MATED TO THE BEAST ALPHA BROTHERS
Chapter 75: Blood always returns.

Chapter 75: Blood always returns.

"You came alone."

Zareth’s voice echoed across the hollowed battlefield...an ancient temple long buried in ash and forgotten screams.

Haelyn didn’t blink. "You’re not worth company."

He stepped down the crumbled stairs slowly, every motion deliberate. "You never learned when to quit, did you?"

She drew her blade.

Steel howled as it left its sheath. "You never learned when to shut up."

Zareth chuckled. "There she is."

His hands glowed black.

Her eyes stayed cold.

No Keres.

Just rage.

Just legacy.

Just Haelyn.

"Let’s finish what we started," she growled.

Zareth moved first...fast, no warning.

A shadow blade slammed into the ground where she’d stood a second ago. Haelyn rolled, flipped, and struck upward. Her sword nicked his ribs, but he spun, kicking her into a broken column.

"Still sharp," he hissed.

Haelyn wiped blood from her lip. "Still slow."

She surged forward.

Steel met shadows. Sparks lit the air.

Zareth sent a wave of cursed fire...she dodged, rolled, and hurled her blade. It caught him in the thigh.

He stumbled.

"Without Keres," he grunted, "you’re weaker."

Haelyn yanked her second blade from her back. "Without her, I’m free."

He lunged.

She ducked.

He swung.

She twisted, caught his arm, slammed her elbow into his throat. He gasped, staggered.

Then he grinned.

"I killed Arthur, you know," he murmured.

She didn’t flinch.

"I stabbed him myself. Took my time."

Haelyn stepped closer. "You trying to distract me?"

"No." He swung.

She blocked, then kneed him hard in the gut. "You’re trying to die faster."

Zareth growled and released a blast of pure shadow.

It hit her dead on.

Haelyn flew backward, crashed into a wall, crumpled in the dust.

He stalked forward. "Without her inside you... you’re just mortal."

She coughed, blood staining her lips.

Then she smiled.

"Good."

He froze.

She rose to her feet...bones cracked, blood dripping, eyes steady.

"Because I want you to know," she said softly, "that I beat you. Not Keres. Not prophecy. Me."

Then she charged.

Their blades met midair.

Haelyn’s foot drove into his chest. Zareth flew back, skidding across the floor. She didn’t give him a second...she was already there, raining blow after blow.

Steel. Fists. Magic.

He tried to form a sigil.

She grabbed his wrist..and snapped it.

Zareth screamed.

She drove her blade through his side.

He caught her face in one hand, shadows curling.

"Die..."

She ripped the blade out and slashed across his chest.

Blood sprayed.

He fell to his knees.

Breathing hard.

"Why... why won’t you break?"

Haelyn stood above him.

Sword raised.

Eyes clear.

"Because you made me this way."

She stabbed.

Through his heart.

He gasped.

Choked.

His hand rose slowly... trembling.

She didn’t move.

He touched her cheek.

And for the first time, his eyes widened...not from pain.

But recognition.

"...you..."

He whispered it.

"...your eyes..."

His breath hitched.

"...Lunara..."

Haelyn’s brow furrowed.

His lips trembled.

"She left... she was carrying..."

Zareth’s hand dropped.

"...my child..."

Haelyn blinked.

"What did you say?"

He smiled.

Blood leaking from his mouth.

"All these years... I thought it was Arthur’s..."

Her breath caught.

"No..."

"I hated you... wanted to destroy you..."

He laughed, weak.

"You were mine..."

Haelyn didn’t speak.

Zareth looked up at her one last time.

And whispered, "Daughter..."

Then...

The wind howled.

Three women stepped from the mist.

White. Gold. Crimson.

The Sisters of Fate.

"You took what wasn’t yours," the first hissed.

"You meddled in what must be untouched," the second echoed.

"You belong to us," the third finished.

They held out their hands.

Zareth’s body began to smoke...then burn...then rise.

"No," he whispered. "Not yet..."

Haelyn stepped back.

The Sisters smiled at her.

"No tears, child?" the one in white asked.

She didn’t answer.

"We will not take you," the gold-cloaked one said. "Not yet."

"But your time will come," said the one in red.

The air cracked.

Zareth’s body vanished into ash.

And silence fell.

Haelyn stood alone.

Her hands bloodied.

Her heart thudding.

He was gone.

And yet... something inside her cracked open.

Not grief.

Not sorrow.

Just the echo of a truth she never wanted.

"Daughter," she whispered to the wind.

Then turned.

Sword still in hand.

Haelyn didn’t move.

The air was still sizzling from where the Sisters had vanished with Zareth’s body. The ground was scorched. Her sword was slick with his blood. Her hand? Still steady.

She was shaking, but not visibly. Not outwardly.

Inside, the cracking had begun.

Artemis’s voice came first.

"...What happened here?"

She didn’t turn.

Footsteps behind her. Boots crushing ash and stone.

"Haelyn?"

Nothing.

She kept her eyes on the burned mark where the Sisters disappeared. Where he...Zareth...her father...had touched her cheek before disintegrating like he was never real to begin with.

Artemis stepped beside her, slow.

His eyes scanned the carnage, the blood, the cracks in the marble, the sword still gripped too tight in her hand.

"Where’s Zareth?" he asked.

She exhaled, finally.

"Gone."

Archer arrived next, breathless, sword drawn, shirt bloodied. "You found him?"

"No."

She turned.

"I ended him."

Archer blinked. "Where’s the body?"

Haelyn’s eyes didn’t waver. "Ask the Sisters."

Seraphis’s voice snapped across the stones as she appeared from the veil. "What did he say before he died?"

Haelyn answered without flinching.

"He called me daughter."

Silence.

Not a single word from the others.

Artemis’s brows drew tight. "...He knew?"

"Not until the end."

Archer’s mouth opened. "You’re saying...he was..."

"My father," Haelyn said. "Not Arthur. Not Cerius."

Seraphis’s mouth tightened. "He never knew?"

Haelyn’s lips barely moved. "No."

"Lunara," Seraphis muttered. "She never said a word."

Haelyn dropped the sword.

It clattered hard against the stone.

Then her voice...quiet, sharp. "I fought him three times. Hunted him. Hated him. All while his blood ran through my veins."

She looked up.

"And I still didn’t hesitate."

Archer stepped forward. "Haelyn..."

"Don’t," she warned.

He stopped.

She shook her head slowly. "Don’t say it. Don’t offer sympathy. Don’t try to comfort me."

"I’m not," he said quietly. "I’m standing with you."

She clenched her jaw. "I don’t need..."

"You do," he cut in. "Just not today."

They stared at each other.

Until Seraphis moved between them, examining the altar.

"There’s something wrong."

Artemis raised a brow. "You think?"

"No," Seraphis snapped. "Something still lingers. A residue. Look..."

She placed her palm against the scorched stone.

A pulse flared from the surface.

Haelyn flinched.

Ezra’s scream echoed across the valley.

Archer spun. "He’s not here!"

Seraphis’s eyes widened. "It’s not physical. The mark... it’s reacting."

"To what?" Artemis asked.

"To him."

Haelyn’s spine straightened. "Ezra?"

Seraphis nodded. "Zareth’s blood didn’t die with him."

Archer’s fists clenched. "You’re saying what he left behind is still alive."

"Inside Ezra."

Haelyn didn’t blink. "No."

Artemis stepped forward. "We sealed the tether."

"That was a curse," Seraphis said. "Not blood. This is different. This is inheritance."

Haelyn shook her head. "I’ll cleanse him again. I’ll drain it out of him if I have to."

"It’s not a wound, Haelyn!" Seraphis shouted. "It’s who he is."

Silence.

Haelyn turned away.

And whispered, "Then he’ll have to choose."

Archer looked up. "What?"

"When the time comes," she said, "he’ll have to choose which blood defines him."

Seraphis’s voice was quiet now. "He’s just a child."

Haelyn’s voice cracked...but her spine held straight.

"So was I."

Later that night...

The fire was low. Ezra stirred restlessly in his sleep. The room was still.

Haelyn stood outside the cave, face tilted to the stars.

Archer approached behind her.

"You didn’t kill him because of who he was."

"I killed him because of what he did," she said.

Archer paused. "But now..."

She turned to him. "Now I carry his blood. His war. His name."

"You don’t have to carry it alone."

Haelyn’s jaw trembled...but she nodded.

Then, softly, "Ezra’s going to ask. Someday."

Archer exhaled. "What will you say?"

She looked at the horizon, her voice like iron.

"I’ll say I buried my father with my own hands...and I’d do it again."

Far away...

Under the hollowed mountains...

A single flame lit itself on Zareth’s old throne.

And the ash whispered:

Blood always returns.