Chapter Twenty One

The forest path back to Moonshadow was quiet, the trees standing sentinel under a sky now bright with midday sun. The pack moved steadily, their steps lighter, their voices soft, carrying the hope we’d kindled in Ironclaw. My hand rested on my stomach, the flutter of my child a constant pulse, stronger now, like it knew we were heading home. I was Lycan, a mother, a healer, and the weight of the silver-haired woman’s words clung to me: *Your child will carry your power.* The prophecy wasn’t done, and neither was I, but with Rex beside me, his hand warm in mine, I felt ready, even if fear lingered.

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‎Rex’s red eyes flicked to me, soft but vigilant, the bond between us pulsing, a steady thread of love and strength. He hadn’t spoken much since the woman’s warning, but his presence was enough, his grip a silent promise to face whatever came next. My leg still ached faintly from the dark wolf’s graze, but my Lycan blood was healing it, the pain fading with every step. The pack trusted me now, their eyes no longer wary but warm, and I carried that trust like armor, even as the future loomed, uncertain and vast.

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‎We reached the edge of Moonshadow’s lands, the manor’s stone walls rising in the distance, a beacon of home. The air was cleaner here, rich with pine and earth, free of the curse’s echo. But something felt off, a prickle on my skin, like the forest was watching. My wolf stirred, alert, the warmth in my chest flaring, restless. I glanced at Rex, his jaw tight, his eyes scanning the trees, and I knew he felt it too.

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‎“Something’s wrong,” I said, my voice low, my hand tightening in his. “It’s too quiet.”

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‎He nodded, his growl soft but primal. “Stay close,” he said, his voice sharp, signaling the pack to tighten their formation. Their hands went to their weapons, eyes glowing in the sunlight, ready for whatever waited.

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‎A shadow moved in the trees, fast and silent, then another. My heart raced, the warmth in my chest surging, my wolf clawing to the surface. Rex’s growl deepened, his body tensing beside me. “They’re here,” he said, his voice low, fierce. “The dark wolves. They followed us.”

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‎Before I could respond, they attacked—dark shapes bursting from the forest, their red eyes cruel, their snarls wild with hunger. These weren’t the rogues or the curse’s remnants; they were something else, stronger, driven by a purpose I didn’t understand. I shifted, my silver-grey fur shimmering, my claws digging into the earth, and lunged, my wolf fierce, ready to protect my home, my child, my pack.

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‎Rex shifted beside me, his black wolf massive, his red eyes blazing, and we fought as one, the bond guiding us, our movements sharp and sure. I tore through a wolf, my claws slashing its throat, blood hot on my fur. Another came, and I met it, my teeth sinking into its flank, my Lycan strength surging, unstoppable. The pack fought around us, their howls rising, blades flashing, but the dark wolves were relentless, their numbers pressing in, their eyes fixed on me.

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‎One broke through, its jaws wide, aiming for my side. I dodged, but it was fast, its claws raking my shoulder, pain searing through me. Rex’s roar shook the air, his wolf tackling it, his teeth tearing through its neck. He turned to me, his eyes wild, checking me, and I growled, low and steady, telling him I was fine, even as blood trickled down my arm.

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‎The warmth in my chest flared, not just my wolf, but the healing power I’d felt before, the light that had stopped the rogues, broken the curse. I shifted back, my human form trembling, my shoulder bleeding but healing, and raised my hands, instinct taking over. “Stop!” I shouted, my voice raw, carrying through the forest. The warmth surged, a wave of light bursting from me, soft but blinding, spreading like a tide.

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‎The dark wolves froze, their snarls fading, their red eyes dimming, like the power driving them was unraveling. Some fell, whimpering, others backed away, their tails low, their hunger gone. The pack stared, their weapons still, their faces awed. Rex shifted back, blood streaking his face, his red eyes wide as he stepped toward me.

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‎“You’re incredible,” he said, his voice low, raw with pride and love. “Every time, you surprise me.”

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‎I shook my head, my breath ragged, my hands trembling. “I’m just doing what I have to,” I said, my voice shaking, my hand pressing to my stomach, the flutter strong, my child safe. “For them. For us.”

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‎He pulled me close, his arms warm, his heart pounding against mine. “You’re more than that,” he said, his voice rough. “You’re everything, Talia. My mate, my home.”

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‎My throat tightened, tears stinging my eyes. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, how his love had held me through the fear, the pain, but a new sound broke the quiet—a low, mournful howl, not from the dark wolves, but from deeper in the forest. The pack tensed, their eyes darting to the trees, and I felt it, a pull, like the warmth in my chest was calling me forward.

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‎“It’s not over,” I said, my voice steady, my hand tightening in Rex’s. “There’s something else out there.”

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‎He nodded, his jaw set, his eyes fierce. “We’ll face it,” he said, his voice a vow. “Together.”

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‎The pack moved with us, their steps cautious, their weapons ready. We followed the howl, the forest growing darker, the air heavier, like it held secrets older than the curse. My wolf stirred, ready, but the warmth in my chest was different now, not just power, but purpose, guiding me.

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‎We reached a clearing, the ground marked with ancient stones, their surfaces etched with runes like the ones in Ironclaw. At the center stood a lone wolf, its fur silver like mine, its eyes glowing gold, not cruel but ancient, wise. It didn’t attack, just watched, its presence heavy, like the woman who’d appeared before.

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‎I shifted back, my human form trembling, my hand still in Rex’s. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice steady, the warmth pulsing, my child’s flutter strong.

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‎The wolf shifted, becoming a woman, her hair silver, her eyes gold, her face lined with age but sharp with strength. “I am the First Lycan,” she said, her voice resonant, like it came from the earth. “Your ancestor, Talia. Your blood woke me, broke the curse, but it also stirred those who fear your power.”

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‎My heart raced, the warmth surging, like it recognized her. “What do they want?” I asked, my voice firm. “The dark wolves, the ones who keep coming?”

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‎She stepped closer, her eyes softening. “Your power,” she said. “The Lycan blood, the healing light—it threatens those who thrive on darkness. They’ll hunt you, your child, until you claim your place fully.”

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‎Rex’s growl was low, his hand tightening in mine. “They won’t touch her,” he said, his voice fierce. “Or the child.”

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‎The woman smiled, small but proud. “You’re her strength, Alpha,” she said, her eyes on Rex. “But she is her own. Talia, you must embrace all you are—Lycan, mother, healer. Only then will the darkness fall.”

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‎I nodded, my throat tight, the warmth steady, my child’s flutter a promise. “I will,” I said, my voice loud, carrying through the clearing. “For my child, for my pack, for us.”

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‎She faded, her form dissolving into light, leaving the clearing quiet. The pack murmured, their eyes on me, trust and awe in their gazes. Rex pulled me close, his arms warm, his red eyes soft. “I’m with you,” he said, his voice rough, full of love. “Always.”

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‎I smiled, tears falling, the bond pulsing, my heart full. I was Talia, Lycan, mother, healer, and with Rex, with the pack, with my child, I was ready to claim my place, to face the darkness, to build a future worth fighting for.