Ch. 2: The Mark Beneath the Skin

Kaelira didn’t remember deciding to run—only the thunder of her pulse and the burn of pine needles slicing her feet as she tore through the forest. One heartbeat ago, King Zevran’s shadow-creatures had lunged from the trees; now she was sprinting toward the sound of screaming.

The scent of silver hit first: sharp, electric, wrong.

Taren.

He knelt in the clearing, shoulders jerking as if his own veins were trying to crawl away from him. Silver wire coiled tight around his forearm, glowing with small runes that pulsed like living eyes.

“Don’t—” he gasped when he saw her. “They said not to—”

Kaelira dropped beside him, already reaching. “Who did this?”

“Hunters,” he stammered. “S-said it would stop the— stop the turning—”

His words broke into a strangled cry. The wire’s symbols flared white-hot, racing up his arm. Smoke rose where metal met skin.

The smell was unbearable—burning flesh mixed with something older, darker, like scorched magic.

“Breathe,” she said, though her own voice trembled. “You’re going to be fine.”

He wasn’t.

Kaelira grasped the wire, ignoring the hiss as it bit into her palms. Pain crackled up her arms; every nerve screamed. Silver was poison to wolves—but she’d never been only wolf, had she?

Shift, her wolf, Ardyn, urged from inside her mind. Let me break it.

Not yet. Kaelira clenched her teeth. She’d already risked enough for this boy—risked lying to her Alpha, risked catching the Lycan King’s eye. But watching someone die because no one else dared try? That was a risk she could live with.

“Stop.”

The voice cut through the clearing like a blade drawn in moonlight.

King Zevran stood at the edge of the trees, his cloak dragging shadows with it. His silver eyes gleamed, unblinking. “Do not touch him. That is a binding wire. It will mark you.”

Kaelira glared over her shoulder. “Then help me!”

Zevran’s expression didn’t change. “He is already lost.”

Rage flared bright and hot, drowning the pain in her hands. “You’re the King. Save him.”

He stepped closer, silent as falling snow. “I protect the living, not the dead.”

“Then we’ll see who’s which,” she snapped—and pulled.

Light exploded.

The wire shrieked as though alive. Symbols burned across her skin, searing her nerves open. For a heartbeat she saw every rune as a word—something ancient, forbidden. Her blood answered them, gold sparks flashing through the silver. And then, with a scream that didn’t sound human, the wire broke.

Taren collapsed, breathing shallowly but alive.

Kaelira staggered backward, palms smoking.

Zevran was suddenly there, catching her wrists before she fell. His fingers were ice and lightning all at once. When her eyes met his, the world stopped.

A sigil—two crescents circling a flame—flared between their joined hands. It pulsed once, twice, then sank beneath her skin like ink drawn into water.

Kaelira tore free. “What did you—”

Zevran’s gaze sharpened. “Who bound you?”

“I’m not bound.”

“You are. I can feel it.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Witch’s magic buried under wolf’s blood. Who is your mother? Who sealed it?”

“My mother’s dead,” Kaelira said flatly. “If she sealed anything, she took the reasons with her.”

Zevran’s jaw tightened. “Your blood disrupted a Dominion curse. That shouldn’t be possible.”

“I’ll add it to the list of things that shouldn’t be,” she muttered.

Behind them, Taren stirred. His breathing hitched but steadied. Kaelira dropped beside him, relief spilling out in a shaky laugh. He was still here. That was enough.

Zevran crouched across from her, studying the unconscious boy. “You realize you’ve made him my responsibility.”

She looked up. “You mean your problem.”

“Same thing.”

Their eyes locked again—challenge against control, fire against moonlight.

Neither looked away.

A sound shattered the tension: a horn, deep and guttural, echoing through the forest. Zevran’s soldiers. Kaelira recognized the rhythm—three blasts, pause, one. Border breach. Danger.

Zevran rose in a blur of motion. “They’ve crossed into the Hollow.”

Kaelira stood too, helping Taren to his feet. “Then you’ll need me.”

“I don’t need—”

“Save the speech. You said it yourself—I’m already marked.”

For the first time, the King looked almost uncertain. Then his mouth curved, the faintest ghost of a smile. “You talk too much.”

“And you brood too well,” she shot back.

The ground trembled.

A shape peeled itself from the shadows—taller than a wolf, thinner than a man, made of smoke that bled silver light. It screamed, and the runes carved into the nearby stones flared to life.

Zevran shifted without warning, the change smooth as water. One moment a man, the next a creature of muscle and night, silver eyes blazing. His aura slammed into Kaelira like gravity made flesh.

Now, Ardyn howled inside her.

Kaelira’s bones cracked, her body folding into fur and fury. She and the Lycan King hit the creature from opposite sides, teeth and claws tearing through darkness. The thing dissolved into mist—then re-formed behind her, claws slicing air.

Zevran’s snarl rolled like thunder. His jaws clamped around the creature’s throat, crushing it until it burst apart into ash.

Silence.

Only the hiss of dying runes.

Kaelira shifted back, gasping. Her body trembled with exhaustion, but her pulse thrummed electric. Zevran stood over the creature’s remains, still half-shifted, moonlight dripping from his fur.

“This is why he’s mine,” he said, voice distorted by his fangs. “This infection spreads.”

Kaelira glanced at Taren, at the faint glow still threading his veins. “Then we stop it.”

Zevran turned toward her, silver gaze meeting gold. “We will. But it seems I’m also hunting the secret your mother died to keep.”

Kaelira wiped blood from her lips, chin high. “And I’ll be hunting the ones hiding behind your crown.”

He bared his teeth in something not quite a smile. “Careful, little wolf. Even crowns bite.”

He turned toward the border stones, his aura rippling through the air.

Kaelira followed, dragging Taren with her.

And that was how she left her forest—chasing a boy, a secret, and a king she was certain she should hate.