Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The training grounds were a mess, dust swirling like ghosts over the sprawled warriors, Adolph’s threats still ringing in the air. Nova’s chest was tight, James’s question—“Could it be… for me?”—stuck in her head like a splinter. His cocky grin, the way he leaned into every word, made her want to grab him and demand answers. But Isabella’s voice, steady as a drumbeat, cut through the haze, pulling all eyes to her.“James,” Isabella said, her gaze sharp as a blade, “you’re one of the candidates for the reincarnated child of Light, named in the prophecy.” Her words hit like a thunderclap, heavy with meaning, and Nova felt the air thicken, as if the world itself was listening. James went still, his smirk faltering for a split second before he threw his head back and laughed—a loud, rough bark that scraped Nova’s nerves raw.

“That’s pure nonsense!” he said, swiping at his eyes like he’d heard a barroom yarn. “Me? Some Chosen One from a fairy tale? You’re off your rocker, lady.” His voice dripped with swagger, but there was a twitch in his jaw, like he was daring her to keep going.Isabella’s face stayed calm, but her eyes narrowed, a flicker of exasperation breaking through.

She took a slow breath, her voice low and clipped. “The prophecy warns of the Dark God breaking his seal, rising to burn the world to ash,” she said, each word deliberate, like she was etching it into stone. “The Child of Light is our only shot to stop him. This isn’t a joke, James.”James scoffed, crossing his arms, his torn shirt flapping in the breeze. “Look, I respect you Elemental Master? alright? You’ve got some wild tricks,” he said, jerking his chin at the scattered warriors.

“But this prophecy is baloney? I am not buying it. My dream’s to create my own wolf pack, run things my way. I don’t care about the other races or some world-saving drivel.” He leaned in, his grin sharp as a knife. “You’ve got the wrong guy. Why don’t you take Princess Nova and go play savior somewhere else?

Nova’s blood ran hot, her hands balling into fists. She’d been staring at him this whole time—his smug face, his broad shoulders, the way he strutted like he owned the dirt under his boots. His arrogance, his selfish dismissal, his pigheaded ignorance—it set her teeth on edge. He was laughing off the prophecy, the very thing that had upended her life, the thing that scared her to her bones.

Before she could think, she marched forward, her hand flying up and cracking across his face with a slap that rang out like a snapped branch. “This is real!” she snapped, her voice shaking with rage, her palm burning from the hit. Her chest heaved as she glared into his stunned eyes, daring him to smirk again. James blinked, a red mark blooming on his cheek. For a moment, he just stared, like she’d knocked something loose in him. His cocky mask was gone, replaced by a raw, searching look that made Nova’s skin prickle. She glared back, her anger still a live wire, but then—something changed.

A sweet, strange scent curled into her nose, warm and sharp, like crushed herbs mixed with the crisp tang of apple and the slow drip of honey. It was coming from him. Her heart lurched, then pounded like a war drum, her skin tingling as the scent sank into her. James’s eyes widened, his breath catching. He leaned closer, almost without thinking, and Nova saw his nostrils flare.

He was smelling something too, his gaze sharpening, pinning her where she stood. “Mate,” he said, the word slipping out low and gravelly, like it had been dragged from somewhere deep. Nova’s stomach plummeted, the ground tilting under her. She knew what “mate” meant in the werewolf world—the fated bond, the kind wolves would kill for, die for. Her mind spun, panic clawing up her throat.

This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not with him. But that scent—jasmine, lavender, roses—bloomed around her now, rising from her own skin, tying her to him like a curse. Isabella’s voice sliced through, sharp and urgent. “Enough,” she said, stepping between them, her eyes flicking from Nova to James. “This doesn’t change the prophecy. We’re out of time.” Her tone was iron, but there was a shadow of worry in her gaze, like this was a twist she hadn’t expected. Adolph, still slumped in the dirt, let out a wheezing laugh, hauling himself to his knees. “Mates, huh?” he croaked, his voice thick with mockery.

“A human and a traitor? Oh, this is rich.” His warriors, staggering to their feet, snickered, their glares promising blood. Nova barely registered them, her head a whirlwind. James’s scent was still there, tugging at her, and she hated how it made her feel—knotted up, alive, terrified.

She forced herself to meet his eyes, his face a mix of shock and something softer, something that shook her more than his arrogance ever could. The prophecy, the Dark God, and now this mate nonsense? It was a weight she couldn’t carry, crushing her bit by bit. Isabella grabbed Nova’s arm, her grip firm but kind. “Stay sharp, Princess Nova,” she muttered, just for her ears.

“We need to move, now.” Nova nodded, but her gaze kept slipping to James, her pulse still wild, that scent clinging like a shadow. James took a step closer, his usual bravado stripped away, replaced by a raw intensity that made her breath hitch. He opened his mouth, then shut it, like the words were too big to fit. The training grounds felt too small, the air too thick, as if the prophecy itself was pressing down on them. Nova’s skin buzzed, her mind screaming at her to run, to fight, to make this stop. She looked at James in horror and exclaimed, “James, you must be mistaken because it’s impossible! I’m human, I can’t be a wolf’s mate! I can

never be your mate.”