Chapter 3: The Taste of Ash

While the Blackwood Ravine hummed with the silent, industrious energy of a rising kingdom, the Silver Crest Manor was drowning in a cacophony of confusion and fear. From my seat upon a throne of obsidian rock, I closed my eyes, letting my consciousness slip through the tether I still held over the land. I didn't need to be there to see it; I could feel the decay.

In the Great Hall, the warmth had vanished. The enchanted hearths, which had burned for generations fueled by the Alpha’s "blessing," were now sputtering, emitting only a thin, foul-smelling gray smoke.

Jace, my silent ghost, was perched high in the vaulted rafters, his breathing so shallow it wouldn't even stir a cobweb. Through his eyes, I saw the chaos below.

Fenris stood at the head of the long oak table, his knuckles white as he slammed his fists onto the wood. "I want an explanation! Now!"

The Pack’s lead surveyor trembled, clutching a handful of dead soil. "Alpha, it makes no sense. The border patrols report that the grass is turning to ash beneath their paws. The livestock are refusing to eat, and the southern well… it’s turned to brine."

"It’s a curse," a woman whispered from the back of the room. "The moon has turned its back on us."

"Silence!" Fenris roared, his wolf’s dominance rippling through the air. But for the first time in history, the ripple felt weak. It didn't make the people bow in terror; it only made them shiver. The source of his strength—the vitality of the land—was being siphoned away by my every heartbeat.

Bella sat beside him, still wearing my midnight-blue silk dress. But the fabric no longer shimmered. It looked dull, stained by the soot from the dying fires. She reached up to touch the silver locket around her neck—my mother’s locket—and let out a sharp cry.

"It’s hot!" she gasped, clawing at the silver.

Beneath the metal, her skin was blistering. The locket, a vessel of my mother’s true lineage, was rejecting the thief. To the rest of the world, it was a piece of jewelry; to a daughter of the Primordial White Wolf, it was a living seal. And right now, it was branding her with the mark of a traitor.

"Take it off then!" Fenris snapped, his patience fraying. He turned back to the surveyor. "Where is Elora? Find that useless girl. She knows the storerooms better than anyone. Tell her to quit hiding and start rationing the winter grain."

Jace, from his perch, let out a silent, toothy grin. I felt his amusement echo in my mind.

"She’s gone, Alpha," the surveyor stammered. "Her room is empty. Even her servant’s tunic was left behind, shredded on the floor."

"She wouldn't survive a night in the woods," Bella hissed, her face contorted in pain as she finally managed to rip the locket off, throwing it onto the table. "She’s probably a meal for the rogues by now."

"She didn't just leave," the surveyor added, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "She was seen at the ravine. And she wasn't alone. Thane was with her. The Shadow Beta."

The name hit the room like a physical blow. Thane was a myth of terror in the Silver Crest Pack—the man who walked in the dark, the one they thought they had broken.

Fenris’s eyes turned a predatory gold. "Thane? He was supposed to be in the dungeons, awaiting execution."

"He broke his chains, Alpha," Jace whispered into the rafters, though no one below could hear him. "And he’s not the only one."

Back in the Ravine, I opened my eyes. The cold fire in my veins was no longer a hum; it was a symphony. Beside me, Kaelen was meticulously grinding a mixture of dried nightshade and iron-filings.

"They are starting to realize," I said, my voice echoing off the damp stone walls.

"Let them realize," Kaelen replied, not looking up from his work. "Knowledge is a slow poison. By tomorrow, the hunger will set in. By the end of the week, the Alpha’s warriors will be too weak to shift. A wolf cannot hunt when its spirit is starving."

Thane entered the chamber, his boots echoing with a heavy, purposeful rhythm. He carried a bundle of dark fur—a cloak made from the pelts of the shadow-stalkers that roamed the Ravine. He draped it over my shoulders, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary on the skin of my neck.

"The first outpost has fallen," Thane reported, his voice low and raspy. "Not to blades, but to the forest itself. The trees have moved to block the northern pass. They are trapped in their own valley, Elora."

"Good," I said, standing up. The shadow-fur cloak felt heavier and warmer than the silk dress ever had. "They spent nineteen years telling me I was a shadow. Now, I will give them a world where shadows are all they have left."

I walked to the edge of the Ravine, looking out over the misty expanse. Somewhere out there, the Silver Crest Pack was realizing that the "nothing" girl had been the only thing keeping the sun in their sky.

I reached out my hand, and a small, white wolf made of pure frost crystallized in the air above my palm. It let out a silent howl before dissipating into the wind, carrying my command to the very roots of the earth.

"Chapter three is closed," I whispered to the night. "The winter has only just begun."