The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate-Chapter 125: Certified Freak, Seven Languages Deep

Dex was pacing, every step keeping Aegon at bay. His jaw hadn’t unclenched since the library.

Serena would have rather not woken anyone up. She would have rather gone back to bed, pulled the covers over her head, and pretended the last two hours hadn’t happened.

Instead, she was sitting in a leather armchair in Alaric’s study at four in the morning.

Fantastic.

Gav was sprawled in the chair beside her, his shirt still torn and stiff with blood.

His wound was healed, but the shirt was a lost cause, and he was making absolutely no effort to hide the damage.

In fact, he’d been offered a clean shirt twice. He’d declined both times.

"So," Alaric said, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, "Sterling can partially perceive it as a heat distortion. Drakenfell cannot perceive it at all but witnessed physical objects moving without visible cause." He paused. "The entity is hostile, intelligent, and capable of manipulating solid matter. Have I missed anything?"

"The part where it stabbed me," Gav said.

"You’re fine."

"I had a fire poker through my stomach, Alaric."

"And now you don’t." Alaric turned to Serena. "You need to be drinking calming tonics. Every night."

Serena opened her mouth.

He raised his hand. "I’m not finished."

"I understand there’s more at play here than nightmares. Obviously. The matebond break hasn’t healed for you. You severed something at a soul level and in your case, the deepest kind."

"I know," Serena said.

"Then act like it," Alaric snapped.

"And let me be clear," he added. "Using your magic and fighting in battle does not mean you’re healed. It means adrenaline is a hell of a drug and your body hasn’t sent you the bill yet."

Serena swallowed and took a steadying breath. "Understood."

Alaric rubbed his temples. "What were you trying to accomplish tonight?" 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"I wanted to find a solution," Serena answered with a sigh. "Hence the library."

"Wandering into the restricted section of a library at three in the morning, alone, to confront something you can barely contain, is stupid. A death wish wearing boots."

"Unlaced boots," Gav added helpfully.

Serena cut him a look. He raised his hands in surrender but didn’t look sorry.

"Sterling, if your next contribution isn’t medically relevant, I’m going to sedate you," Alaric clipped.

He drew a breath, the kind a man takes when he’s trying to find patience. As if he was teaching aether fabrication to chimpanzees.

When he spoke again, his words were slow.

"The tonics will buy you stability and time. Time lets us figure out what else is going on and how to stop it. That is the order of operations. Not the other way around."

Dex stopped pacing. "So fix it."

"I just outlined how."

"No. You outlined how to manage it. I said fix it." Dex’s voice was quiet in the way that meant dangerous. "Something is in her head, Alaric. Tonics aren’t a fix. They’re a bandage on a severed artery."

Alaric held his gaze. "Which is why I called someone."

A knock sounded at the door.

Alaric crossed the room and opened it. The man standing on the other side was tall, lean, and old in the way that mages aged, which was to say his face could have belonged to someone forty or over one hundred. He wore robes of deep charcoal, and his eyes were mismatched, one a deep green, the other gold.

"Maelor, thank you for coming at this hour."

"You said it was urgent." His voice was low. "You are not a man who uses that word frivolously."

Alaric stepped aside. "Everyone, this is Maelor Vantheos, Master Mage of Nightspire."

Maelor’s gaze swept the room, landing on Serena.

He spoke in High Morbian, directed at Alaric, clearly assuming no one else in the room would understand.

"So this is the one who impressed Thornfell. And the one Nightspire wants. For a daughter-in-law or mistress. No one is certain."

Heat crept up Serena’s neck at his words.

"Your Highness," he said in common tongue, with a bow that was technically correct and emotionally meaningless.

Serena gave him a polite nod. Her eyes flicked to Alaric, who was studying his desk with sudden fascination.

"She’s quiet," Maelor observed, still in common tongue.

"She speaks High Morbian," Alaric said. His mouth twitched.

Something shifted behind Maelor’s eyes. A recalculation. He switched to High Orosian without missing a step, as though the last thirty seconds hadn’t occurred.

"She looks too much like a Fae to not be one. What color does her magic manifest as?"

"Gold," Alaric answered in High Orosian.

"I am no Fae," Serena jumped into the conversation, speaking the same language.

Gav leaned toward Dex. "I have no idea what’s happening, but I think she’s winning."

Dex didn’t respond. His eyes were on Serena, and the look on his face was complicated. Pride. Possessiveness. The faintest ghost of amusement breaking through the tension.

Maelor glanced at Alaric. He didn’t acknowledge that Serena had spoken. Instead, he switched again, this time to Sylvarae. A scholar’s language. Rare outside academic circles.

"She doesn’t like the Fae because of what they did to Frostborne. And yet, has she paused to ask why?"

Serena answered in Sylvarae. Her voice was level, but the patience in it was thinning.

"You assume incorrectly. I have no issues with an entire species, Master Maelor."

Gav settled back in his chair. "I’ve understood about four words so far. Three of them are names." He glanced at Dex. The death stare he got back should’ve discouraged him. It didn’t. "Gav four. Dex zero. Noted."

Maelor paused. The recalculation was visible this time. He switched to Vellumic. "She is part Fae. I feel it underneath whatever her dominant signature is. Dormant until recently." He tilted his head. "And some mage."

He turned to Serena fully and raised his hand. He moved it in front of her face and Serena felt something shift inside her. An energy she recognized but couldn’t name. Familiar and foreign at the same time. She looked down. Her hands were glowing pink.

When Maelor pulled his hand away, the glow vanished.

"Awakened by a trigger," he continued in Vellumic, speaking to Alaric now. "Usually a soul-altering event coupled with a tie to the latent magic underneath."

Serena was forming a question when the air in the room changed.

The temperature dropped. Gav stiffened in his chair.

The High Emperor of Orosia materialized near the window.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the room with the mild interest of someone who’d wandered into a lecture he hadn’t planned to attend. His gaze moved from Alaric to Dex to Gav, lingering on each with faint amusement, before settling on Maelor.

Serena didn’t look at him. Without turning her head, she raised her hand, and her gold magic formed an orb around him.

She held it steady this time. The gold sealed tight and held, and she could feel it straining, but her focus was sharper than it had been in the library.

Fear was useful fuel when you stopped letting it drive.

She spoke to Maelor in Vellumic. "Are you able to see him as clearly as I can?"

Maelor took a step back. He blinked twice, his composure cracking for real this time. He looked at Alaric. Then back at Serena. Then at the orb.

Gav looked between them like a man watching a tennis match. "She just did something impressive, didn’t she."

"How many languages is she fluent in?" Maelor asked Alaric.

Alaric didn’t look up. "Enough to impress Hyran Thornfell."

Maelor studied the orb. His expression had lost its academic detachment. What replaced it was something rawer. Caution, maybe. Or the look of a man who’d just realized the situation was larger than the briefing suggested. "You realize that containment is temporary."

"Yes," Serena said. "How do I get rid of him?"

Maelor looked at Alaric. The pain that crossed his face was brief but unmistakable. Not physical. Ethical. The expression of a man who knew what needed to be done and wished he didn’t.

Serena read it instantly.

"Do what you need to do," she said. Flat. Calm. Like a woman who’d been through enough that one more thing barely registered on the scale.

Maelor moved to her. His hand rose toward her forehead.

"Wait." Dex stepped forward. "What are you..."

Maelor’s fingers touched Serena’s skin.

The world went dark.

The last thing she heard before consciousness left her was Dex’s roar, raw and savage and so full of fear it didn’t sound human. And Gav’s voice, sharp and urgent, cutting through the noise.

Then nothing.