Chapter 3 - Eira

Eira’s POV

The Summit Hall was a converted lodge—massive timber beams, floor-to-ceiling windows, and enough surveillance tech embedded in the walls to rival a small government facility. The glow of touchscreen panels reflected off the polished stone floors, and every Alpha wore a Bluetooth earpiece linking them to their outside security teams.

The air hummed with stress, dominance, and thinly veiled distrust.

I stood beside my father as pack leaders argued quietly, their voices overlapping like sparring wolves.

But I wasn’t listening to them.

I was listening to Veyla.

He is here. The other half. The line that binds to ours.

“Stop saying things like that,” I muttered under my breath.

My father shot me a sharp look, but I pretended to be adjusting my jacket. My phone buzzed with Summit updates, but my mind was stuck on the moment Kalen Draven stepped out of his SUV.

That heat.

That crackle.

Those impossible silver flames licking beneath my skin.

I hated that he’d noticed.

Worse—I hated that he hadn’t looked away first.

A chime sounded. The Alpha Council stepped onto the raised dais.

Every conversation died instantly.

Elder Myrien approached the podium with a tablet in one hand and a weathered scroll in the other—the scroll drawing whispers from older wolves.

No one touched those unless it was serious.

“Tonight,” Myrien said, voice amplified through hidden speakers, “we reopen the Prophecy of the Silver Veil.”

I stiffened.

Of course.

Of course fate would choose NOW.

The hall vibrated with tension.

“This prophecy speaks of a flame,” Myrien continued, eyes scanning the room, “one born too early, carrying an ancient wolf not seen in centuries.”

I fought to breathe evenly.

Veyla stirred under my skin.

They speak of you.

“Rumours claim such a wolf exists again,” Myrien said. “And if so, the balance of our world may fracture.”

Kalen’s gaze cut to me across the hall.

Sharp. Intuitive. Too knowing.

And that same strange heat shimmered in the air, invisible to everyone else.

My memories rushed forward unbidden—

Four years ago.

I was on a school camping trip deep in Crescent Fang’s training range. The others slept in their tents, but I couldn’t relax. The night felt too alive.

Then—

A voice inside my mind.

Not a whisper.

A presence.

Eira Thornwind.

I froze.

My flashlight flickered. The world dimmed. A surge of heat raced up my spine.

Do not run, the voice said.

You are waking.

I dropped the flashlight. My phone’s screen lit up as I collapsed to my knees. My chest burned—silver, hot, blinding. A shape—massive, ancient—moved through my mind like a shadow tearing into light.

I am Veyla, she said.

And you are the first flame.

I screamed.

Everything went white.

My father found me minutes later, shaking, barely conscious. He made me swear to silence before I’d even regained my breath.

Back in the Summit Hall—

Myrien’s voice sliced through my thoughts.

“The first flame cannot survive alone. It must be bound.”

Bound.

My pulse stuttered.

Bound… to what?

Or who?

Kalen’s eyes darkened across the hall—wolf-bright and intense.

Veyla whispered with unsettling certainty:

To him.

And suddenly, nothing in my life felt safe.

Not my pack.

Not my secret.

Not my future.

Because prophecy had found us.

And it didn’t care who burned.