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# THEY SENT THE “WOLFLESS” HALF-BLOOD TO DIE—THEN THE ALPHA KING GROWLED, “SHE’S MY MATE.” / Chapter 12 / 15

Chapter 12 - The Prisoner of the Deep Vault

A figure stepped forward into the dim, flickering torchlight, blinking against the brightness.

It was an old man, dressed in tattered royal historian robes that had long lost their color. His hair was long and wild, his wrists and ankles bound by heavy, non-magical iron chains that dragged against the floor. Yet, despite his frail appearance, his eyes burned with a startling, familiar intelligence.

Eloin gasped, stepping out from behind Cassian. "Who are you?"

The old man stared at her, his lips trembling. He looked past Eloin to the silver markings that traced their faint, glowing paths along her collarbone. A choked sob broke from his throat, and he dropped heavily to his knees.

"My... my Queen," the old man rasped, his voice rough from decades of disuse. "The blood... I would recognize the light of the First Eclipse anywhere."

Cassian didn't lower his guard. "Explain yourself before I take your head. Who put you in this forgotten cell?"

"Traitors," the old man whispered, raising his head to reveal a jagged scar running across his throat. "Lord Viktor and the council elders... they locked me away twenty years ago when I tried to hide the true heir of the Eclipse dynasty. I am Master Alistair, the royal archivist."

Eloin’s breath caught in her throat. Twenty years ago. That was when her mother had fled into exile, pursued by assassins, right before Eloin was born.

She rushed forward, ignoring Cassian’s cautious warning, and knelt beside the elderly historian. She reached out and touched his trembling, chained hands.

"My mother..." Eloin’s voice shook. "Did you know Princess Lyra?"

Alistair’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at her. "She was my dearest pupil, Your Majesty. She sacrificed everything to smuggle you out of the Citadel before the usurpers could slaughter you in your cradle. She carried you into the human lands to hide your scent behind the veil of a half-blood."

"A half-blood," Eloin repeated bitterly, remembering the years of abuse at Silverpine Orphanage, the lye soap, and Delphine’s cruel boots. "They made me believe I was broken."

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"You were never broken, child," Alistair said fiercely, gripping her hands. "You were hidden. And now that you have awakened, the true enemies of the crown know that their time is running out."

Cassian stepped forward, his expression dark and thunderous as the full implications of the archivist's words settled over him. "If Alistair was imprisoned here, it means the council’s corruption runs deeper than the northern lords. There are traitors sitting right inside our own court."

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