CAUISWe scoured the halls until our feet ached and our patience thinned.Every wall, every crack, every space in the packhouse was searched—twice. The talismans Ysara gave us were sensitive, humming lightly in our palms whenever they neared even the faintest trace of cursed energy. But for hours, they offered nothing but silence.Until Kora stopped dead in her tracks."Wait… the old stone hearth," she said, her voice sharp with realization. "The one in the original east wing kitchen. No one uses it anymore, but it's still there."The east wing. Of course.No one cooked there now. The kitchens had been rebuilt on the other side after the fire years ago. But the room remained accessible—used occasionally for storage, sometimes by pups playing hide-and-seek. A forgotten relic of our home’s past.And the perfect place to hide something no one was meant to find.We rushed to the hearth, the talismans growing heavier with each step.As soon as we crossed the threshold, the symbols on the t
MORGANAThe scent of rosemary and dried bloodroot clung to my robes as I pored over the fifth tome of the morning. My fingers trembled—not from age, but from urgency. It had been two days since we discovered the truth.Two days since I learned that Malakar had not merely touched Caius’ mind… but had laced himself into his very shadow.A tether. A slow poison.A curse older than most witches alive today.I hadn’t slept. The fire in my chamber barely flickered anymore, kept alive only by the pulse of my magic and the constant rustling of pages. On the table before me, scrolls lay scattered, ink smudged by my hurried notes. I’d summoned wind spirits for answers. Brewed insight draughts. Called on the ancestors through the Oracle’s Mirror.Nothing had given me what I needed.Because this was no ordinary corruption. Malakar wasn’t just feeding off Caius—he was waiting. Waiting for the right moment to seize full control.And that moment was drawing near.Caius hadn't said much in the last t
LIRA The moon looked wrong tonight. It hung lower than usual, cloaked in shadows, tinged with a dull red that bled into the dark sky. The air felt heavy, like the whole forest was holding its breath. I stood alone in the clearing, arms wrapped around myself, listening to the silence that pressed in from all sides. Something wasn’t right. Not with the moon. Not with me. I had no words for it, just a gnawing feeling under my skin—like a thousand tiny sparks waiting to ignite. “Lira!” I turned at the sound of my name. Kora’s voice cut through the quiet, loud and urgent. She pushed through the tall grass, face flushed, golden eyes scanning until they landed on me. “There you are,” she exhaled, brushing wild strands of hair from her face. “You’re not supposed to be out here.” “I needed air,” I said, not bothering to lie. “Too many eyes back there.” She frowned, stepping beside me and glancing at the sky. “You see it too, don’t you?” I nodded. “The moon looks... off.” “It’s not
LIRA The Leaders sat in a semi-circle, cloaked in silence, their faces carved from years of experience and sharpened by battles fought long before I was born. The room felt heavier than usual, the flickering torches casting shadows that danced like spirits on the stone walls. I had stood before them before—felt their scrutiny, their judgment—but tonight was different. Tonight, the air crackled with something I couldn’t name. I stood in the center of the chamber, the scent of smoke and old stone clinging to my clothes. My heart pounded beneath my ribs like a war drum, but I kept my chin high. Showing fear would only feed the tension hanging over the room like a thick storm cloud. Beta Orion sat at the far end of the circle, Alpha Tobias’s second-in-command and the acting authority while my father handled trouble at the border. Orion was formidable—tall, broad-shouldered, and a voice that could silence a room with a single word. His dark hair was streaked with silver, but he wore his
CAIUS I’d seen her before. Not in person—not until now—but in my dreams. She was always standing in the center of a storm, hair whipping in the wind, eyes shining like twin moons. Thunder crackled behind her, painting silver lightning across a sky thick with rage and longing. Her figure was always cloaked in shadows, her features obscured by fog, but still, she looked at me. Like she knew me. Like she had always known me. And then she vanished. Every single time. That dream haunted me for the past two weeks—relentless, vivid, maddening. I’d wake in a cold sweat, Fenrir pacing inside me like a caged beast, snarling at the invisible thread we both felt but could not grasp. So when my scout returned with a name—Lira Fenwick—my blood turned to ice. The daughter of Alpha Tobias Fenwick. Of Duskborne. Hidden in plain sight. Protected. Disguised. She wasn’t just a dream. She was real. And the moment I crossed the border into Duskborne territory, her scent struck me like a punch to
LIRA The Alpha’s house stood at the heart of the village like a relic of forgotten power—its wooden walls carved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly beneath the flicker of torchlight. I had passed these steps a thousand times, but tonight, they felt heavier beneath my feet. My stomach twisted with something I couldn’t name—an emotion somewhere between dread and defiance. When I pushed open the doors, the scent of cedar smoke and dried sage clung to the air. My father stood near the hearth, the fire casting shadows across his sharp features. He looked like he was carved from the same stone as the mountain our pack guarded. His silver-streaked hair was tied back in a warrior’s knot, and his arms were folded behind him in a posture of command. He turned the moment I entered. Our eyes—too alike to ignore—locked. “You called for me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” He replied. I didn’t flinch. “I went for a walk.” “You went near th
CAUIS The scent pulled me like a current. Wildflowers after a storm—soft, but impossible to ignore. It was stronger now, more vivid than when I first arrived yesterday. No doubt she was close. No doubt she was mine. I rode in silence through the thicket, five of my best warriors following close behind on foot, every one of them sharp-eyed and silent as shadows. The rest of my men—ten more—were spread across Duskborne territory, blending into the trees as they scouted possible exits, in case this didn’t go as planned. I had been here yesterday. Silent, observing, planning. But that was yesterday. Tonight, I wasn’t kind at all. The treeline broke ahead, and the Duskborne settlement came into view—dark wooden houses cloaked under moonlight, torches flickering weakly against the wind. The Alpha’s home loomed above the others, its shape etched like a scar across the night. I dismounted, boots crunching over the moss-laced path. My warriors remained behind me, alert but still. We weren
LIRA He wasn’t supposed to be real. The stories didn’t do him justice. Caius Vexmoor stood like a shadow carved from moonlight—broad-shouldered, cloaked in black leathers, and dangerous. His presence was a storm wrapped in silence, and his silver eyes… gods, those eyes. Like frost over steel. Cold. Sharp. Unrelenting. But it wasn’t the strength in his stance or the silent power he commanded that shook me. It was the way he looked at me. Like I already belonged to him. “Step back, Lira,” Tobias warned, his voice tight with authority, his stance rigid. I could feel the tension thrumming through him, the way his energy shifted as he stood between us like a wall ready to collapse. But Caius didn’t stop. He took a single step forward—and that one step changed everything. “I won’t repeat myself, Tobias,” he said, voice low, carved from ice and stone. “She comes with me.” My heart kicked hard against my ribs, as if it recognized something my mind couldn’t yet grasp. I tas
MORGANAThe scent of rosemary and dried bloodroot clung to my robes as I pored over the fifth tome of the morning. My fingers trembled—not from age, but from urgency. It had been two days since we discovered the truth.Two days since I learned that Malakar had not merely touched Caius’ mind… but had laced himself into his very shadow.A tether. A slow poison.A curse older than most witches alive today.I hadn’t slept. The fire in my chamber barely flickered anymore, kept alive only by the pulse of my magic and the constant rustling of pages. On the table before me, scrolls lay scattered, ink smudged by my hurried notes. I’d summoned wind spirits for answers. Brewed insight draughts. Called on the ancestors through the Oracle’s Mirror.Nothing had given me what I needed.Because this was no ordinary corruption. Malakar wasn’t just feeding off Caius—he was waiting. Waiting for the right moment to seize full control.And that moment was drawing near.Caius hadn't said much in the last t
CAUISWe scoured the halls until our feet ached and our patience thinned.Every wall, every crack, every space in the packhouse was searched—twice. The talismans Ysara gave us were sensitive, humming lightly in our palms whenever they neared even the faintest trace of cursed energy. But for hours, they offered nothing but silence.Until Kora stopped dead in her tracks."Wait… the old stone hearth," she said, her voice sharp with realization. "The one in the original east wing kitchen. No one uses it anymore, but it's still there."The east wing. Of course.No one cooked there now. The kitchens had been rebuilt on the other side after the fire years ago. But the room remained accessible—used occasionally for storage, sometimes by pups playing hide-and-seek. A forgotten relic of our home’s past.And the perfect place to hide something no one was meant to find.We rushed to the hearth, the talismans growing heavier with each step.As soon as we crossed the threshold, the symbols on the t
MORGANA I didn't walk. I ran. The vision still echoed behind my eyes like lightning that refused to fade. I had no time to waste, no room for caution. I clutched the edge of my cloak and stormed through the halls of Grimhowl, the weight of destiny—and dread—pressing down on my shoulders like an avalanche ready to fall. Caius. Lira. They needed to know what I saw. The future was still uncertain, a thread split in two. One path led to fire, ruin, and death. The other—hope. But both required a choice. A sacrifice. A weapon. And time, we had little of that left. I reached the dining hall, heart thudding in my chest, relief washing over me as I spotted them all inside. Lira stood beside Caius, her hand resting gently on his. Tobias and Thoren sat nearby, deep in conversation with Seraphina and Dain. Deanna and Elowen were seated next to Ronan and Kora, who looked up the moment I entered. Elias stood at the far end, arms crossed, eyes alert. Even the Elders Council had g
MORGANA The moment I stepped out of the war room, scroll clutched tight to my chest, I felt the weight of centuries settle on my shoulders like a cloak spun from memory and magic. The Map of the Bloodseer. I had heard of it in whispers—in forgotten tomes and fragmented chants. A myth, they claimed. A tale told by seers too old to trust and too mad to be believed. But it was real. Right in my hands, pulsing faintly with the tangled threads of fate itself. This could be the turning point in the war. Or a trap we were too desperate to ignore. I moved quickly through Grimhowl’s stone halls, ducking into the small chamber I’d claimed as my study. Candles flared to life with a flick of my fingers. Runes on the walls shimmered, reacting to the old magic now saturating the space. I laid the map out carefully across the old table, heart pounding not with fear—but with urgency. Because this time, it was personal. My hands hovered over the parchment, and I whispered an incan
CAUIS I stood at the head of the hall, my hand resting lightly on the back of Lira’s chair, listening to Ronan speak. His voice echoed just enough to remind us all why we were really here. "Alright, as beautiful as all these long-lost family moments are,” Ronan began, flashing a small grin, “we didn’t come back just to cry and sniff each other’s hair.” A few chuckles rumbled through the hall—Kora rolled her eyes, Seraphina smirked into her cup, and even Tobias cracked a grin. But I could feel the shift in Ronan’s tone even before the humor faded from his face. “We come bearing news from the Village of Enomenos,” he said. Just like that, the air changed. I straightened. “Then we need to meet. We’ll keep this here brief and move to the war room.” “Thoren, Tobias, you and your daughters stay,” I added, catching my mate’s gaze and brushing my fingers across her hand. “You deserve the time to catch up.” “But unfortunately for Elias,” Ronan smirked over his should
ELIAS The warmth of the dining hall clashed with the tension humming beneath my skin. We’d only just returned—Thoren, Ronan, Kora, and I—bringing news from the nearby village. We hadn’t been gone long, but in war, every hour stretched thin. Every moment was weighted. And yet, in the middle of it all, I found myself rooted in place—not by dread, not by urgency—but by a scent. I froze near the entrance, my breath catching. It drifted through the air, cutting through the aromas of roasted meat, earth, and fire. This scent was different. Unmistakable. Fresh rain on wildflowers. Sweet… and wild. Mate. My head snapped toward the far end of the hall. And that’s when I saw her. She stood beside Dain, half-shielded by the curve of his arm. Her gaze was already on me. Wide-eyed. Curious. Like she felt it too. No—she knew. The world narrowed. Sounds dimmed. I took a step forward before I even realized I was moving. My heart thundered in my chest as I closed
SERAPHINA The warmth of familiar arms still lingered on my skin. I was wrapped in it—reunion, laughter, tears. The scent of my mother, the comforting cadence of Tobias’s voice, even Morgana’s sharp, dry wit—it all created a fragile kind of joy, stitched together by disbelief. I was home. Somehow. Even though the walls were different, the ground colder, and the people scarred by what had come before, I was here. After so long, I let myself breathe again. Because suddenly, something cold twisted in my gut. My father. The joy faded from my face like ash on the wind. I turned sharply, searching the faces around me—Tobias, Morgana, Dain. Dain. He stood near the fire, his arms crossed, face half-cast in shadow. “Dain,” I said, stepping forward. “Valenwood… what happened to it? Where’s my father? Is he still—” I couldn’t finish the question. My voice cracked, and the unspoken horrors hung between us like smoke. His jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin l
THOREN Ysara’s words clung to the air like a spell. “Yes, I am a Bloodseer, and only few of us are left. I’m the only one in Enomenos. We are not simply part witch and part wolf—we are two complete souls living as one. One soul bound to the craft of magic, the other to the wildness of the wolf. Balanced. Powerful. But vulnerable to corruption. And once turned, a Bloodseer becomes the perfect servant of darkness.” Her voice held both strength and sorrow. For all her wisdom, there was weight behind every word—weight that had settled into her bones from carrying the burden of truth for far too long. Her gaze drifted across the room, landing briefly on Kora, then Ronan, and finally me. “That is why I remain hidden,” she continued. “I'd rather die righteous than live twisted. But these people…” she gestured subtly to the villagers gathered in the shadows, “they need me. So I walk a thin edge.”I swallowed hard, the scent of smoke and ancient herbs thick in the cavern air. The fir
THOREN The girl’s name was Elianna. A quiet strength pulsed in her steps as she led us deeper into the woods, through a narrow trail flanked by thick underbrush and twisting roots that reached like hands from the forest floor. The silence of the village had followed us, replaced now by the occasional crackle of twigs and the distant hoot of an owl, despite the sun still shining overhead. Ronan walked close, eyes scanning the shadows. Elias brought up the rear, her steps light but cautious, her hand never far from the hilt of her dagger. The rest of our warriors followed closely behind. Eventually, Elianna paused in front of a large outcropping of moss-covered stone. She placed her hand on its surface, whispering something in a tongue I didn’t recognize. The stone shimmered, then split down the center with a soft groan, revealing a narrow entrance, just large enough for one person at a time to slip through. "After you," she said, offering a small smile. Inside, the passage wa