The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate-Chapter 148: Crown Said Mine. Sword Said BET.

Serena’s instincts took over. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Sparkling magic erupted from her palm, nothing like the gold she was used to.

It wrapped around the blade in midair, stopping it three inches from her chest. Three inches. So close that she could feel heat radiating from the dark magic. And what stood between her and death looked like it belonged at a six-year-old’s birthday party.

Then it fell to the ground with a clatter, still trapped in its shimmering cocoon.

Serena felt Fin’s terror through their matebond. Raw, unfiltered, the kind of fear that belongs to a man who would burn a fortress to its foundation before he watched a blade touch her.

The High General stared at it. Then his eyes flicked to Serena.

His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief and landed on what looked suspiciously like professional embarrassment at being thwarted by glitter.

"You are Fae then, aren’t you."

It wasn’t a question.

He snatched another blade from his belt and launched it, moving with a lethal speed that no Fae should possess.

But this blade was different.

Serena heard it humming as it flew towards her. She felt drawn to it, pulled by something instinctive that recognized the weapon even though she had never seen it before.

She moved at alpha speed without thought, blurring sideways, and spun with the momentum.

The blade grazed the air where her chest had been. Mid-spin, her hand shot out, fingers closing around the hilt as it flew past. She pulled the weapon into her rotation so smoothly, it looked like she’d choreographed it.

She hadn’t. She’d never done anything remotely like it before. And she had no idea how she did it. But it looked incredible.

Fin, still on his knees, had gone completely rigid. He watched with the expression of a man who had accepted that his mate was going to give him a heart attack on a regular basis and this was his new normal.

Hyran and Aeron both observed with detached analytical interest, for an entirely different reason. Her Alpha speed should not have been possible. The dampening wards suppressed all wolf abilities. Neither had an explanation.

As soon as her fingers closed around the hilt, pink light detonated outward from her body. Every torch in the room blew out and for a few heartbeats, the only light in the fortress came from her.

Then the throne room ignited. Ancient script blazed across the walls and ceiling. Older than anything Serena had ever seen. It reminded her of Draken-Vorah, but woven with a second script forming something new. Something that had been waiting for her.

Aeron’s mouth fell open. He leaned forward against his cuffs, craning his neck to study the script on the ceiling, completely forgetting where he was and what was happening.

Hyran elbowed him so hard Aeron’s chains rattled.

Aeron looked at him. His face said, Two scripts woven into one. The one you pretend I don’t know about, and something older.

Hyran shot him a look right back that said, I know. This changes everything we thought we knew about pre-Orosian language. But we are currently hostages in goddamn chains.

Then both of their gazes snapped back to Serena, because why would it stop there.

A crown vibrated into existence on Serena’s head, forming from pure light.

It was the crown from the vault. She knew the feel of it.

Its white-hot edges seared against her skin before cooling.

The weight of it pressed into her skull like a brand. Like the mark of something that was choosing her, claiming her, refusing to be refused. And Serena understood with sudden, absolute certainty that it was part of her.

The sword in her hand blazed brighter, matching the intensity of her crown.

Every single person in the throne room, from the guards to the prisoners to the High General himself, stared at her in stunned silence.

Serena took advantage of this and began to push her pink magic through the threads she was already channeling flame into. It felt about as unnatural as it did the first time she did that with her gold magic. It was slow, but it went.

Fin’s body glowed first, and the King of North Skardos, bloodied and beaten and chained in an enemy fortress, was now sparkling pink. He did not comment on this.

Hyran was next. He glanced down at the glow covering his body. His face displayed the particular disdain of an intellectual forced to accept that sparkle magic might just save his life.

It began to flow easier after each person, picking up momentum.

From the dungeons below, Hale looked at his massive, glowing pink arms. Then he said, "No."

’No’ was not going to change the situation. He said it again anyway.

Gav looked down at his body. Then he looked up at the ceiling. "Serena. If you can hear me through whatever magical shenanigans this is, I want you to know that when I retell this story, I am saying gold."

The dungeon was moving now. Men rising. Chains falling. Pink light reflecting off wet stone.

Then they heard a guard coming. All twelve immediately went back to where they were. Hale chained on the wall. Gav sitting with cuffs. Archibald snoring, pretending to be asleep.

Aeron was the last person to feel the pink magic. The ache in his bruised ribs began fading. He was not connected to Serena through a thread. But he was in the throne room with her, and she was able to push it to him.

The High General took a step towards Serena, drawing yet another blade from his belt.

Serena immediately pushed flame into the sword she was holding. Behind her, a blade materialized in Elara’s hand, flame included.

He froze.

Elara looked down at herself, then at the back of Serena’s head, and her expression was the face of a woman who had already decided she was telling this story at every dinner for the rest of her life.

Serena was acutely aware that she had no idea what to do next.

She was standing in a room full of enemies, holding a sword that was on fire, and all of her friends were glowing pink.

No plan. No exit strategy. Totally fine.

This was either the most triumphant moment of her life or the most absurd.

The sword continued to burn in her grip. She willed her hand not to shake. It shook anyway, but the fire disguised it, and she was grateful for that small mercy.

"Alright," he said. "You have my attention."

He sheathed the blade at his hip and spread his hands, a gesture that might have been surrender or might have been invitation.

"Stand down," he ordered his guards.

"State your terms."