MARKED FOR PRETEND - Chapter 30: Chapter 30
You are reading MARKED FOR PRETEND, Chapter 30: Chapter 30. Read more chapters of MARKED FOR PRETEND.
Chelsea's pov( interludes from distant enemies)
The morning after never came softly. It didn’t drift in on a whisper or land with light.
It roared.
Chelsea woke, breathless. Her lungs didn’t heave—they drank in air like she’d never needed it before. Like every inhale was ancient, borrowed from something older than time. but she wasn’t the same girl who had curled up under a blanket the night before.
Her skin didn’t hum anymore—it burned with knowing. Her hearing was sharper, it rang with sound she hadn’t noticed yesterday—wings fluttering, distant voices, hearts beating two doors down.Her breath lighter. Her bones didn’t ache—they thrummed.
And when she walked to the mirror—
The mark was no longer glowing.
It had branched.
It looked like a vine of gold trailing along her forearm, curling into her shoulder like the roots of a tree—alive, ancient, divine.
But it wasn’t just her arm.
Her eyes?
Not brown. Not even close.
The mirror showed her something fierce. Something white, something ancient.
They were light. Moonlight. Firelight. A wild gold ringed with silver and something that shimmered like starlight.
The girl who stared back from the mirror was no longer hiding.
She wasn’t just a wolf.
She wasn’t just a witch.
She was something the world had tried to bury.
And it had failed.
⸻
Somewhere in the North – The Ruined Council
The ruined throne room echoed with murmurs. A figure stepped out from the shadows, into the ruined throne room lit by floating shards of magic.
“It’s her,” said the High Priest of the Broken Flame, his voice like cracking parchment.
“The white wolf breathes again.”
Another scoffed, old and tired.
“We killed them all. "We made sure of it.”
“Not all,” a younger voice cut in, sharp as glass.“One was hidden.”Shielded in shadows.”
They gathered around the flame that no longer burned and watched it flicker to life for the first time in twenty years.
A roar of light white, blinding, alive.
The Golden Bloodline has awakened.
And with it—the war would begin again.
⸻
Back in Duskveil
Chelsea stepped out of her room and paused.
Silence.
But not empty.
Because the silence was charged, the air felt heavier. Everyone in the packhouse felt it. The cooks, the maids, the guards. They also felt something in their bones. Their wolves paced, restless. Their breaths shallow. Something had shifted—and every wolf knew it.
Chelsea took a single step. Then another.
And that’s when she saw him.
At the far end of the hall, he waited.
Not just Kaden.
Kael looked through his eyes—gold rimmed, sharper than steel, softer than sin.
Chelsea moved toward him slowly, heart a war drum in her chest. Her fingers clenched at her sides.
They didn’t speak. Not at first.
But as she passed him, his hand reached out.
Gentle. Warm. Claiming.
Fingers closed around her wrist, slow as sunrise. She stilled.
“You were always mine,” Kael murmured through Kaden’s lips, voice velvet and shadow. “You just didn’t remember it yet.”
⸻
Meanwhile, Across the Border… A temple deep in ice cracked open at its center.
In the desert, flames lit without fire. In the cursed woods, shadows whispered.
The girl has awakened.
Rogues. Exiles. Warlocks. Queens in blackened thrones. Those who had waited—they felt the ripple. It wasn’t just a flare of magic. It was a summoning, not magic, but a call.
They did not need to see her.They felt her.
And now?
Now the world wanted to claim her.
Some for her blood.
Some for her power.
Some… to use her as a crown.
Some would want to use her—make her the blade that conquers nations. The crown that silences all other kings.
⸻
Back in her chambers, Chelsea sat with her journal open. The pages trembled as wind swept through the room—but the windows were closed.
She wanted to write.
To understand.
To breathe it out.
She couldn’t.
The pen hovered. Her hands shook.
Not from fear.
From purpose.
The witch had once told her, “Your birthday isn’t just a day, child. It’s a door. And someday, it will open.”
Chelsea thought that door meant death. The fire. The grief. The night the cottage burned and everything was taken.
But now?
Now the door had opened, and behind it wasn’t grief.
It was power.
It was fate.
And far beyond the trees, in castles and cursed lands, the world stirred to life.
Some wanted to worship her.
Others wanted to destroy her.
But the most dangerous of all…
Were the ones who wanted to own her.
The morning after never came softly. It didn’t drift in on a whisper or land with light.
It roared.
Chelsea woke, breathless. Her lungs didn’t heave—they drank in air like she’d never needed it before. Like every inhale was ancient, borrowed from something older than time. but she wasn’t the same girl who had curled up under a blanket the night before.
Her skin didn’t hum anymore—it burned with knowing. Her hearing was sharper, it rang with sound she hadn’t noticed yesterday—wings fluttering, distant voices, hearts beating two doors down.Her breath lighter. Her bones didn’t ache—they thrummed.
And when she walked to the mirror—
The mark was no longer glowing.
It had branched.
It looked like a vine of gold trailing along her forearm, curling into her shoulder like the roots of a tree—alive, ancient, divine.
But it wasn’t just her arm.
Her eyes?
Not brown. Not even close.
The mirror showed her something fierce. Something white, something ancient.
They were light. Moonlight. Firelight. A wild gold ringed with silver and something that shimmered like starlight.
The girl who stared back from the mirror was no longer hiding.
She wasn’t just a wolf.
She wasn’t just a witch.
She was something the world had tried to bury.
And it had failed.
⸻
Somewhere in the North – The Ruined Council
The ruined throne room echoed with murmurs. A figure stepped out from the shadows, into the ruined throne room lit by floating shards of magic.
“It’s her,” said the High Priest of the Broken Flame, his voice like cracking parchment.
“The white wolf breathes again.”
Another scoffed, old and tired.
“We killed them all. "We made sure of it.”
“Not all,” a younger voice cut in, sharp as glass.“One was hidden.”Shielded in shadows.”
They gathered around the flame that no longer burned and watched it flicker to life for the first time in twenty years.
A roar of light white, blinding, alive.
The Golden Bloodline has awakened.
And with it—the war would begin again.
⸻
Back in Duskveil
Chelsea stepped out of her room and paused.
Silence.
But not empty.
Because the silence was charged, the air felt heavier. Everyone in the packhouse felt it. The cooks, the maids, the guards. They also felt something in their bones. Their wolves paced, restless. Their breaths shallow. Something had shifted—and every wolf knew it.
Chelsea took a single step. Then another.
And that’s when she saw him.
At the far end of the hall, he waited.
Not just Kaden.
Kael looked through his eyes—gold rimmed, sharper than steel, softer than sin.
Chelsea moved toward him slowly, heart a war drum in her chest. Her fingers clenched at her sides.
They didn’t speak. Not at first.
But as she passed him, his hand reached out.
Gentle. Warm. Claiming.
Fingers closed around her wrist, slow as sunrise. She stilled.
“You were always mine,” Kael murmured through Kaden’s lips, voice velvet and shadow. “You just didn’t remember it yet.”
⸻
Meanwhile, Across the Border… A temple deep in ice cracked open at its center.
In the desert, flames lit without fire. In the cursed woods, shadows whispered.
The girl has awakened.
Rogues. Exiles. Warlocks. Queens in blackened thrones. Those who had waited—they felt the ripple. It wasn’t just a flare of magic. It was a summoning, not magic, but a call.
They did not need to see her.They felt her.
And now?
Now the world wanted to claim her.
Some for her blood.
Some for her power.
Some… to use her as a crown.
Some would want to use her—make her the blade that conquers nations. The crown that silences all other kings.
⸻
Back in her chambers, Chelsea sat with her journal open. The pages trembled as wind swept through the room—but the windows were closed.
She wanted to write.
To understand.
To breathe it out.
She couldn’t.
The pen hovered. Her hands shook.
Not from fear.
From purpose.
The witch had once told her, “Your birthday isn’t just a day, child. It’s a door. And someday, it will open.”
Chelsea thought that door meant death. The fire. The grief. The night the cottage burned and everything was taken.
But now?
Now the door had opened, and behind it wasn’t grief.
It was power.
It was fate.
And far beyond the trees, in castles and cursed lands, the world stirred to life.
Some wanted to worship her.
Others wanted to destroy her.
But the most dangerous of all…
Were the ones who wanted to own her.
End of MARKED FOR PRETEND Chapter 30. Continue reading Chapter 31 or return to MARKED FOR PRETEND book page.