Chapter 18 - The Whispers of the South
The return to the capital was a grand procession of victory.
Wagons overflowing with grain and iron rolled through the city gates, met by cheering crowds of citizens who tossed winter flowers into the path of the royal carriage. The threat of starvation had vanished, replaced by an abundance that guaranteed the kingdom’s survival through the coming winter.
However, behind the grand celebrations, a new, subtle mystery began to unfold within the palace walls.
In the quiet privacy of the royal archives, Grace sat at a long oak table covered in ancient maps of the continent. Beside her was Maya, who had been appointed as the Head of the New Council of Lands.
"Grace," Maya said, pointing to an uncharted region south of the Sunken Sea. "When we cataloged Malakor’s private letters in Iron Ridge, we found several encrypted messages sent from the Southern Empire of Solaria."
Grace leaned in, examining the wax seals on the letters. They bore the emblem of a golden sun rising over an ocean—the crest of Emperor Valerius, ruler of the vast southern human realm.
"What did the messages say?" Grace asked, her brow furrowing.
"They were financial ledgers," Maya replied quietly. "Baroness Celeste wasn't just working with corrupt local lords. She was selling silver-blood Omegas to the Southern Empire."
Grace froze, a sudden coldness gripping her heart. "Selling them?"
"The humans in the south have no wolf blood," Maya explained, her voice trembling slightly. "But their alchemists discovered that the Silver-Moon bloodline possesses incredible healing properties. Celeste was secretly exporting rejected Omegas across the border in exchange for southern gold and dark iron."
Grace slammed her hands onto the table, standing up as her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "That’s why the medical records were altered! It wasn't just to strip us of land titles—it was to make us disappear completely so we could be smuggled out of the realm!"
"Grace?" Nathaniel’s deep voice called out from the doorway. He had walked in just in time to hear the revelation, his face instantly hardening into a mask of pure fury. "Is this true?"
"It’s worse than we thought, Nathaniel," Grace said, her voice shaking with righteous anger. "Moon Hall wasn't just an isolation tower. It was a holding cell for a human trafficking ring operating right beneath your nose!"
Nathaniel walked to the table, his eyes locked onto the southern maps. His wolf growled dangerously, a dark aura flaring around his massive frame.
"How many women were sent south before we shut down Moon Hall?" Nathaniel demanded.
Maya pulled a smaller, dusty ledger from her satchel. "According to these records... over the last ten years... forty-seven Omegas were taken during the night and declared 'deceased from illness'."
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Grace looked up at Nathaniel, her eyes blazing with absolute determination. "They are still alive down there, Nathaniel. Working in southern laboratories or held as trophies in human courts."
Nathaniel took Grace’s face in his large, warm hands, his gaze fierce and unwavering. "Then we are going south, Grace. Every single woman stolen from our land will be brought home."
