Chapter 11

The War Council

The council chamber inside Shadowmoor’s great hall had never felt more claustrophobic. The scent of burning logs mingled with steel and sweat, thickening the tension that already clung to the air. A storm brewed outside, but the true thunder rumbled within these stone walls.

Lena sat beside Damian at the long table, flanked by warriors, strategists, and elders. The firelight cast flickering shadows on their faces, amplifying the growing unrest among them. Since the discovery of Kieran’s survival, Lena had remained tight-lipped about their meeting, unsure of how to explain something that even she hadn’t fully processed. She needed proof before she risked dividing the pack with doubts.

But that didn’t mean the revelation hadn’t shaken her. Every decision since that night had felt like walking a knife’s edge.

Damian's voice cut through the murmurs like a blade. "We've received confirmation. The rogue forces are regrouping near the Ironfell Ridge. It's only a matter of time before they strike again."

A grizzled warrior named Garron leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "They’re testing our strength. Their last retreat was too clean. They’re probing for weakness."

Lena nodded, her voice measured. "They have a new leader. Someone who understands more than brute tactics."

Elliot, seated across from her, quirked an eyebrow. "You say that like you know who it is."

Lena stiffened but didn’t look away. "I don’t. Not yet. But they’re no longer moving like scattered wolves. They're coordinated. Intelligent."

Damian regarded her for a long moment, eyes narrowed in thought. "Then we adjust. We can’t assume we're the only ones capable of strategy. We'll need to build contingency plans."

The conversation spiraled into tactics and resource management, but Lena drifted, her mind haunted by Kieran’s words. Her parents. Damian. The story she'd been told growing up — that her father had died in an ambush led by rogue insurgents — had always felt like a wound with a mystery behind it. Now, the scar throbbed with new possibility.

What if Damian had lied? What if her father’s blood had soaked the ground by his hand?

She clenched her fists under the table.

---

Later that night, Lena paced her quarters, the dim glow of the hearth casting her shadow in long, restless shapes. She no longer felt at home within the stone walls. Every word from Kieran had planted seeds of doubt she couldn’t ignore.

She needed answers.

A knock came at her door. Not loud. Intentional.

"Come in," she said.

Damian stepped inside, his expression unreadable. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment before speaking. "You were quiet tonight."

Lena met his gaze, the air between them taut. "I had things on my mind."

He walked further in. "About the rogues? Or something else?"

"Both," she admitted. Her fingers tightened around the edge of a chair. "Damian, I need to ask you something. And I need the truth."

His golden eyes flickered. "Go on."

"What really happened to my parents?"

Silence. Not even the fire crackled. Damian didn't move, but something in him shifted. Lena saw it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the flicker of regret that passed through his eyes.

"Why are you asking me that now?"

She stepped forward. "Because I saw someone in the forest. Someone who told me things."

Damian's jaw clenched. "Who?"

"My brother. Kieran."

His eyes darkened. "Kieran is dead."

"No," Lena said quietly. "He’s not. He found me."

The silence shattered. Damian crossed the room in two strides. "He spoke to you? What did he say?"

"He said you killed our father. That it wasn’t rogues, it was you."

Damian turned from her, hands clenched at his sides. The flames threw shadows across his face, making him look carved from stone.

"It wasn't that simple," he said at last.

"Then explain it to me."

He faced her again. "Your father... was planning to overthrow the council. He wanted war with the human settlements. He would've sacrificed everything to make it happen."

Lena's breath caught. "That doesn’t sound like him."

"Because you were a child. He kept you away from the political side of things. But I saw it. The elders saw it. We tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. When he ordered a raid on a peaceful village, I stopped him. We fought. He left me no choice."

"So you killed him?"

Damian's voice was low. "I defended the pack."

Lena turned away, her heart pounding. "And Kieran?"

"Kieran tried to kill me. He disappeared during the chaos. We assumed he died later."

She pressed her hand against the cool stone wall, trying to breathe.

"I didn’t tell you," Damian said, stepping closer, "because I didn’t want you to carry that burden. Your loyalty now proves I was right about you. But this... this changes things."

Lena looked up at him, uncertain. "He’ll come again. He warned me. He thinks you’re the enemy."

Damian's jaw set. "Then he’s already chosen his side. And you must choose yours."

---

The next morning, Lena went to the edge of the camp, seeking solitude. The air was brisk, the sky smeared with gray. She needed clarity, space to think.

Elliot found her there.

"You look like you're about to punch a tree," he said, leaning against a pine.

"Tempting," she replied.

He studied her. "Word travels. You and Damian had a loud conversation last night."

She shot him a sharp look. "Eavesdropping?"

"Hard not to when half the camp could hear the tension."

Lena sighed and sat on a fallen log. Elliot joined her, silent for a while.

Then he asked, "What do you believe?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Kieran is my blood. But Damian... I’ve fought beside him. I’ve seen the way he leads. If he were truly a monster, I would've seen it. Wouldn't I?"

Elliot offered a noncommittal shrug. "Sometimes monsters wear golden eyes and offer you choices instead of chains."

She met his gaze. "You don’t trust him."

"I trust very few people. But I do trust what I see. And I see a war that’s about more than territory. This is about legacy. About truth."

"And lies," Lena murmured.

---

The council reconvened that afternoon. Damian had called for immediate action, a bold strike to disrupt the rogue stronghold before they regrouped.

Lena sat at the table, heart thudding, the weight of her decision pressing down like armor.

As strategies were laid out, she finally stood.

"I have something to say."

The room fell silent.

She looked to Damian, then around at the others. "I saw the enemy leader. He’s my brother. Kieran. He survived. And he believes this war is about justice."

Gasps rippled. Whispers followed.

Damian's expression hardened. "We don't have time for sentiment. He made his choice."

Lena raised her voice. "And we’ll lose if we don’t understand why. This isn’t just about tactics. It’s about the truth. About what tore this pack apart in the first place."

She met every eye in the room.

"I will fight with you. But I will also find out the truth—no matter who it damns."

Damian stared at her, golden eyes unblinking.

And then he gave a slow, solemn nod.

"Then may the gods favor your search. And may we survive what you find."

 

Outside, the storm finally broke. Rain lashed the windows, wind howled across the stone battlements, and Lena stood beneath the dark sky, letting it soak her to the bone.

Her choice had been made.

Not for blood.

Not for loyalty.

But for truth.

Even if it shattered everything.