CHAPTER 13

Morning came not with warmth, but with warning.

Aria sat hunched over the edge of her bedroll, knees pulled to her chest, the fire inside her banked but restless. The ghost of her mother’s voice still hadn’t answered, and the stars had offered no comfort. Only silence.

The camp had shifted again.

Tension was a fog that clung to the ground, curling through boot steps, conversations, and even breakfast. Something was coming, Aria could feel it. Like the pull of the moon before the tide crashes in.

She stepped out of her tent to a wall of eyes. Not hostile exactly, but not welcoming either. More like… weighing her.

Still here, they seemed to say. Still standing.

Nessa skipped up to her with a warm biscuit wrapped in a napkin. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” Aria said softly, taking the biscuit anyway.

Nessa lowered her voice. “They’re calling a full rogue council. Noon. By the fire ring.”

Aria froze. “Why?”

Nessa hesitated. “You know why.”

Of course she did.

They had whispered the word since the moment the third trial ended.

Prophecy.

And power.

And the more dangerous one… fear.

She found Kael near the training rings, overseeing a pair of young rogues sparring. His arms were crossed, but his shoulders weren’t as rigid as usual. He looked almost... tired.

“Can we talk?” Aria asked.

He didn’t look at her. “After the council.”

“Kael…”

He finally turned, but there was distance in his eyes. “You’ve done what you came to do. Now the camp has to decide if that’s enough.”

Her chest tightened. “Are you deciding too?”

Something flickered across his face… guilt or reluctance, she couldn’t tell.

“It’s not about what I want.”

She laughed bitterly. “Isn’t it always?”

But Kael was already walking away.

By noon, the fire ring was crowded. Rough benches carved from fallen trees lined the circle. Smoke curled from the center pit, rising like a serpent into the midday sky.

The elders sat like old gods, cloaked, grizzled, faces weathered by wind and war.

Kael stood at the center. Silent.

Aria was summoned last.

Her footsteps echoed too loud as she approached the circle. Whispers fell like snow behind her.

She stood before them but not with Kael, not behind him, but alone.

Rogan, the oldest of the elders, stood slowly. He had a voice like gravel and eyes like flint.

“We’ve spilled blood to keep this camp hidden. We’ve buried brothers and sisters in shallow graves, never given the time to mourn. And now we shelter the daughter of a traitor. A Silverborn with powers none of us understand.”

The silence after his words was sharper than steel.

Another elder, Kira. tall, with silver-streaked braids spoke up next. “She passed all three trials.”

Rogan growled. “So did Kael. And we know what that cost us.”

Kael’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

Aria stood still, heart pounding. Her mouth was dry, but she refused to flinch.

“She hasn’t betrayed us,” Kira argued.

“Not yet,” Rogan snapped.

Another elder, a quiet man named Farin, leaned forward. “What is the prophecy, truly? And why should it matter to rogues who’ve survived without fate for decades?”

Kael finally spoke. “Because the Council knows about her. Because if we turn her away, she won’t die quietly. And when they find her body, they’ll come looking for who helped her burn.”

That shut everyone up.

Rogan’s voice dropped, lower now. “So she’s a weapon.”

“No,” Kael said, but not strongly. “She’s a choice.”

Rogan turned to Aria. “Do you have anything to say?”

She met his gaze without blinking. “I didn’t ask for this power. I didn’t ask to be born with it, or to lose my mother, or to be marked by something I don’t understand. But I’ve fought for this camp. I’ve bled for it. And if I’m going to be judged… let it be for what I’ve done, not for what you fear I might become.”

A low murmur rippled through the circle.

Rogan raised a hand to silence it.

“Then we vote,” he said.

Aria’s breath caught.

Kira stood. “One night. Give her until dawn to prove herself.”

Rogan frowned. “And if she doesn’t?”

“She leaves.”

Kael said nothing.

Didn’t argue.

Didn’t fight.

And that… hurt more than anything.

Aria swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

Rogan looked at her like a judge. “One night. You prove your place, or you walk alone.”

The fire crackled between them.

Decision sealed.

She didn’t go to Kael after.

She couldn’t.

He didn’t defend her.

Didn’t stop the vote.

Maybe he thought she didn’t need saving.

Maybe he was right.

But that didn’t make the ache go away.

She sat by the stream where they’d first spoken, skipping stones into the slow current. Her reflection shimmered in the water, older than yesterday. Wiser than she wanted to be.

Corin found her there.

He didn’t ask questions. Just dropped beside her and offered a pouch of dried fruit.

“I heard,” he said.

“Of course you did.”

“You okay?”

“No.”

Corin nodded. “That’s fair.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Aria whispered, “What if I fail?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know what it looks like when someone gives up. That’s not you.”

She looked at him. “What if it becomes me?”

He met her gaze and didn’t blink. “Then I’ll carry you until you find yourself again.”

It was the kindest thing anyone had ever said to her.

A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

Corin didn’t speak again. Just offered her presence like a shield.

And that, too, was enough.

That night, the camp was restless.

People whispered as Aria passed. Some wished her luck. Others avoided her altogether. One rogue handed her a blade with no words.

It felt like walking toward execution.

Near the edge of camp, Nessa met her with wide, worried eyes.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” she whispered.

Aria crouched, brushing a hand over the girl’s messy hair. “Not unless I have to.”

Nessa pressed a tiny carved rabbit into her palm. “For luck.”

Aria tucked it into her belt and tried not to cry again.

The moon rose high, casting silver over everything. The campfire was brighter than usual, everyone waiting to see what the Silverborn would do.

Aria stood in the center of camp.

Alone again.

But this time… not empty.

Her voice rose, strong and steady. “I don’t have a war story. I don’t have an army. But I know what it is to fight when no one else believes in you. I know what it means to build trust from ash.”

She lit a small flame in her palm.

It glowed gold. Soft. Not burning.

“I won’t force you to follow me. But I won’t run either. If I leave, it will be because you turned away.”

Then she closed her hand.

And the flame died.

Silence again.

Until Kira stepped forward.

And placed a hand on Aria’s shoulder.

Then Farin.

Then a young rogue with a missing eye.

Then… Kael.

He didn’t say anything.

Just looked at her with something unreadable.

But his hand on her shoulder said enough.

She wasn’t alone.

Not anymore.

Rogan remained seated, unmoved. Then finally stood, cloak billowing behind him.

“This changes nothing,” he said coldly. “The prophecy hasn’t finished unfolding. And when it does, we’ll all bleed for it.”

Then he walked into the night.

Aria watched him go, pulse still racing.

Because somewhere deep inside her… she knew he was right.

The storm hadn’t passed.

It had just begun to gather.

The fire dwindled to embers. One by one, the crowd dissolved into the quiet dark, some nodding toward Aria with a mix of respect and unease, others offering nothing but stiff silence as they slipped away into the night.

Still, she stood unmoving in the center of camp.

Rogan’s words echoed like a curse in her bones:

“The prophecy hasn’t finished unfolding. And when it does, we’ll all bleed for it.”

The warmth of Kael’s hand was gone now. He hadn’t said a word. Just touched her shoulder, brief and silent, then disappeared into the shadows like smoke.

She didn’t go after him this time.

She was too tired to chase ghosts in the dark.

Too raw to beg again.

Instead, she sank to the ground beside the fire ring, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as the last flames hissed and cracked. Her fingers curled around the small rabbit charm Nessa had pressed into her palm. The wood was smooth, a little singed at the ears.

Proof I survived.

But surviving wasn’t the same as belonging.

“Mind if I sit?”

She looked up, surprised. Corin. Leaning slightly on a staff, eyes alert despite the late hour. There was always something grounded in him. Like the earth itself bent to support him.

“Sure,” she murmured, scooting aside on the log.

He sat without another word, offering her half a dried plum from his pouch. She took it, chewing slowly. The sweetness tasted like relief.

“They voted for you,” he said after a long silence. “But some of them still hope you’ll fail.”

Aria let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“Rogan especially. He’s old blood. Follows tradition like a religion.”

“And tradition says exile the freak?”

“Tradition says fear what you don’t understand.” He paused. “But it also says protect those who survive the trials.”

She blinked. “So I’m both?”

Corin nodded. “A danger. And a symbol.”

She groaned, pressing her forehead to her knees. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But neither did Kael.”

Her heart twisted at the name. “He didn’t even speak. Not really. He stood there like I wasn’t worth the fight.”

Corin’s voice was careful now. “He’s trying to be Alpha first. Everything else comes second. Even the things he wants.”

Aria raised her head. “What about what I want?”

Corin hesitated. “Do you know what that is?”

Her throat bobbed. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

He gave a small smile. “That’s the first honest answer I’ve heard all day.”

They sat like that until the last flame sighed out.

And for a moment… she wasn’t a prophecy.

Just a girl sitting in the dark, trying to find herself in the ashes.

The next morning was cloud-heavy and tense.

Maela thrust a bowl of soup into Aria’s hands before she could even greet her.

“Eat fast. The elders expect you at the forge.”

“The forge?” Aria blinked.

Maela’s eyes narrowed. “You think last night’s mercy was a victory? It was a delay. You’re under watch now.”

Aria frowned. “So what, I have to earn my place every sunrise?”

Maela gave a humorless smile. “Welcome to being powerful.”

Aria finished her soup in silence, then headed toward the forge, where heat kissed the air long before she arrived.

Inside, two rogue blacksmiths worked without pause, metal clanging, sparks flying. In the corner, a young woman sharpened arrows while humming softly.

And at the back stood Rogan.

Of course.

He barely looked up as she approached. “You’re late.”

“I wasn’t told a time,” Aria replied.

He handed her a set of gloves. “Then consider this your first lesson. You wait on the camp. It does not wait on you.”

She swallowed her irritation and took the gloves.

For the next two hours, she helped shape arrowheads, haul buckets of water, and stack supplies. Rogan barely acknowledged her existence except to bark orders or correct her grip. Her shoulders ached. Her palms stung.

But she kept going.

Not because of pride.

Because of spite.

If they wanted her broken, she’d burn brighter.

By midday, the forge quieted.

Rogan finally spoke. “You have strength.”

Aria didn’t answer. She was too tired to parse the insult or compliment.

He glanced at her. “But you don’t know how to lead.”

Her lips pressed tight. “I didn’t ask to lead.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He tossed a cloth at her. “You’ll either become the kind of leader wolves follow… or the kind they bury.”

She stared at him. “And which do you think I’ll be?”

Rogan’s smile was slow, cold. “We’ll see.”

Outside, the camp pulsed with life. Scouts returned with news from the north. Hunters cleaned their catch near the kitchens. A group of children darted through the tents, laughing and hollering with wooden sticks raised like swords.

Aria paused beside the healer’s tent, stretching her sore arms. That’s when she saw it… Kael and Kira, standing beneath a tree, voices low.

He looked… different today. Still rigid, still brooding, but something about his shoulders seemed more tense than usual.

She couldn’t hear the conversation, but Kira handed him a scroll. His jaw tightened as he read it.

And then… his eyes snapped up.

Right to Aria.

Their gazes locked.

He didn’t move.

But he didn’t look away either.

Not even when Kira gently touched his arm and spoke again.

Aria’s stomach twisted.

A second later, Kael broke away and stalked toward her.

She braced herself. “Another assignment?”

“No,” he said shortly. “We need to talk.”

Her pulse kicked up. “About what?”

He held up the scroll. “This.”

She followed him into the war tent, heart hammering.

Once inside, he unrolled the parchment on the table. It was stamped with the Silverpine seal… broken, as if someone had intercepted it.

Her blood ran cold.

“Where did you get this?”

“Scouts found it near the border. Tied to a raven.”

He pointed to the bottom, where elegant script scrawled a chilling message:

“To the rogue Alpha and his flame-blooded shadow…

You cannot outrun blood.

You cannot deny prophecy.

We are coming.”

It wasn’t signed.

But the handwriting was familiar.

Aria stepped back, whispering, “Rhys.”

Kael nodded. “He knows you’re here.”

Her throat tightened. “Then we don’t have much time.”

Kael looked at her for a long moment. “That’s what I came to say.”

She expected him to leave then, to vanish like he always did.

But he didn’t.

He stayed.

“I didn’t speak for you last night,” he said, voice low. “Because I needed to know if you’d still stand.”

She blinked. “And?”

He looked at her like he was seeing something new.

“You didn’t fall.”

Their silence stretched.

The air between them was charged again… tense, uncertain, but laced with something raw.

“What now?” she whispered.

Kael stepped closer. “Now… you train. You listen. And you survive.”

“And you?” she asked, breath shallow.

His voice dropped, almost a growl. “I protect what’s mine.”

Aria’s heart thudded, uncertain.

“I’m not yours.”

Kael’s eyes flickered with heat. “Aren’t you?”

Before she could answer, a horn blared from the edge of camp.

A warning.

Both of them turned, instincts flaring.

Aria didn’t wait.

She bolted for her gear.

Because whatever this day had planned…

It wasn’t over yet.

A rogue messenger stumbled into camp, blood dripping from a gash at his side. “They’re close,” he rasped. “Silverpine scouts… less than a mile out.”

Aria met Kael’s eyes.

And for once, they didn’t look away.

War was coming.