CHAPTER 65: CHAPTER 65: THE CLIFF AND THE COVENANT

Selene stared at it for a long moment, then slowly traced her fingers over it.

She could have removed it easily. After everything she’d learned about her abilities, erasing this mark would have been a simple task. But she hadn’t. She chose to keep it—not out of helplessness, but because it reminded her of what she had survived. It was her motivation. A reminder of her promise: she would never let anyone control her life again.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed with memories from a year ago... the day fate had given her a new life.

A cursed day, yet also a day of awakening. The day she had tried to escape that place. Escape the pack that had made her life hell. She had been just inches away from completely losing herself. Running was her only option.

And that was the day she discovered the truth—she wasn’t even a werewolf.

She had never known who her father was. She’d assumed he must have been a wolf, at least. But that day shattered that illusion. He wasn’t. And as for her mother... Selene had always known she wasn’t a she-wolf, though the woman never once revealed her true race.

It was also the day she learned something far worse: she was fated to be the mate of the very monsters who had ruined her life. The ones who had treated her worse than animals. When they discovered she was their mate, they changed—suddenly acting like she was the one at fault, like she had wronged them.

Selene’s eyes grew misty, but there was a coldness in them now. A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

She had been too naïve back then. But now? Now she knew the truth.

She had seen what those werewolves truly were—beasts driven by madness and dominance. Not a single one of them was sane. Not a single one deserved forgiveness. All of them were monsters in disguise, bastards hiding behind a twisted sense of honor and power.

But she... she wasn’t like them.

She didn’t have the kind of twisted heart that would let her accept abuse and call it love. She wasn’t some pathetic fool who’d crawl back to her abusers, clinging to a bond that meant nothing but pain. She wasn’t a bitch desperate for affection at the cost of her dignity.

No.

That day, she never looked back. Not once.

Even when she jumped from the cliff, knowing full well it might kill her.

Even when the mate bond tormented her mind, trying to pull her back to them, torturing her endlessly.

She chose the pain of breaking free over the humiliation of submission.

Then, a shiver ran down her spine as another thought crashed into her: what if he hadn’t saved her that day?

She would have still been tied to them, still living under their thumb. And they wouldn’t have cared whether she was happy or not. All they had ever wanted was dominance and control. Her life wouldn’t have been any better—perhaps the setting would have changed, but she would have eventually lost herself completely.

But someone had saved her.

To this day, she didn’t know who. He had refused to step forward. But Selene had her suspicions, a quiet certainty in her heart. One day, she would repay him.

It had all started when she found that silver dagger just outside the Alpha’s quarters. Someone had planted it for her. Someone had been helping her all along. Someone who had gone so far as to orchestrate an entire rogue attack—just to make sure the DuskDraven Alpha couldn’t track her escape.

Yes, it was true.

The rogue attack had been a ploy. She had no idea at the time. She thought she was going to die when that "rogue" jumped from the cliff with her.

But when she woke up, unconscious and hidden far from the pack, she learned the truth: someone had helped her escape.

And the rogue who had jumped with her?

He wasn’t a rogue at all.

He was a regular werewolf—probably a subordinate of the man who orchestrated the entire escape. But the witches had cloaked him, concealed his aura in illusion and scent, using old spells to make him seem like a rogue on the edge of madness. It had to be believable. If the Dusk Draven sensed even the faintest trace of betrayal, the whole plan would’ve collapsed before it began.

Selene had blacked out mid-fall, lungs burning, the world fading to static as wind screamed past her ears. She expected death and honestly welcomed it.

But she woke up somewhere else.

Not in water. Not on rock. But in a very different environment.

The witches had brought her there.

At first, they didn’t know who she was. To them, she was just a girl barely alive, brought by the man who was there benefactor to heal her. Another victim of the wolves’ cruelty. They had no reason to care—until they tried to heal her.

The old witch herself had leaned over Selene’s unconscious body, her hand making small runes, ready to mend what she could. But the moment her fingers touched Selene’s skin...

She jerked back.

Eyes wide. Mouth parting in disbelief.

"That’s not—" she’d whispered.

The magic had flared violently the moment contact was made—responding instinctively, rushing toward Selene like a river returning to its source.

"She carries the Old Blood," the old witch mutters with a stunned expression.

"No," the other witch said slowly, her voice reverent. "Not just Old Blood... pure."

A silence fell across the chamber.

Pure-blooded witches were legend. Bloodlines that had never been diluted by humans or other supernatural races. Most had died out generations ago—wiped out by wolves, hunted by fearful humans, or scattered so far their power simply faded.

To find one now? In this era? And alive?

It was impossible.

And yet, Selene lay there with a bruised body.

The coven changed after that.

She wasn’t treated like a stranger anymore. She was watched with awe, like some long-lost heir returned from death. Rituals were held in her honor. Her name was entered in the ancestral tomes, though she had no knowledge of her family line.

Selene had felt overwhelmed—then angry.

She didn’t care for titles. She didn’t want power. All she’d wanted was freedom.

But the truth couldn’t be ignored anymore. Her mother hadn’t just hidden her from the wolves. She had hidden her from everyone, even her own kind.