The Alpha's Blind Fate-Chapter 446: Last Meetings

ZINA

When Daemon begrudgingly finally left her that morning for the council meeting, Zina stared at the reflection of herself in the mirror.

The woman that stared back at her was nothing like the woman who spent a year mourning her mother at the temple. This woman looked... alive. Eyes filled and brimming with so much happiness and fulfillment.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Who would have known that after facing so much turmoil, the final missing puzzle piece in her life would fall back in place and fit so damn perfectly.

Even if she were to die right then and there, she would have no regrets.

But she wasn’t going to die. Not anytime soon. After two brushes with death, it was fair to say that she had no desire to go looking for the third child of trouble.

She would try to live a long life alongside Daemon and prove to him that he was more than worthy to receive the same love he showered her so selflessly.

A knock sounded on the door, and Seraph entered, her brown eyes filled with child-like excitement. "I have come to help you dress. Surely the Luna Queen of the North is ready to assume her duties? I must tell you that your subjects have missed you so."

Zina smiled. "Is that so?"

"Of course! And I am going to assume those tears of yours are only happy tears." Seraph continued in a chirpy voice. "After all, rumours within the walls have it that today marks the first time the Alpha King didn’t wear a frown that reached the gates of hell. More daring rumours suggested to have seen him smiling—albeit discreetly."

"Not discreetly enough if you’re already catching wind of gossip on the very first day you resume work." She quipped back, wiping her tears away.

Seraph giggled. "I am merely trying to be good at my job lest another steals my position as your handmaiden."

"No one can ever steal your position as my handmaiden."

Seraph suddenly stopped smiling, tears welling in her eyes. "I know. I...I am just happy to see you happy again."

Zina walked to her, gripping her shoulders as a wave of memories hit her while burying her in a melancholic mood. "Do you remember the first day we met, Seraph?"

She nodded furtively. "You had just entered the palace on the invitation of the former Alpha King and Beta Morim and I was asked to welcome you."

Zina chuckled. "True. That was more than seven years ago. And now, it seems like a whole lifetime behind us. That day, you were so scared of me, and yet you audaciously asked if you could wash my eyes. Because you believed washing the eyes of a seer would bring you blessings."

Seraph nodded wordlessly, tears still staining her cheeks.

Zina shook her head. "The truth is, even though I acted otherwise, I was more scared than you were. I was plucked from such a small world where I begged for scraps of love into a huge world where I was demanded to lie against an innocent man. So yes, I was so scared. But do you know what that day, and every other day that followed it has taught me?"

"What did it teach you, your majesty?" Seraph asked softly.

"They taught me that fear dies the moment when you face it. It is only not yet confronted that has the power to wound us. Which is why I must face my final fear, Seraph."

Seraph was silent for the longest time, contemplating her true meaning of her words. And when she realized what she meant, her eyes widened. "You mean to visit Ronan and his Master?"

"I do." she answered.

Seraph swallowed, but then squared her shoulders. "What do you need me to do, your majesty."

"Help me dress, then get me Fionna."

And that was what they did. Once Seraph helped her freshen up and dress, she dashed out of the room to find Fionna. Five minutes later, the duo were back.

"Seraph tells me that you wish to visit those two." Fionna says with a dismissive shrug. "However I must warn you that there’s absolutely nothing pleasant about how they now look."

"All the better."

That was how they started their journey to the lowest of basements in the palace. To a floor so desolate only the sounds of squeaking rats were heard.

It was like stepping out of light into darkness.

Like stepping out of beauty into ruin. Because to live in such a dark, dank place was like the feeling of dying yet death never came.

Using a lone lantern, Fionna led her to the entrance of a hollow but large prison. Besides the putrid smell like burning flesh that came out of it, one thing that caught Zina’s attention was the water, at least a foot tall, that occupied the inside and yet strangely did not spill outside.

It was obvious that there was nothing simple about the water, but her attention was immediately stolen by the sight of two hulking figures each chained meters apart in a manner that they faced and watched each other.

It was hard to discern who was Master and who was Rowan, and as if they sensed her presence, they weakly started to struggle in their chains and the only result was a sharp burning by the silver that filled her lungs with acid.

On a closer look, Zina noticed that both their heads were shaved, both their legs completely amputated, and both so lean it was as if Daemon had taken extra steps to make sure that Rowan looked everything like the man he served all his life.

She found she had nothing to say to them. Not when after one year of careful torture it seemed that their ability to speak had been stolen from them.

All her hate for them, all her vengeance, all her fear all melted somewhere she could no longer reach it. Perhaps to someone facing a future filled with hope, there was no such thing as the notion of vengeance.

She sucked in a shaky deep breath, remembering her mother and the daughter she lost. Ingraining them into her mind for that moment—then she smirked.

"You’ve done so much to rule the world, yet you forget that the world was never quite yours for the taking."

One of them struggled to speak, only muffled sounds coming from him. But it was Rowan who surprisingly managed to say words that felt like stone grating against sand.

"Da...emon, won th...is round."

She scoffed. "And he will win the next. And the one after it. And the one that follows it. In your foolishness you thought my story started the night I was born in your captivity. Forgetting it actually started the night I told the false prophecy against Daemon. From that night, he was already set to win; and now, you’ve merely quickened the process."

"D...o you think his wolf is enough to ru..le the world?!" He snapped sarcastically, chuckling.

Zina smiled slowly. "That is where you’ve got it wrong. Unlike you, he will never reach for what was never his. But when he unites the North as one, the rest of the world will naturally bow to him."

Rowan’s body slacked. Like a man long defeated yet held onto a slick of pride that had now slipped away from him.

"He is the Great Be...ast Wolf. But if not now, sometime in the future no matter how far, the North will still fall!" He cackled like a mad man. "Your descendants will inherit your curse as the abandoned one, and one day, they too will fall!"

"How mad is he?!" Fionna growled, reaching for the bars, "shall I rip what remains of his tongue?"

Zina smiled though, her fingers caressing her belly. "You’re wrong," she said in that voice like it was held captivity in a faraway land, "they will never fall either."

The words hung in the air like a prophecy filled with dread. And even when Zina left, feeling lighter than when she came, Rowan’s painful howl like he was grieving his loss followed her.

But she never returned back there. Not even when they eventually died and Daemon disposed of them like the thrash that they always were.

Because she had long left them behind, including their memories, as she braced a future filled with hope and great tidings.