LOGINThe news of the pregnancy should have been a joy, a fulfillment of a she-wolf's deepest instinct. Instead, it felt like a cold chain being wrapped around Lyra’s neck. For three days, she sat in the corner of the cave, refusing to eat, staring at the cave entrance where the gray light of the Forbidden Forest teased the shadows.
She hated the life inside her. She hated that it was a tether to Silas, a piece of him that she couldn't simply run away from. Every time she felt a twinge in her abdomen, she was reminded of his hands, his scent, and the way he had looked at her with such clinical disgust."You are wasting away," Hokan said on the fourth morning, dropping a freshly skinned rabbit near her feet. "If you die, the child dies. If the child dies, the bloodline ends. Perhaps that is what you want?"Lyra looked up, her eyes sunken. "He rejected me, Hokan. He tried to kill me. Why should I carry his legacy? Why should I bring a child into a world where itsIsabella Vance sat in the back of her father’s carriage, her fingers shredding a lace handkerchief. The journey back to the Northern territory was long and bitter, but the venom in her heart was far more potent than any physical exhaustion."We are not finished, Father," Isabella whispered, her voice a sharp, jagged thing. "That rogue won't stay on the throne forever. She has a weakness. I saw it."Alpha Vance looked at his daughter with a mixture of pity and annoyance. "She has the Shadow Claws, Isabella. She has the Alpha-born child. We have nothing but a disgraced alliance.""We have the secret," Isabella said, a cruel smile touching her lips. "I saw the old man—Silas’s father—sneaking out of the North Tower. He looked terrified. He was carrying a bundle of old letters. I had my maid steal one."She pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from her bodice. It was yellowed with age, but the ink was still legible."It’s a letter from Lyra’s
The rainy season had arrived in the Silver Peaks, a constant, grey drizzle that turned the pack lands into a sea of mud and mist. For Silas, the weather was a perfect reflection of his internal state. He had moved his belongings to the North Tower—a drafty, high-ceilinged stone structure that was usually reserved for the pack’s archives. He lived in a state of self-imposed exile, watching the keep from a distance.Every morning, he would wait at the gates of the South Wing, hoping for a glimpse of Kaelen. Sometimes, he was allowed to see the boy under the watchful, lethal eyes of Nyx. He would bring Kaelen small gifts—a carved wooden wolf, a polished stone from the river, a silver-threaded ribbon.Kaelen was always polite, but he was always distant. He looked at Silas with curiosity, but never with the instinctive, soul-deep recognition that Silas craved.One evening, Silas caught Lyra in the gardens. She was standing by a cluster of frost-blooms, her coat
The presentation of Kaelen to the Blackwood Pack was not the joyful ceremony usually reserved for an Alpha’s heir. It was a cold, calculated display of power. Lyra had ordered the entire pack to assemble in the courtyard at mid-morning. She stood on the same stone dais where Silas had rejected her, her dark coat flapping in the wind.In her arms, she held Kaelen.The pack looked up at them with a mixture of awe and terror. They saw the boy’s eyes—the unmistakable stormy sea of the Blackwood line—and they felt the aura he radiated. It wasn't the soft, budding energy of a pup; it was a heavy, vibrating resonance that demanded acknowledgment."This is Kaelen Thorne," Lyra announced, her voice amplified by her shadow-magic. "He is the son of the Shadow Queen. He is the heir to the Star-Born lineage. And he is the future of this territory."A low murmur broke out among the elders. "He has the Blackwood eyes," one whispered. "He is the Alpha’s son."
The Great Hall of the Blackwood Pack was no longer a place of warmth and ale. It had been transformed into a cold, efficient nerve center. Shadow Claws in dark tactical gear stood at every entrance, their presence a silent, looming threat to the regular pack warriors who were still trying to process the events of the previous night.Lyra sat at the head of the long oak table—the same table where her father had once shared wine with Silas while discussing her "disposal." She was reviewing the land-deeds, her obsidian blade resting on the table beside her."The pack elders are demanding a meeting," Malakor said, standing to her right. "They are claiming that the contract you signed with Silas is invalid because it was signed under duress."Lyra didn't look up from the parchment. "Duress? Their Alpha bit his thumb and pressed his blood-print onto that contract while the vampires were at their gates. If they want to argue validity, they can argue it with the B
The transition from the blinding violet heat of the Silver Peaks to the sterile, pine-scented silence of the Blackwood infirmary felt like a death in itself. Silas Blackwood struggled against the heavy pull of unconsciousness, his mind a fractured mirror of the night before. He remembered the roar of the Blood-Moon King, the bone-chilling cold of the portal energy, and then—the face.He remembered Lyra.Not the weak, scentless girl in the frayed dress, but a woman forged in the heart of a star. Her sapphire eyes had burned with a light that didn't belong to this world, and the power she had unleashed had made the very mountains tremble.Silas gasped, a sharp, searing pain lancing through his shoulder. He tried to sit up, but a heavy hand pushed him back down."Careful, Alpha. The silver-mace did more than just break the bone. It tried to rot the spirit."Silas blinked, his vision slowly clearing. He wasn't looking at his pack healer. He w
The Silver Peaks were shrouded in a thick, unnatural fog that smelled of copper and ozone. The portal was located in the heart of the "Devil’s Maw," a natural amphitheater of jagged rock that amplified the sound of the vampires’ chanting.Lyra and Silas led their joint forces through the narrow mountain passes. The tension between the regular pack wolves and the Shadow Claws was palpable, but they were united by a singular, terrifying goal."The portal is almost open," Silas whispered, his wolf-ears twitching. "I can hear the rhythm of the Blood-Moon King’s heart. It’s... it’s massive.""He is an ancient," Lyra replied, her obsidian blade drawn. "He doesn't fight with claws; he fights with the hunger of the void itself. If he steps through, Blackwood is gone."They reached the edge of the Maw. Below them, a vortex of swirling red energy was tearing a hole in the fabric of reality. Hundreds of vampires stood in concentric circles, their blood being







