Nobela ni Bernard Rhodes

The silence around Blackthorn wasn’t peaceful.It was hollow.Like something had scooped out the heart of the world and left the shell behind.Ezra stood alone at the eastern watchtower, staring out at the fog-draped hills beyond the forest edge. The mist wasn’t moving. The trees weren’t swaying. No birds called. No wind stirred. It wasn’t quiet—it was watching. And his skin prickled with the weight of it.His mark hummed steadily beneath his sleeve. Not burning. Not flaring. Just waiting.He could feel it—not the wolf.Something older.Colder.Lurking in the stillness just beyond sight.And the longer he stood there, the more certain he became.The Fold wasn’t hiding anymore.---The estate was unraveling. Patrols doubled. No one lingered outside at night. The scouts whispered about strange lights floating high above the northern woods—too fast for torches, too wrong for stars. One came back shaking, claiming they’d seen figures made of smoke, gliding between the trees without ever t

The forest wasn’t silent when they left the ruins. It was listening.Ezra felt it the moment his boots touched the mossy path. The trees didn’t sway—they stood still, rigid, like soldiers at attention. The air didn’t move; it hovered. Every snapped twig echoed louder than it should’ve. Every breath he took felt like a trespass.He didn’t speak on the way back to Blackthorn. Not because he didn’t have the words—he had too many. But he didn’t trust what might come out if he opened his mouth. Rage? Grief? Power?Maybe all three.His body felt full. Not bloated, not aching—just… dense, like his skin was stretched over something ancient and alive. Like sealing that tomb hadn’t closed a door, but cracked open something inside him. The god-wolf wasn’t snarling anymore. It wasn’t pacing. It was waiting. And worse—it was listening back.Sometimes, when Ezra inhaled too deeply, it felt like he wasn’t the only one breathing.Kael stayed close. Not clingy, not smothering—just present. His shoulde

The light from Ezra’s mark faded slow—like breath leaving a body. Smoke curling off a fire that had burned too long. He stood in the heart of the ruin, chest heaving, knees shaking, but still upright. The air smelled like dust and blood. His mark—gold and black—glowed steady now. Not a flare. Not a warning. Just... present. Like it had finally decided it belonged to him.Raen crouched near a broken pillar, blood on his mouth, but his eyes were locked on Ezra—not with hate. With awe. Elen was on the ground behind him, clutching her ribs like her own bones betrayed her, her face pale and twisted with something that looked a lot like fear.“You don’t get it,” Raen said, voice rough but even. “You don’t know what you’ve woken.”Ezra stepped forward, boots crunching on broken stone, his voice sharp and exhausted. “Then stop circling it. Say what you mean.”Raen rose to his feet, slow, brushing the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. That same damn smirk curved his mouth, but the

Dawn broke over Blackthorn like a bruise—bleeding gold and gray across the sky, raw and unkind. No warmth, just light peeling back the dark, showing everything for what it was: cracked, tired, and on edge.Ezra stood in the courtyard with both boots buried in mud, steam curling around his ankles as if the ground itself couldn’t sit still. His cloak snapped in the wind. The estate behind him felt quiet—not peaceful, but tight. Wound-up. Waiting.His mark burned in his skin like a second pulse—not screaming, not raging anymore. Just there. Present. Like it had finally stopped seeing him as a vessel and started recognizing him as something more.The pack formed a loose ring around him. Not close. Not far. Watching. Mira stood near the gates, her hand resting near the hilt of her sword, eyes flicking between the horizon and Ezra’s face. Two scouts—Jorrin and Lysa—hovered to her right, tension bristling off their shoulders. Kael leaned against the stone steps with his arms crossed, face un

The nightmares didn’t creep in anymore. They crashed into Ezra like a wave he couldn’t fight—violent, immediate, like they’d been waiting behind his eyes all day.Woods twisted into bone. Trees licked with fire. A cracked moon bleeding silver overhead. The air choked with howls—thousands of them—layered into one roar of hunger and fury. Ezra ran, breathless, helpless, and every time he turned a corner, he saw himself.Only it wasn’t him.It was taller. Wilder. Crowned in flame, eyes like hollow stars. His mark, glowing like it had been carved by something ancient. And behind it—behind him—stood the wolf. Towering. Chained. Smiling like it knew exactly how this ended.Ezra bolted awake, gasping, the sheets soaked through. The cold air bit at his skin, but steam still rose from him like heat was leaking from his bones. His mark pulsed under his shirt, angry and hot, as if it had been fighting in the dream too.He pressed his palm to it, trying to steady his breath. It felt like it was t

The storm hit just after midnight—no thunder, no warning. Just a sharp, roaring wind and rain that tore into Blackthorn like the sky was trying to wash it clean. Ezra stood on the ridge overlooking the courtyard, drenched, the cold cutting through his clothes like knives. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Couldn’t.The fire in his chest burned hotter than the storm.His mark pulsed, steady and loud, thudding like a second heartbeat under his skin. Louder than the rain. Louder than the whispers.He felt them—every glance, every breath held when he walked past. The younger wolves recoiled like he was made of glass and gunpowder. The elders suddenly had meetings they’d never mentioned before. Even Mira, bold and unfiltered, kept her words clipped and her distance longer.Ezra didn’t blame them. Not anymore.A week ago, he was just another omega trying to find his footing. Now?He was something else. A gate. A key. A question none of them wanted to answer.“Thought I’d find you up here,” Kae