Alpha Xander's Undoing Chasing my Unknown Mate Back novel Chapter 130

Imperial 130 Summary

As night falls, the battlefield outside the Academy is shrouded in smoke and chaos. The Venatorum launch a gas attack that weakens the gifted wolves’ powers, causing despair and struggle among the defenders. Rory, feeling the draining effects herself, calls upon Zerina’s power not to fight with fire, but to bring calm and balance. Her presence spreads a wave of stillness that steadies her allies and repels the Venatorum, breaking their line and turning the tide of the battle, though Rory is left physically exhausted.

At dawn, the survivors regroup amid the ruins, tense and wary. The Venatorum return, now accompanied by corrupted gifted wolves under the control of Durnham, who reveals himself as a powerful and dangerous foe. Durnham claims to offer a new evolution, rejecting balance for dominance. Isaac confronts him but is overpowered and gravely wounded. Rory and Xander work to protect Isaac and prepare for the next assault, knowing the war for balance is far from over.

Later, Rory and Vallin discover that Durnham is not just attacking but attempting to open a dimensional rift by reactivating ancient runes beneath the Academy. This rift threatens to consume both realms, fueled by corrupted Venatorum technology and magic. Rory realizes she is a crucial part of this ritual, a bridge for Durnham’s power, and must act carefully to stop him without giving him further strength.

In the Academy’s Solstice chamber, Rory confronts Durnham as he completes the ritual and tears open the barrier between worlds. With Vallin’s support and Zerina’s guidance, Rory steps into the heart of the magic and reverses one of the key runes, causing the rift to destabilize. Despite Durnham’s fury and the violent backlash of power, Rory holds firm, embodying true balance and pushing back against ruin for the first time. The chapter ends with a blinding light and a fragile hope that balance might yet prevail.

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Chapter 130

Rory

By the time night fell, the world had turned the color of smoke.

The battlefield stretched from the shattered east wall of the Academy to the black treeline beyond, a wasteland of broken stone, burning sigils, and the stench of blood. The moon hung low behind the clouds, veiled and ghostly, watching what remained of us try to hold.

The Venatorum didn’t retreat when the light died. They waited for darkness–because the dark belonged to them.

I knew the moment their next move began. A hiss rolled through the field, soft at first, like steam leaking through a crack. Then the smell hit–acid and iron. Thin clouds began to crawl low across the ground, glowing faintly blue.

“Z3,” Vallin shouted from somewhere near the barricades. His voice cut through the wind. “Masks on! Don’t breathe it!”

The gas spread fast, swallowing the fallen and the living alike. Where it touched the air, the gifted wolves faltered. Their power flickered, sputtered, dimmed. Dhara stumbled mid–attack, her lightning dissolving into harmless sparks. Castor caught her before she hit the ground, his voice a hoarse curse against the fog.

I could feel it too. The pull of Zerina’s balance faltered, the golden hum under my skin dimming to a faint whisper. My lungs burned; my head felt too light.

Xander was fighting near the center of the field, his movements slowing, blade heavy in his hands. He was still a force–raw, brutal, impossible–but every swing came slower, every breath shorter.

“Rory, fall back!” Vallin’s command cut through the smoke.

“I can’t,” I rasped, coughing as the taste of metal coated my tongue. The gas curled around me like fingers, cold and clinging. “If I fall back, they win.”

Zerina stirred faintly–weak, distant, but present.

Breathe, Aurora.

Her voice wasn’t sound so much as feeling–a steady pulse that pressed against my ribs.

‘Balance isn’t only fire. It’s calm. Anchor them.’

“I can’t even stand,” I whispered under my breath, but my knees straightened anyway.

The Academy’s wards flickered gold and then collapsed. A roar rose from the Venatorum line. They surged forward, their armor gleaming with that sickly blue light that fed on fear.

I closed my eyes and reached inward. Not for power. Not for flame. For stillness.

Zerina met me there.

The world fell away, and for a moment, it was just her–a shape of light and shadow that stretched wide as the sky, her eyes the color of dawn and dusk at once.

“They burn and break because they believe they must fight chaos with chaos,‘ she said. ‘But we are not chaos.

We are the line that holds it still.’

I didn’t know what she wanted me to do until I realized I was already doing it.

The panic around me slowed. The rush of breath, the clang of steel, the shouting–all of it softened. A ripple of calm spread outward, starting at my chest and moving through the ground. Where it touched, the gifted steadied. Dhara’s lightning sparked again, Castor’s wind flared back to life, Mona’s hands stopped shaking as she healed a fallen soldier.

Xander froze mid–fight, his eyes cutting to me through the haze. I could feel him again–faintly, like an echo -but it was enough.

“Rory!” he shouted.

I tried to answer, but the sound caught in my throat.

The Venatorum realized what was happening. Arrows turned toward me, streaking through the smoke. I raised my hands, and Zerina’s light flared gold around me, catching each shaft midair. They burned away before they reached my skin.

But it drained me fast. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground hard enough to taste blood.

“Rory!”

The voice was closer now. Xander fought toward me, his blade flashing silver under the moonlight, carving through the gas and the soldiers in his way. I pushed myself up, breath hitching, but before I could move, something exploded behind him.

A burst of green light. The shockwave hit like a hammer.

Xander was thrown backward, his body crashing through debris. For a second, I couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in my ears.

Then everything inside me broke open.

“XANDER!”

The scream tore from somewhere deeper than lungs or throat–it ripped straight through the bond and out into the air. The world cracked with it.

Zerina’s voice surged, no longer calm but fierce.

“Then let them see what balance truly is.’

The ground split beneath me. Golden light flooded outward, swallowing the blue haze in waves. It rose in

spirals, wrapping around the wounded, burning through the gas. The Venatorum closest to me staggered, blinded, their weapons falling from their hands.

The energy built faster than I could contain. My skin felt too small for it, my blood too thin. The light burst from my fingertips, slamming into the ground where the Venatorum stood. The earth erupted, stone cracking, fire curling upward in arcs that painted the night in molten gold.

When the glare faded, silence followed.

The gas was gone. The air was clear. The Venatorum line had broken.

I dropped to my knees, the strength in my legs gone, my breath ragged. The glow from Zerina’s light dimmed slowly, fading into warmth under my skin.

Xander’s arms were around me before I even saw him coming. His chest was bleeding, his armor dented, but he was alive. I pressed my forehead to his shoulder, shaking.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, voice hoarse, holding me tighter. “Completely, utterly insane.”

“You’re welcome,” I breathed.

He laughed once—shaky, broken, alive.

Around us, the battlefield was still. The gifted wolves were catching their breath, their eyes turning toward me, wide with disbelief. Some whispered my name. Others whispered hers.

Zerina’s hum settled in my chest again, soft and steady.

“The tide has turned, but the storm is not done.’

I looked out over the ruins, where the last of the smoke curled away into the night. “I know,” I whispered. “But neither are we.”

Xander’s hand found mine, fingers tangling, the bond thrumming between us like a heartbeat.

The first strike had been survived.

The next one would decide everything.

Chapter 131

Xander

Dawn came in red.

The horizon bled with color–scarlet spilling into the gray of the smoke that hadn’t lifted since the night before. The field below the north wall was littered with the remains of the first battle: shattered armor, scorched weapons, and the faint smell of iron that clung to the back of every breath.

No one spoke. Not the wounded gathered along the barricades. Not the wolves still standing guard, eyes fixed on the treeline that shivered with something too quiet to be peace. Even the wind had gone still.

Azrien prowled restless under my skin, the silence twisting into tension that felt worse than pain. “It’s not over,” he said, low, his voice rough inside my head.

He was right. I could feel it–an unease that didn’t belong to the air, but to the world itself.

Vallin stood at the center of the courtyard, his robes singed, his staff cracked, his expression grave as he studied the light edging through the smoke. Dhara and Castor flanked him, the ground still faintly humming from the power they’d poured into it last night. Mona and Matt were tending to the injured near the wards, their clothes bloodstained, their faces drawn tight with exhaustion.

We’d survived the first strike. But surviving and winning weren’t the same thing.

“Movement!” a lookout shouted from the tower.

Heads lifted. Weapons followed.

Shapes emerged from the mist. Dozens of them. Hundreds. The Venatorum had returned, their armor dark and unbroken, their formation too precise for men who should’ve been scattered. Behind them, figures moved slower, their gait unsteady but deliberate.

When they stepped into the light, my stomach turned cold.

Gifted wolves.

I recognized some of them. Students. Warriors. Faces that had been missing since the Solstice. They walked in silence beside the Venatorum, eyes glassy, sigils burned black across their throats.

Rory’s voice was barely a whisper. “He turned them.”

I couldn’t answer. My chest was too tight, my jaw locked too hard to speak.

Then the rest of the fog split.

And he appeared.

Durnham didn’t walk–he arrived. Like the air itself decided to make room for him. His armor gleamed silver and black, streaked with faint gold veins that pulsed under the surface like living light. He held no weapon,

but he didn’t need one. Power bled from him in waves, curling the mist into strange, trembling shapes.

When he spoke, the words carried too easily across the field, smooth and cold as glass.

“You see what they made of us.”

He spread his hands, smiling faintly, like this was all some grand performance he’d already won.

“The Venatorum wanted order. The gifted wanted control. Both feared what they couldn’t command. But me –“His voice deepened, vibrating in the air. “I am the evolution they feared.”

Vallin stepped forward, staff braced against the earth. “You’ve enslaved your own kind.”

“I’ve freed them,” Durnham said softly. “You call it corruption. I call it clarity. They see now that the world doesn’t want balance–it wants dominance. It always has.”

Rory’s hand brushed mine. She was shaking, though her face stayed calm. Zerina’s light shimmered faintly in her eyes, like dawn fighting the dark.

Isaac moved before any of us could stop him. He stepped out from the front ranks, his hood falling back, his blond hair catching the early light. The scar across his jaw looked deeper today, like it had been carved open again by the weight of memory.

“Durnham,” he said, his voice rough. “You always talked about clarity. About salvation. But you were just building yourself a throne.”

Durnham’s eyes softened, almost fond. “Isaac. My wayward nephew. I wondered when you’d finally come crawling back.”

“I didn’t crawl.”

“No,” Durnham agreed. “You ran.”

The soldiers behind him shifted, waiting for a signal. Isaac stood alone between us and them, his hands clenched at his sides. The tension between them crackled like static, heavy enough to choke on.

“Leave them,” Isaac said. “Leave the Academy. Leave her.” His eyes flicked toward Rory. “This isn’t balance. This is madness.”

Durnham tilted his head, his smile widening. “You still think you can teach me morality?”

He raised his hand. The earth trembled. Power coiled around his fingers like smoke and lightning combined.

Isaac reacted fast, pulling moisture straight from the air, forming a whip of water that snapped forward in one fluid motion. It struck Durnham square across the chest–but instead of sending him back, the liquid froze midair, turning black before shattering like glass.

Durnham chuckled. “You’ve grown stronger.”

Isaac didn’t reply. He lunged again, this time drawing every drop of water from the ground itself. It rose in a spiral, sharp and glinting like a blade. He swung, forcing Durnham to deflect. The clash of power cracked the

ground open, spraying dirt and sparks.

The Venatorum advanced, but I was already running.

“Isaac!” I shouted. “Fall back!”

He didn’t hear me–or didn’t care. The next blow from Durnham sent him sprawling. Lightning arced from Durnham’s palm, slamming Isaac against the remnants of the outer wall. The air filled with the smell of ozone and burnt flesh.

“NO!” Rory screamed.

I was there before she could reach him. I caught Isaac’s weight as he crumpled, his body hot and shaking, blood slick on my hands. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, his breath coming shallow.

“Don’t-” he coughed, crimson spilling down his chin, “don’t let him take her.”

“Save your strength,” I muttered, dragging him backward, my vision tunneling. Arrows hissed past my head. The Venatorum line had begun to move again.

Rory covered us, her hands raised, gold light spinning into a barrier that deflected the arrows midair. Zerina’s hum filled the air, low and steady, the only thing holding the chaos back.

Behind us, Vallin shouted orders. “Get him inside the wards! NOW!”

I half–lifted, half–dragged Isaac toward the inner gate. His blood soaked through my armor, hot and slick. He tried to stand once, failed, then grabbed my forearm instead, his grip surprisingly strong.

“I was wrong,” he rasped. “About him. About everything.”

“You’re not dying here,” I said through my teeth.

His lips twitched, a weak attempt at a smile. “You sound like her.”

“Good.”

When we crossed into the courtyard, Mona and Matt were already waiting. Mona knelt, pressing her hands over Isaac’s chest as her eyes glowed faintly white. “It’s bad,” she muttered.

“He bought us time,” I said, my voice rough. “Make it worth something.”

Vallin’s wards flared again, sealing us off just as another blast hit the outer walls. The impact shook the Academy to its core.

Through the cracks, I could still see Durnham standing untouched amid the ruin, power rippling around him like a crown. His corrupted wolves knelt at his feet, their eyes glowing blue with whatever poison he’d filled them with.

Azrien’s fury roared through me, a storm against bone. Let me out, he snarled. He bleeds for this.

“Not yet,” I hissed. “Not until Rory’s safe.”

She was beside me now, breathing hard, her face pale in the flicker of firelight. Her gaze stayed locked on Durnham. “He’s not just after me anymore.”

“No,” I said. “He’s after everything.”

The first wall crumbled under another blast. The Academy shuddered, dust raining down from the arches above.

Vallin steadied himself against his staff, his voice grim. “Get everyone ready. The next wave won’t stop at the gates.”

As he spoke, Durnham lifted his hand again. The soldiers knelt. The air burned.

The sun broke over the horizon, washing the world in crimson.

And the war for balance truly began.

Chapter 132

*Rory*

The sky shouldn’t bleed.

That was the first thought that struck me when the light cracked through the clouds–thin, searing veins that split across the horizon like the world itself was tearing open. The air hummed with energy so heavy it made my bones ache. Every breath tasted like metal and ash.

We’d fallen back into the inner courtyard, what was left of it anyway. The once–smooth stone was carved by claw marks, splintered roots, and scorch trails that hadn’t cooled since the last strike. The Academy walls shuddered with every echo of Durnham’s power outside.

“Something’s wrong,” Vallin said quietly, though wrong didn’t begin to cover it. He was kneeling near the base of one of the Solstice pillars–those ancient markers that had survived every age of war. His fingers traced the cracks that had begun to crawl up its side, the sigils faintly glowing red. “He’s not attacking. He’s pulling.”

“Pulling what?” I asked, though my stomach already knew the answer.

Vallin rose slowly, his face ashen in the glow. “Reality.”

I stared at him. “That’s not possible.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be,” he said grimly. “But the runes you helped me study–the ones carved under the north tower? They were fragments of something much older. He’s re–creating the circle that was once used to bridge dimensions.”

My heart dropped. “The door.”

He nodded. “The same one Zerina once sealed.”

Outside, a tremor rolled through the ground so deep it rattled the marrow of my teeth. I turned toward the broken archway leading to the courtyard’s edge. Beyond it, the horizon had changed–colors I didn’t have names for spilling across the sky. The air shimmered, vibrating between light and shadow.

The door was opening.

I could feel it. Every rune Durnham had activated pulsed through the bond like a heartbeat gone wrong. The ground beneath my boots wasn’t steady anymore; it was breathing, alive and unstable.

“Rory,” Vallin said, his voice tight, “he’s feeding off the remnants of the Z3 compounds. They weren’t just weapons–they were conduits. Venatorum tech mixed with ancient magic. He’s found a way to use the chaos it leaves behind.”

“Which means if he finishes this…”

“The fracture won’t stop here,” he said. “It’ll spread through the ley lines. It’ll consume both realms.”

My throat went dry. “Then we stop him.”

Vallin’s hand shot out, catching my arm. “No. You can’t just charge at him. You’re the bridge he needs–if he gets hold of your power again, he’ll finish it instantly.”

“Then tell me what to do!” My voice cracked with the strain. “Because I’m not standing here while he tears the world apart!”

The glow from the pillar flared brighter, casting long shadows across Vallin’s face. He didn’t answer at first. His eyes were on the runes now, moving like he was memorizing a map only he could read.

Finally, he said, “There’s a way to weaken the ritual. He’s using the oldest form of balance magic–creation through destruction. If we can reverse one of the runes in the circle, it’ll collapse before the door stabilizes.”

“Then we find it.”

Vallin nodded once. “Stay behind me. The energy will be unstable.”

I followed him through the wreckage, my heart hammering. The deeper we went into the lower halls, the louder the hum became–a sound like a thousand voices trapped between worlds. The walls glowed with etched lines, light seeping through the cracks as if something on the other side was pressing to get out.

Zerina’s voice stirred faintly, threading through the noise.

He seeks balance through ruin.

The whisper was softer this time, but it vibrated through my blood like a truth I couldn’t unhear.

Show him what balance truly is.

I closed my eyes briefly, steadying myself against the pulse of her presence. When I opened them again, the hall was brighter. The runes along the floor lit in a spiral, leading down into the old Solstice chamber–the heart of the Academy.

That was where Durnham stood.

The doors to the chamber were half–melted, half–frozen, the result of clashing power. I could hear his voice from within, low and calm, like a prayer.

“Through chaos comes renewal. Through shadow, the light bends. Through fracture, the world is remade.”

He wasn’t just casting a spell. He was rewriting a law of nature.

Vallin raised a hand, signaling for silence. We crouched near the doorway, peering inside.

The chamber was unrecognizable. The floor had split into uneven slabs, glowing red from the molten lines that ran between them. Runes hovered midair, swirling in intricate loops. At the center of it all, Durnham stood within a circle of light, his body outlined in a storm of gold and shadow. Behind him, the air wavered, rippling like water before it solidified into something worse.

A rift.

It stretched high into the ceiling, bleeding light so bright it hurt to look at directly. Through it, faint shapes

moved–vast, distorted silhouettes that weren’t human. The sound coming from it wasn’t quite a scream, but it wasn’t silence either. It was everything in between.

“He’s done it,” Vallin whispered. “He’s torn through the barrier.”

The runes along the edge of the circle pulsed faster. I could feel them in my chest, syncing with my heartbeat, each one pulling at me, calling me toward the rift.

Durnham turned slightly, as though he heard it too. “Ah,” he said softly. “There you are.”

Vallin moved first, stepping into the doorway. His staff struck the ground with a crack of light. “This ends now, Durnham.”

Durnham smiled faintly. “You still think you can stop evolution, old man?”

He extended his hand. The rift flared brighter, the light spilling across the chamber like a tidal wave. Vallin countered instantly, his wards bursting into gold. The two forces collided with a thunderclap that sent cracks spidering up the walls.

I tried to move closer, but the pull from the rift grew stronger. Zerina’s hum deepened inside me–steady, powerful, grounding.

You are not his key, Aurora. You are his counterweight.

Her light filled me like breath, threading through my veins, weaving through the broken strands of what had once been my fear. I could see the pattern now, the way his chaos spun out of control, feeding on imbalance.

I stepped into the circle.

“Rory, no!” Vallin shouted.

The moment my foot touched the sigil, the air ignited. Light and shadow twisted together, wrapping around me in spirals of flame and frost. Durnham’s power hit mine like a wall, but Zerina’s calm met it head–on, turning the surge into stillness.

Durnham’s eyes widened. “You-”

“Seek balance,” I finished for him. My voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. It sounded older. Steadier.

The rift pulsed, uncertain now, the edges flickering. I raised my hand, gold light coiling from my fingertips, and drew one line across the air–one rune in reverse. The chamber shuddered violently. The light dimmed.

Durnham roared, his composure breaking. “You can’t hold it!”

“Watch me.”

The rift screamed, the sound like glass and thunder all at once. The earth split beneath our feet, the sky outside flaring white as if the sun had fallen.

Vallin’s voice reached me through the storm, ragged but strong. “Whatever happens–don’t let go!”

I didn’t.

The last thing I saw before the world went blindingly white was Durnham’s face twisting in disbelief–because for the first time, something had pushed back.

Something had chosen balance over ruin.

Conclusion

In this chapter, the weight of battle and the struggle for balance come to a head, revealing the depth of Rory’s resilience and the true nature of her power. Amidst the chaos and destruction, she finds strength not in fury but in calm, embodying the delicate equilibrium that Zerina represents. Her connection to the ancient magic and her unwavering resolve become a beacon of hope, even as the threat of Durnham’s dark ambitions looms large. The emotional intensity of the fight is matched by the quiet moments of vulnerability and determination shared with Xander, underscoring the personal stakes behind the broader conflict.

As the chapter closes, the opening of the rift and Rory’s courageous act to reverse the destructive ritual mark a pivotal turning point. The fragile balance between light and shadow, creation and destruction, is tested like never before. Rory’s choice to stand firm against Durnham’s chaos, supported by the steady guidance of Zerina and her allies, hints at the possibility of preserving not just the Academy, but the very fabric of their world. It is a moment of both hope and uncertainty, where the outcome remains unwritten, but the fight for balance continues with renewed purpose.

What to Expect in Next Chapter?

The next chapter promises to plunge readers deeper into the heart of the Academy’s struggle, where the very fabric of reality trembles on the edge of collapse. Rory’s daring act to reverse the ancient rune sets the stage for a confrontation that is as much about inner strength and balance as it is about raw power. As the rift wavers and the chamber quakes, the tension between destruction and renewal will reach a fever pitch, forcing every character to confront what they truly stand for.

Emotions will run high as alliances are tested and the cost of defiance becomes painfully clear. Rory’s connection with Zerina grows ever more profound, offering a fragile hope amid the chaos, but the danger lurking beyond the rift hints at consequences that could shatter everything they’ve fought to protect. The looming presence of Durnham, stripped of his composure and desperate to reclaim control, sets the stage for a battle that will challenge not only their magic but their very souls. Readers will be left breathless, eager to witness whether balance can truly prevail against such overwhelming darkness.