Bound in Silver Flames

Eira’s POV

Moonlight spilled over Crescent Fang territory like molten silver, tracing every branch and stone with a soft, eerie glow. Even the air felt charged tonight—thick with the restless hum of approaching storms and approaching alphas.

The training ring was tense enough to snap.

Two warriors circled each other, breaths ragged, dirt kicking up beneath their feet. Both bristled with frustration, tempers flaring hotter than the torches burning along the ring’s edge. A crowd had gathered, sensing the moment before a brawl breaks into something uglier.

Before either could lunge, I stepped straight between them.

“Enough,” I said—not loud, but firm enough to root them to the earth.

The bigger warrior halted mid-stride, blinking. “He shoved me.”

“And you threatened to bite him,” I replied, arching a brow. “Which is impressive, considering he’s twice as fast as you.”

A ripple of laughter broke across the watching crowd—pressure bleeding off, tempers cooling. Shoulders eased. No one moved to fight anymore.

That was the part of me everyone understood.

The part that soothed.

The part my father called my Luna nature, even though I wasn’t Luna. Not yet. Maybe never. But peace came when I stepped into chaos, and the pack felt it whether they realized why or not.

He would have gone for the throat, Veyla murmured inside my head, her voice like wind over ancient stone.

“I know,” I whispered back.

I’d gotten her early. Too early. Fourteen wasn’t an age a wolf awakened—it was barely more than childhood. But Veyla had come with the force of a storm, a howl echoing with centuries.

Her presence was power and her existence was a secret.

Only my parents and two elders knew. If other alphas learned of an ancient wolf bound to an Alpha’s daughter? Blood would soak the mountain ranges. Packs would fall. Entire territories would turn to ash.

“Eira!” my father called, striding toward the ring.

He wore authority like armor—broad, commanding, a man the mountains themselves seemed to lean toward. I met him halfway, brushing dirt from my hands.

“You stopped a fight,” he said, pride flickering in his eyes… then fading into something sharper. “But you also humiliated our Alpha-in-training in front of the warriors.”

“He was going to tear someone’s arm off.”

“That was his mistake to correct. Not yours.” His tone lowered, edged with worry. “Strength is not always meant to be shown. Especially not yours. Not now.”

A familiar frustration burned in my chest—but so did fear. He was right. One wrong flare of power, one hint of Veyla slipping through, and everything we’d spent years building would crumble.

“My birthday is next month,” I said quietly. “I’ll be eighteen. I’ll be allowed to stand beside you at the Summit.”

“And you will,” he said. “But carefully. Silently. And with every part of your wolf locked away.”

Before I could reply, a deep horn boomed across the valley—low, resonant, vibrating through bone and earth.

The Summit caravans had reached our borders.

Veyla stirred, sending a pulse of heat through my veins, like silver flames licking beneath my ribs.

He comes, she whispered.

I didn’t know who she meant.

Not yet.

But I felt the first twist of fate tightening like a snare.