Caitlyn's POV
My brother and I stood facing each other, his eyes full of disdain, like he was daring me to make the first move. I met his gaze and sprinted behind Richard, using my speed to land a solid hit. The impact sent me flying, but I managed to twist in the air and strike him again.
I skidded across the ground, my claws scraping against the floor, leaving sparks.
I had scratched Richard's eye, and the blood made him snap. The mocking look in his men's eyes vanished and turned into rage.
"Hey, Richard! Brother! Don't go easy on her just because she's your lover!"
"Losing to her would be downright embarrassing!"
Richard stared at me, his expression a mix of shock and anger. My progress had caught him off guard. Just a few days ago, I was a weak, inexperienced werewolf. I was surprised—my body moved faster than my mind could keep up with, instinctively pulling off moves I didn't even know I had. Dr. Smith mu
Caitlyn's POVRaymond and I returned to Eldoria, not as conquerors, not as the chosen, but as two wolves who had learned the weight of love and the freedom it could bring. We had the glyphs of legacy in our possession, the knowledge of the old ones who had come before us, and we knew what we had to do next.We established the Moon Archive. A place of truth. A living library of stories written not by victors, but by those who had survived the wars—the ones who had endured the pain, the loss, and the hope. We invited wolves of all kinds—rogue, pureblood, mixed—to contribute their stories. Their grief. Their joy. Every piece of truth, every memory, every tale would live on here.It didn’t matter who we were before. All that mattered now was who we were going to become. The young ones gathered around me as I read aloud the story of the Prime Wolf—not as a monster, not as an enemy—but as a warning. A lesson on the dangers of fear. Fear of what love could do, how it c
Caitlyn's POVThe cloaked figure before us was silent for a long time. When it finally spoke, its voice was low, almost a whisper carried on the wind. "Love forged in fire can still blind," it said, eyes glowing with an intensity that matched the weight of its words. "Before you lead others into peace, you must face one last Trial of Two."I exchanged a glance with Raymond, unsure of what was coming next, but resolute in my belief that we could face whatever it was together. The figure’s next words, though, sent a shiver through me.“The trial is not a battle,” the figure continued. “It is a mirror walk. You will each face your own labyrinth, built from your fears, your regrets, your choices. And you must find each other in the center—not by memory, but by feeling. By the bond you share."Raymond and I stood there for a moment, the weight of the trial sinking in. This wasn’t something that could be fought. We couldn’t rely on strength or weapons. We had t
Caitlyn's POVThe dreams started creeping back in, and this time, they weren't about the Prime Wolf. No, this was something older, something deeper, something that stirred in the shadows of my mind. I saw ruins—crumbling structures long forgotten by time. I heard whispers, foreign and ancient, speaking in tongues that made my skin prickle. And always, there was a throne, made of ashes and bone, sitting in the center of it all.I woke from one such dream with a sense of unease. It wasn't fear, not exactly, but something close—something that warned me. These weren’t just memories. These were messages. A reminder, perhaps, of something buried beneath everything we thought we had finished with.I confided in Raymond the next morning. He listened carefully, as always, his brow furrowed in thought, but there was no panic in his gaze. "Maybe we need to look at it differently," he suggested quietly. "Not as warriors, but as historians. Let's seek knowledge, not weapons.
Caitlyn's POVFor the first time in months, the world was quiet. There were no whispers of the Prime Wolf, no prophecies hanging over us, no battles to fight. The moon glowed silver, not red. The night felt like it had finally exhaled, and I couldn’t help but let myself breathe in the peace.I woke slowly, lazily entangled in Raymond’s arms. There were no nightmares, no rushing thoughts of a future I couldn’t control. There was only warmth, the softness of his skin against mine, and the quiet, peaceful rhythm of our breathing.I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this calm. It had been a long time since I was able to just exist—without the weight of the world on my shoulders. The future didn’t feel so heavy anymore. I could almost taste the freedom, and it was sweet.I spent my days reacquainting myself with life outside of battle. I helped with the pack children, playing with them, teaching them the things they would need to know to grow up in this n
Caitlyn's POVI walked through the heart of Eldoria with Raymond at my side, my steps light despite the weight of everything we had been through. For the first time, I didn’t feel like the prophecy’s child, or a weapon made to be wielded. I was simply Caitlyn. Just Caitlyn. And I stood there not as a chosen one, but as a leader by choice, as Alpha by choice.The people were bowing, as they had always done. And as they did, I stopped. I looked at them—at my people—and I didn’t feel the need to make them kneel anymore. I wasn’t the ruler they feared. I wasn’t here to hold them under my thumb. I wanted something different. I wanted them to stand beside me, not in submission, but in strength.“I want your loyalty, not your fear,” I said, my voice clear and strong. “I want your hands, not your knees.”The air shifted as my words settled into the space between us. There was no more need for the o
After the dance, Caitlyn began to experience stronger flashes—more than just feelings, but fragments of memories that had been locked away. It started small, like a flicker in the corner of her mind, but soon, the flashes became more vivid, more frequent. Conversations that she couldn’t fully place, scents that felt familiar but distant, moments frozen in time, like a firelit kiss or Raymond’s voice whispering promises in the dark.One day, after one such flash, she found herself sitting at a desk in their old tent, scribbling down every piece that came to her. She had started journaling, trying to make sense of the bits and pieces of her life with him that she could barely remember.Her pen moved furiously across the paper: Her own hands holding a dying flower, then lighting a battlefield in silver flame.The words felt both foreign and familiar. She could feel the memories, even if she didn’t fully understand them. A part of her was awakening—something deep in