Willow sat in the cold, damp cell, her back pressed against the stone wall.
The air smelled of mildew and blood—her own, she realized distantly. The cuffs around her wrists had bitten into her skin from her earlier attempts to break free. She wasn’t fighting anymore. There was nothing to fight against. Nothing was happening. Just silence. It stretched through the room, thick and suffocating, pressing in from every side. It was the kind of silence that made the world feel distant. Unreal. The kind that made her feel like she didn’t exist at all. The door creaked open. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look up. She already knew who it was. It was him. The one who had taken her, the one who watched her like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. He stepped inside with the same casual confidence, his footsteps slow, deliberate. Willow could hear the faint rustle of his clothing, the controlled cadence of his breathing. He wasn’t in a rush. Because he had already won. She hated that thought. She hated that she was starting to believe it. He exhaled through his nose, something close to amusement. “You’re not even going to ask why I’m here?” Willow finally lifted her head, her green eyes sharp despite the exhaustion weighing down her body. “I already know,” she said. Her voice was steady, but empty. He tilted his head. “Oh?” “You’re going to hurt me.” He smiled faintly. “Not quite.” Then he raised his hand. And everything changed. Willow felt it the moment it happened. A crack. A severing. One second, Theo was there—distant but real. She could feel him, even through the haze. The mate bond was weak, but it was still something. Then— Nothing. The air was ripped from her lungs. Her stomach plummeted. The bond didn’t just fade. It was cut off. Like someone had slammed a door shut between them, sealing her inside an empty, lightless room. Theo was gone. She couldn’t feel him. Couldn’t reach for him. And worse—he couldn’t reach for her. Willow gasped sharply, her chest caving in on itself. “No,” she whispered. The leader lowered his hand, his expression unreadable. “You feel it, don’t you?” Willow couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Theo. He’s going to lose his mind. Her heart ached. Because she knew. She knew exactly what was happening on the other end of that bond. Theo was feeling it right now—the sudden loss, the emptiness, the panic. He would be searching for her, reaching for her. And he would find nothing. He would think she was gone. Theo. Atlas. The storm that was already inside him was about to become something catastrophic. She pressed her trembling lips together, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, Theo.” But she barely had time to grieve. Because the second the bond disappeared— She remembered. It came in a rush. A flood of images, thoughts, emotions. Too much. Too fast. Her head snapped back against the stone wall as her past slammed into her. A forgotten life. A bloodline hidden in shadow. A name whispered in reverence and fear. She saw herself. But not the woman she had been yesterday. Not the Luna of the Onyx Pack. No. She saw something more. Something ancient. Something powerful. Flashes of faces she should have remembered—voices, places, a history that had been stolen from her. Willow gasped, her fingers digging into the stone floor, her entire body burning from the inside out. She remembered. She remembered. And she knew exactly who she was. He watched her quietly, patiently. Waiting. Because he knew. This had been the plan all along. She lifted her head slowly, her breathing uneven, her green eyes glowing. “I remember,” she whispered. His lips curled slightly. “Good.” And then, for the first time in years, Willow spoke her true name. The name the world had long since forgotten. The name that had been buried beneath lies. The name that had the power to change everything.The woods were still this time of day. The kind of stillness that came not from silence, but from peace. Not the tense hush before a storm—but the exhale that follows one. Two wolves darted between the trees, pelts flashing silver white and black as they raced toward the river. Nova and Atlas—Selene and Theoden. They weren’t chasing anything anymore. Just the wind. Just the freedom they’d fought so hard to earn. They reached the river at the same time, skidding down the bank and crashing into the water with a roar of splashes and barked laughter. A few moments later, two smaller wolves barreled out of the woods, one dark gray with white paws, the other reddish-gold with eyes too clever for her age. Their children. Kael and Lyra. They tumbled into the shallows, wrestling their parents with soaked fur and wagging tails, before the whole family finally shifted back to human form, dripping and breathless. Selene grinned as she squeezed water from her hair. Theoden pulled her close, p
The earth felt still again. Not dead. Not dormant. Just… still. Like the world had exhaled for the first time in centuries and was finally resting. Selene stood at the crest of a hill just outside Silvercrest, the wind brushing through her hair. The sky was soft, the clouds drifting like whispers. Below her, warriors were gathering. Onyx wolves, Silvercrest wolves, and the remnants of what had once been scattered. Now, they were united. Whole. Behind her, Theoden walked up the hill, his steps quiet. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Ready?” he asked softly. Selene leaned back against him. “I think… I’ve been ready for this more than anything else.” He kissed her temple, slow and lingering. “Then let’s go home.” They returned to Silvercrest first, gathering their things, tending wounds, thanking those who had fought beside them. Cassiel had moved in with the pack. It seemed fitting for the last Elder to be with the pack that guarded t
Theoden stood at the base of the archway, staring up at the massive stone door. It towered above them, ancient and unmoving, but alive in a way that made his skin crawl. The markings etched into its surface pulsed faintly, like the thrum of a heartbeat buried in rock. This wasn’t just a door—it was a wound in the fabric of the world. And they were finally going to seal it. Selene stepped beside him, her fingers brushing against his. “I remember,” she whispered, her voice steady. “I remember the words. The symbols. The rhythm.” “So do I,” Theoden replied. The last time these words had been spoken, it was by a circle of Elders. But instead of sealing the door, they’d used the ritual to erase Selene and Theoden—trapping their souls outside of time, tearing them from the world. The Elders had feared the door, but more than that, they feared the ones born to protect it. This time, the ritual would not erase them. This time, it would fulfill its purpose. Selene turned to Luka and Da
Theoden sat beneath the silver light of twilight, his back resting against the base of a cracked pillar. Smoke still curled through the trees from what was left of the battlefield, and the earth beneath him was scorched, still warm to the touch. But the worst of the fire had passed. The world was still standing. He was still breathing. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly as he pressed a hand over his chest, where the embers of Atlas’s flame had entered him. The skin there still burned faintly—not in pain, but with something deeper. Something sacred. “You should be resting.” Atlas’s voice drifted into his mind again. Still present. Still alive. Theoden smiled faintly. “I am.” “No, you’re brooding.” A breath of laughter escaped him, but it came out soft. Fragile. “Maybe.” A long silence passed between them. “You weren’t supposed to come back,” Theoden said finally. Atlas’s voice was steady, almost too calm. “Neither were you.” Theoden let his head fall back against the ston
Aylexelen shattered into light. It wasn’t like before—no scream of rage, no final attempt at vengeance. Just one long, drawn-out silence as Selene, Nova, and Atlas poured every last ounce of their power into him. The golden light from Selene’s chest merged with Nova’s brilliance and Atlas’ fire, converging like the universe itself had been holding its breath for this moment. And then—he was gone. Ash. Dust. Nothing. The silence that followed felt too heavy to be real. Selene stood there, barely breathing, her power still pulsing at her fingertips. Nova hovered beside her, glowing in her own separate form, but Selene didn’t feel triumphant. She didn’t feel relief. She felt…something. Wrong. Her chest twisted. She turned. And her world collapsed. Theoden was lying in the dirt. Not moving. Not breathing. “No—” His skin was pale. His lips parted just slightly. His beautiful blue eyes—those eyes that had stared into hers with fire and love and life—were closed. And the b
The battlefield was glowing. Golden light and blazing fire twisted through the smoke, dancing across the scarred earth like twin storms. Nova and Atlas moved as if they had always existed separate from their hosts, as if their power had always belonged to this plane. They were magnificent—unstoppable. One, a shimmering beacon of celestial light, the other a relentless inferno tearing through darkness. Selene and Theoden stood at the center of it all, the door looming behind them. A structure ancient beyond measure. Carved from obsidian stone, humming with quiet power. And standing before them—Aylexelen. His silver eyes shone with amusement. And beneath it, something else. Hunger. He raised a hand, and the corrupted creatures that slithered and crawled behind him surged forward. But they didn’t reach Selene or Theoden. Atlas shot through the front line, a living flame ripping into the monstrous shapes, burning them into nothing. Nova followed a second later, glowing so brightl