Elenas pov The training yard was a wide slab of packed earth tucked between the mountain’s inner cliffs, hidden by thick walls of stone and snow. Once used for quarrying, now it held something more valuable than stone. Hope. And chaos. “Back straight, Lior!” I barked, watching the younger boy nearly trip over his own feet as he attempted a basic sword stance. “Yes, ma’am!” he yelped, wobbling back into position. Beside me, Lykan stood with arms crossed, expression unreadable but I could tell he was fighting a smirk. “This isn’t a parade,” he called out to the rebels. “If you stumble out there, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll be dead before your blade clears its sheath.” That sobered most of them. We had nearly fifty rebels lined up in makeshift groups. Some held weapons others had nothing but sticks or old training spears. Most had never seen real combat, let alone survived a war. But they would. Because we would make them ready. Lykan walked forward, posture comma
Elenas pov The walk from the hut to the main chamber felt heavier than it should have. Not because I was afraid. But because what came next would change everything. Lykan walked beside me in silence, cloak draped over his shoulders, his presence commanding even in stillness. He didn’t need to speak. The way the rebels parted as we passed and the way the air shifted told me enough. They felt him. And they knew. Whispers stirred like wind through dry leaves as we entered the central chamber. A long hollowed-out space carved beneath the mountain, its walls lit by glowing stones and torchlight, its floor worn smooth by rebellion after rebellion. But this one would be the last. Mira was already there, standing near the center of the gathering. Around her were the key rebel fighters, scouts, and elders eyes wide, voices low. Every person turned to us the moment we stepped through the threshold. And the room went silent. I let go of Lykan’s hand. Not because I wanted to. Becau
Elenas pov Lykan, being by my side, gave me strength. A different kind of strength. Not the raw, raging fire I’d been holding onto since the rebellion started but something steadier. Calmer. Like a heartbeat, I’d forgotten how much I needed. And maybe that’s why when I tried to slip out to address the rebels again, he caught my wrist. “You’re not going,” he said softly, but firmly. I blinked up at him, surprised. “What do you mean? They’re waiting. We planned this ” “You’ve been carrying them on your back since this started,” he said, his eyes holding mine. “Planning. Fighting. Starving. You’ve earned the right to breathe for one damn second, Elena.” My chest tightened. I wasn’t used to someone telling me to stop. To rest. To not bleed for everyone else. “I can’t,” I whispered. “If I stop, even for a moment, I’ll lose my momentum. They need me—” “They need you alive,” Lykan cut in. “Not burnt out. Not half a shadow of yourself. They need their queen well and fine.” He st
Lykans pov She closed the door behind us. It was quiet inside the small, cracked stone home. A thin rug covered the frozen floor. There was no furniture, just a bed that looked like it was going to fall apart, some worn blankets, and a rusted lantern hanging from a beam. The walls looked like they were made of scraps, wood, stone, and bits of cloth stitched together to keep the cold out. Elena stood across from me, arms crossed. Her face was unreadable now, the calm she wore outside slipping just a little. “What is it?” I didn’t answer immediately. I looked around the room again. Then I looked at her. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” She raised a brow. “What did you expect?” “I didn’t expect luxury,” I said. “But gods, Elena… this? This is how they’ve been living? Like rats shoved underground?” She said nothing, but her gaze fell to the floor. I stepped closer, voice low and rough. “How long have they lived like this?” Her fingers curled around her arms. “Years. Since
Lykans pov “Lykan?” she whispered, her voice trembling against the night. My name on her lips, gods, I’d dreamt of it, begged the moon for it, fought through death and blood just to hear it one more time. I loosened my grip slowly, but I didn’t let her go. Not yet. I couldn’t. Our eyes locked. And the world stopped. Even with her mask covering half her face, I knew every inch of her. That violet gaze, blazing with disbelief. Her scent wrapped around me again like home, like fire, like everything I thought I’d lost. “Elena,” I breathed. “You’re real. You’re here.” She stared up at me, stunned, lips parting like she wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. So I did the only thing that made sense. I kissed her. Not gently. Not cautiously. Desperately. She didn’t pull away. She melted into me like she’d been waiting, aching, burning for this moment just as much as I had. Her hands fisted the front of my cloak, and I felt the bond surge between us like
Elena’s pov The sunlight reflected in my eyes as I stepped into the fields, squinting against the glare. It was one of those rare mornings when the clouds hadn’t covered the sky, and the sun dared to shine down on the mountain’s shadowed valley. But even in the warmth of its rays, the weight of where we stood never left. The rest of the pack was scattered across the frozen fields, harvesting with stiff fingers and silent mouths. Their faces were drawn tight with exhaustion, backs bent in rhythm to a routine that had long since turned their bodies into machines. They moved quietly, always watching. The ever-present guards stood at the perimeter, spears in hand, eyes hard. But I saw it. The shift. The whispers. The way some glanced at me now was not in fear, but in anticipation. Because the rebellion had started. And the town was bleeding from the inside. It wouldn’t be long now. I walked through the rows, Mira trailing slightly behind me as we passed groups of Moirea prete
Lykans pov The air grew still. Too still. Even the wind dared not move in this part of the forest. Sylvester halted at the base of a narrow trail carved through two huge rocks, its end lost behind a veil of mist. We had passed ancient ruins, fought through the witches, and survived the illusions that tested our minds. But this… this was different. It was quiet. Too quiet. I could hear the blood in my ears, the breath in my lungs. Everyone else was silent, too. That’s when I saw it. A narrow ledge spiralled up the side of a cliff, no wider than a man’s shoulder. Below, it stretched a deep ravine, not black, not empty, but filled with something that made my stomach twist. Water. Or at least… what looked like water. Thick. Crimson. Glowing faintly like it breathed. A pool of blood. Literal or not, I didn’t know. But the stench, metallic, ancient clawed its way up the cliffside like a hand reaching for us. Dominic stepped forward, his brows drawn. “What the hell is th
Elena’s pov The cold felt… wrong.The night feels wrong. Not the sharp, biting chill I was used to in the Nytherra mountains. This cold was thick. Heavy. Like it had weight. Like it had intent.I blinked, and suddenly I wasn’t in my room.Stone and torchlight were gone.The underground chambers. The rebels. Mira. All of it… gone.I stood in a forest of bones.The trees were spires of blackened ribcages. The roots writhed like veins in the ground. The sky was the color of dried blood, no stars, only a heavy red moon that pulsed like a heart. I didn’t move.I couldn’t.Not out of fear, but because I recognized the power curling around this place.It wasn’t Nytherran.It was older. Hungrier. And more dangerous. “I’ve been watching you,” a voice cooed from behind.I turned slowly.She stood there barefoot on the twisted bone roots. Her form constantly shifted woman, shadow, flame, rot. Her hair floated around her like smoke, and her eyes were voids that bled darkness.The Blood Witch.
Elenas pov The wind howled through the canyons, dry and sharp, laced with ash from the pine trees above. But inside the mountain — the heart of Nytherra — the silence had begun to rot. Not a silence of peace. The silence of fear. Of whispers that traveled faster than footsteps. Of rebellions born in the shadows. We had lit the first match. Now the fire was spreading. I stood at the mouth of one of the rebel tunnels, watching as Mira passed down sacks to two younger rebels. Their eyes were wide with purpose, faces covered in soot to mask their scent. They moved quickly — just as planned. No hesitation. No fear. Only fire in their veins. “They’ll hit the north granary by dawn,” Mira whispered to me as she adjusted the blade strapped to her thigh. “That will be our third successful hit this week. Soon, they’ll start noticing.” “They already have,” I said quietly. Because the signs were everywhere. Ration lines stretched twice as long. Children went to bed hungr