Transmigrated: The Lycan King's Pet
Chapter 81 A Glimpse into the Past

Chapter 81: Chapter 81 A Glimpse into the Past

"Her own good?" Alaric wanted to roll his eyes at him.

"The rogues have been stalking around our territory for so long as if they are waiting for something... or rather, someone," Damon said, his brows knitting together.

"And you believe that someone is Ember, because of the attack in the flooded village?"

"Yes. Before I saved her, the rogues were about to mark her." He clicked his tongue again in distaste, his eyes darkened. Chilling auras spread from him.

"Damon, you are suffocating me with your oh almighty aura." Alaric grunted.

Damon inhaled deeply, controlling his sudden outburst. "I’m doing this to confirm it, and of course to exterminate all the rogues. If I don’t do this, she will never be safe. And I also want to know who is behind the rogues. They are behaving too organized and sensible for rogues."

"In other words, an alpha must have taken them into his pack. That is why they have been stalking—because their alpha wants them to. But why would the rogues try to mark her if they act under an alpha?" Alaric opened the door to Damon’s study room.

"There are a lot of possible reasons. Maybe they are not truly loyal to the alpha, or it could be they were acting on instinct and don’t know exactly why they are hunting her." Damon entered the room, his hands crossed behind his back.

"I understand that you mean well. But I’m afraid she might misunderstand you. If we can get exactly why the rogues are stalking around our territory, then we will be one step closer to solving this mystery." Alaric sat on the chair across the brown polished table, which was stacked with countless paperwork.

"Yes, exactly. If they don’t react to her, then I’ll know they are here possibly for war." Damon grabbed the bottle of wine from the shelf. He corked it open, pouring the wine into two glasses. He gracefully placed the bottle on the table before handing one glass to Alaric.

"Thank you," Alaric muttered before taking a sip of the wine. "Don’t worry, I’ll get the best guards to watch over her." The clanking of his glass of wine on the table echoed through the quiet room.

Damon smirked. "I’ll go with her. You don’t expect me to entrust my pets to those guards." He brought the glass of wine to his mouth, taking a small sip. He brought it down close to the table, twirling the liquid in the glass cup.

Alaric sighed dramatically. "Let’s hope she’s grateful for that."

...

(Ember POV)

’I knew Damon never had good thoughts about me. But his actions reminded me why I had feared him in the first place. Now I’m going to be thrown into the den of wolves.’ I rested my back lazily on the couch.

I didn’t even know when I fell asleep. One moment I was staring quietly at the flames dancing in the fireplace, and the next, I found myself standing in the middle of something that didn’t feel like a dream at all. It felt real, too real—like a forgotten memory buried deep in my bones.

There was chaos everywhere. Werewolves moved like shadows through the battlefield, their fangs and claws tearing through witches in a blur of blood and fury. Spells lit up the sky, clashing with snarls and screams. The air smelled like smoke and death, thick enough to choke on.

Above all of it, the faes hovered in the sky with their glowing wings spread wide. Their movements were calm and elegant, completely different from the savage violence on the ground. Even in the middle of war, they looked beautiful—too beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off their wings, soft and translucent like painted glass. They looked out of place in the middle of so much destruction.

I kept staring, frozen in place, until something changed. The noise faded. The sky dimmed. The battlefield had gone silent, like a movie fast-forwarded to the end.

Bodies covered the ground like fallen branches after a storm. Everything was still. And then I saw a single massive white wolf standing alone in the middle of the field. Its fur was soaked in blood, yet its presence still felt pure. It didn’t move. It just stood there and raised its head to the sky.

Then it howled.

A long, broken cry that echoed through the silence. It wasn’t just a howl of grief. It was the kind of sound that reached deep into your chest and squeezed your heart until it hurt. It was the sound of something lost—something important and sacred. I felt a lump rise in my throat and a pain I couldn’t explain wash over me.

And then everything disappeared.

I shot up suddenly, gasping for breath as if I had been pulled out from underwater. My whole body was tense, drenched in sweat. I blinked and looked around in panic, unsure of where I was, until I saw Damon kneeling beside me, his hand gently shaking my shoulder.

"Ember," he said, his voice low and steady, but I could hear the concern underneath.

I couldn’t stop myself. Without thinking, I reached for him and wrapped my arms around him tightly. I pressed my face into his chest and held on like I’d fall apart if I let go. The tears came all at once, hot and fast, spilling down my cheeks and soaking into his shirt. I didn’t know why I was crying so hard. Maybe it was the howl. Maybe it was the loneliness on that battlefield. Or maybe it was because something inside me recognized that place.

I whispered, "I’m sorry," not even sure what I meant by it.

He didn’t move right away. At first, I thought he would pull away. But instead, he placed one hand on the back of my head and stayed quiet. He didn’t ask what I saw. He just let me stay there, and for some reason, that made it easier to breathe again.