Chapter Twenty Two

‎The clearing’s silence lingered as we left the ancient stones behind, the First Lycan’s words echoing in my mind: *Embrace all you are.* The forest path back to Moonshadow felt heavier now, the air thick with the promise of more battles, more darkness drawn to my blood. My hand rested on my stomach, the flutter of my child steady, a quiet strength that grounded me. I was Lycan, a mother, a healer, and the weight of my power—its light, its danger—was mine to carry. Rex walked beside me, his red eyes vigilant, his hand warm in mine, the bond between us pulsing, a lifeline through the uncertainty.

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‎The pack moved with us, Moonshadow and Ironclaw allies together, their steps steady, their voices low but strong. They’d seen me stop the dark wolves, felt the light of my blood, and their trust wrapped around me like a shield, even as fear gnawed at my heart. The First Lycan’s warning was clear—my power, my child’s power, would draw enemies, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for what came next. But with Rex, with the pack, I wasn’t alone.

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‎The manor’s stone walls came into view, rising against the late afternoon sky, a beacon of home. The air was clean, rich with pine and earth, but that prickle on my skin returned, sharp and restless. My wolf stirred, alert, the warmth in my chest flaring, like it sensed something the rest of us didn’t. 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 off,” I said, my voice low, my hand tightening in his. “It’s too still.”

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

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‎A low rumble broke the quiet, not a growl but something deeper, like the earth itself was shifting. The trees swayed, though no wind stirred, and my heart raced, the warmth in my chest surging, my wolf clawing to the surface. Rex’s grip tightened, his body a shield, his red eyes blazing. “Talia,” he said, his voice urgent, “get behind me.”

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‎I shook my head, my jaw set. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “I fight with you.” The flutter in my stomach pulsed, my child’s strength fueling mine, and I felt it—my place, my power, my home.

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‎Before he could argue, the ground shook, a crack splitting the earth at the forest’s edge. Shadows poured from it, not wolves but something else—forms of smoke and claw, their eyes red like the dark wolves but wrong, twisted, like the curse’s last gasp. The pack gasped, their weapons raised, but fear flickered in their eyes, even the Ironclaw allies, who’d seen my power break their curse.

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‎“What are they?” I whispered, my voice trembling but steady, my wolf ready, the warmth blazing hot.

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‎Rex’s growl was fierce, his body tensing. “Wraiths,” he said, his voice low, grim. “The curse’s final defenders. Your blood woke them, Talia. They’re here for you.”

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‎My heart stopped, the First Lycan’s words ringing: *Others will try to take it from you.* These weren’t wolves—they were darkness itself, tied to the betrayal of my ancestors, hungry for the light in my blood. I shifted, my silver-grey fur shimmering, my claws digging into the earth, and Rex shifted beside me, his black wolf massive, his red eyes blazing. The bond pulsed, tying us together, and I felt his strength, his love, fueling mine.

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‎The wraiths surged, their forms swirling, claws slashing through the air. I lunged, my wolf fierce, my claws tearing through one, but it was like cutting smoke—it reformed, its red eyes gleaming, its claws raking my side. Pain seared through me, but my Lycan blood burned, healing fast, and I roared, my teeth snapping, driving it back.

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‎Rex fought beside me, his snarls echoing, his claws slashing through wraiths, but they kept coming, their numbers endless, their hunger relentless. The pack fought, their blades flashing, their howls rising, but the wraiths were too many, their forms slipping through steel, their claws drawing blood. A Moonshadow wolf fell, his cry sharp, and my heart twisted, anger surging.

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‎I couldn’t let this happen. Not again. The warmth in my chest roared, not just my wolf, but the healing light, the power that had broken the curse, stopped the wolves. I shifted back, my human form trembling, blood trickling down my side but healing, and raised my hands, instinct guiding me. “Enough!” I shouted, my voice raw, shaking the air.

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‎The warmth exploded, a wave of light bursting from me, brighter than before, a blinding tide that swept through the clearing. The wraiths shrieked, their forms dissolving, their red eyes fading into nothing. The ground stilled, the air clearing, and the pack stood frozen, their weapons lowered, their faces awed.

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‎Rex shifted back, blood streaking his face, his red eyes wide as he stepped toward me. “Talia,” he said, his voice rough, reverent, “you’re… unstoppable.”

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‎I shook my head, my breath ragged, my hands trembling, my hand pressing to my stomach, the flutter strong, my child safe. “I’m just me,” I said, my voice shaking. “Fighting 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 low, full of love. “You’re our light, Talia. Mine.”

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‎Tears stung my eyes, the bond pulsing, steady and true. I looked around, the pack watching, Moonshadow and Ironclaw together, their wounds healing, their eyes bright with hope. The manor loomed ahead, its walls strong, and I knew this was home—not just the stone, but the people, the love, the life growing inside me.

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‎A soft howl rose, not of fear but of triumph, the pack’s voices joining, shaking the forest. I stood taller, Rex’s hand in mine, my other hand on my stomach, and felt it—the future, not just mine, but ours. The wraiths were gone, the curse’s last echo silenced, but I knew others would come, drawn to my blood, my child’s power. And I’d face them, with Rex, with the pack, with the strength I’d claimed.

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‎As we walked toward the manor, the sun high above, I leaned into Rex, his warmth my anchor. “I love you,” I whispered, my voice soft but sure, my heart full.

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‎He smiled, his red eyes soft, his hand tightening in mine. “For always,” he said, his voice a vow.

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‎The pack howled again, their voices carrying, a song of home, of hope, of us. I was Talia, Lycan, mother, healer, and with Rex beside me, my child growing, my pack strong, I was ready for whatever came next, with love, with light, with the power in my blood.