Chapter 19:  The Wolves Who Forgot How to Howl

The forest above the valley was quiet again. Too quiet. The kind of silence that came after everything had already burned.

We had been walking for hours. The air smelled like smoke and pine. Every step felt heavier than the last.

Revan led the way, his shirt torn, blood dried across his arm. He hadn’t spoken since sunrise. Jordan followed a few feet behind me, limping slightly, his blade strapped across his back. I stayed between them, half afraid to speak.

The child’s heartbeat inside me was steady now, softer, almost peaceful. I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

When we reached a small clearing, Revan finally stopped. “We rest here.”

Jordan dropped his pack and sank onto a fallen log. “You mean you rest here. You’ve been bleeding since dawn.”

Revan didn’t look at him. “I’ve bled worse.”

“Not lately,” Jordan said.

I knelt beside the river that cut through the clearing, rinsing the dirt from my hands. My reflection looked strange in the water — my eyes a little too bright, my skin still faintly glowing under the surface.

Revan crouched beside me. “It’s getting stronger.”

I didn’t look up. “I can feel it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” I said quietly. “Not yet.”

He reached out, brushing his thumb along the marks on my wrist. “It’s not just power anymore. It’s becoming something else.”

I met his eyes. “Someone else.”

He didn’t answer.

Jordan cleared his throat from behind us. “We need a plan. The Council’s not going to stop. And we can’t keep running blind.”

Revan stood. “We head north. The Frostmoon pack still has numbers. They don’t answer to the Council anymore.”

Jordan scoffed. “You think they’ll join us?”

“They hate the Council more than they hate me,” Revan said.

“That’s not saying much.”

Revan’s jaw tightened. “They’ll fight if they know what’s coming.”

Jordan looked at me. “And what is coming, exactly?”

I hesitated. “The voice said the world would follow the one who burns and forgives. I think it meant us.”

“Forgives what?” Jordan asked.

Revan’s voice was low. “Everything.”

We broke camp before the sun dropped. The air turned colder as we climbed. By the time night came, frost covered the ground.

I pulled my cloak tighter. “How far are we from Frostmoon?”

“Half a day,” Revan said. “If the bridges still stand.”

Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “And if they don’t?”

Revan gave a faint, humorless smile. “Then we swim.”

The road ahead wound through broken trees and frozen streams. Every few miles, we passed old ruins — the bones of villages that hadn’t survived the Council’s purge.

I could feel them watching, the ghosts of what used to be.

As we walked, Jordan moved closer. His voice was quiet. “You haven’t slept in days.”

“Neither have you.”

He gave a small smile. “Yeah, but I’m not glowing like a star.”

I looked away. “It’s worse at night. I can feel everything.”

“Like what?”

“Fear,” I said softly. “Theirs. Ours. It’s everywhere.”

He touched my arm gently. “Then feel something else. Something worth holding on to.”

For a second, I almost leaned into him. But then Revan’s voice cut through the dark. “We’re close.”

Jordan stepped back. The moment was gone.

The trees opened onto a wide field blanketed in mist. In the distance stood the remains of stone walls, half-collapsed and covered in frost.

Revan stopped at the edge. “That’s them.”

Shapes moved in the fog — tall, slow, cautious. Their eyes glowed faintly, not red but silver.

Wolves.

Jordan tensed. “You sure they’re friendly?”

Revan smirked. “Not even a little.”

A low growl came from the mist. Then a voice. Deep. Rough.

“You brought trouble to my door again, Stormfang.”

Revan straightened. “And you still call this a door, Kael?”

A figure stepped forward — taller than Revan, broader, his hair white as snow. A scar cut across his face from temple to jaw.

Kael stopped a few feet away, his gaze sliding from Revan to me. “You brought her.”

Revan nodded. “She’s the reason we’re all still breathing.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change. “She’s the reason the Council’s burning half the continent.”

Jordan’s hand went to his sword. “You should watch your tone.”

Kael didn’t even look at him. “You should watch your alpha.”

Revan stepped forward. “Enough.”

Kael smirked. “You still think you can command me?”

“No,” Revan said. “But I can ask you to listen.”

Kael folded his arms. “You’ve got one minute.”

Revan glanced at me. “Tell him.”

I took a breath. “The Council opened another gate. The Darkborn are coming back. If we don’t stand together, no pack will survive.”

Kael tilted his head. “And why should we believe you?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” I said. “I’ve seen what’s waiting on the other side.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Fear maybe, or memory. “You’re the one they call the Flameborn.”

I hesitated. “That’s not my name.”

“It is now,” he said quietly. “The world knows it. The Council’s preaching it.”

Revan stepped closer. “Then let them preach. We’ll make it true.”

Kael studied him for a long moment, then said, “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

Kael’s gaze shifted to me again. “If I let you in, you bring war to my people.”

Revan didn’t flinch. “War’s already here.”

The silence stretched until the cold wind filled it. Then Kael turned toward the fog. “Follow me.”

We moved through the ruins, past broken houses and watchtowers. Wolves watched us from the shadows, silent and wary.

When we reached the heart of the old fortress, fires burned in stone pits. The smell of meat and smoke hung heavy in the air.

Kael led us into a half-collapsed hall. “You can speak here. My pack will listen.”

Revan nodded to me. “Tell them the truth.”

I stepped forward. Dozens of eyes turned to me — men, women, children, all marked by years of surviving the Council’s wars.

“The Council’s raising something older than any of us,” I said. “They want to erase everything that doesn’t kneel to them. The only way to stop them is to stand together.”

A woman near the fire spoke. “And if we fight, they’ll kill us.”

“They’ll kill you if you don’t,” I said.

An old wolf near the back growled. “And what makes you think we can win?”

Revan answered that one. “Because she’s the first who can burn gods.”

The hall went silent.

Kael studied me again. “If we fight for you, what do you fight for?”

The question caught me off guard. I thought of Revan. Of Jordan. Of the child. Of the fire that had taken everything and still asked for more.

I said quietly, “For a world that doesn’t have to be afraid of itself.”

Kael’s eyes softened just enough to show he’d heard me.

He turned to his pack. “You all heard her. The Council’s not stopping. The old magic’s waking. If we don’t fight, there won’t be anything left to fight for.”

The murmurs spread, low and uneasy, but not hopeless.

Finally Kael faced Revan again. “You’ll have your army. But if you betray us—”

Revan’s voice was steady. “I won’t.”

Kael gave a small nod. “Then welcome to Frostmoon, Flameborn.”

The title felt heavy in the air, like something that would never leave me again.

As the pack began to disperse, Jordan leaned close. “That went better than expected.”

Revan gave a tired smile. “For now.”

I looked at him. “You don’t trust them.”

“I don’t trust anyone who’s survived this long,” he said.

I didn’t argue.

Later, when the fires burned lower, I sat outside the hall watching the sky. Snow had begun to fall, soft and silent.

Revan joined me, sitting close enough that our shoulders touched. For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then he said quietly, “When this war starts, it won’t stop until one of us dies.”

I turned to him. “Which one?”

He smiled faintly. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Jordan’s voice came from behind us. “You two planning the end of the world without me again?”

Revan didn’t look back. “You’d only argue.”

Jordan walked closer, his expression softer than his words. “I’d argue less if you’d stop pretending you’re not scared.”

Revan glanced at him. “You think I’m scared?”

“I know you are,” Jordan said. “Because so am I.”

The three of us sat in silence, the snow falling around us, the night too still to feel safe.

Somewhere deep in the forest, a lone wolf howled. The sound carried long and low, a broken song.

Revan whispered, “They forgot how to do that for years.”

“Then remind them,” I said.

He looked at me, his eyes dark and steady. “We will.”

But even as he said it, I could feel it — the faint pulse of something moving far beyond the trees, old and patient.

The child’s voice whispered again. “They’ll come before the moon wanes.”

“When?” I whispered back.

“When the howling stops.”