family now. We will protect you.”

Meriem’s eyes searched Lori’s face, looking for the lie, the false promise, the hollow

reassurance.

She found none.

Lori’s expression softened.

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“I know this is overwhelming,” she said gently. “I know you’re scared. But you don’t have to make any decisions right now. You don’t have to figure everything out at once. Just take it one day at a time.”

Meriem swallowed hard.

“What about the pack?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m the rightful heir. I know I am. But I don’t know if I want to go back. The memories, the abuse, the people who stood by and did nothing-those who knew the truth – I don’t know if I can face them.”

Lori squeezed her hand.

“Then don’t,” she said simply. “Not yet. Stay here with us. Heal. Rest. Let yourself remember

what it feels like to be safe.”

Meriem’s tears flowed freely.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for everything. Without you and your mate…”

Lori smiled, her eyes shining.

“You don’t have to thank us,” she said. “You’re family now. And family takes care of each other.”

Meriem lay back against the pillows, her body still weak, but her heart a little lighter.

For the first time in years, she felt something she had almost forgotten.

Hope.

The door to Meriem’s room clicked softly shut behind Lori.

She leaned against the cool stone wall for a moment, her eyes closed, her breath slow and steady. The emotional weight of the past hour pressed down on her shoulders like a physical. burden. Meriem’s tears, her fear, her fragile hope-it all lingered in Lori’s heart like an echo.

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The Awakening-1

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She pushed off from the wall and walked down the corridor, her footsteps soft against the worn stone floor.

Attia was waiting for her at the end of the hall.

He stood by the tall window, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the courtyard below. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across his face, illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw, the tired set of his shoulders.

He turned when he heard her approach.

The moment their eyes met, something in his expression shifted-the tension in his jaw eased, the cold distance in his gaze softened. He opened his arms, and Lori walked into them without hesitation.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him-pine and earth and something that was uniquely his. His arms enveloped her, his chin resting on top of her head.

“How is she?” he asked, his voice low and quiet.

Lori pulled back just enough to look up at him.

“She’s awake,” she said. “She’s scared. She doesn’t know what to do with herself now that she’s free.” She paused. “But she’s going to be okay. I think, for the first time in a long time, she believes that.”

Attia nodded slowly, his thumb tracing absent circles on Lori’s back.