I opened the door and found two teenagers looking very eager to be done with the errand so they can go play. Eyes both anxious, posture anything but stiff.
They resembled a kid with a sugar rush. One myth humans always got wrong about shifters was our first shift. It usually happened around six months. We kept the pups in the Den with their parents until they were atleast twelve. So we knew they wouldn’t shift and hurt anyone accidentally These two, Kellan and Cole were around fourteen, so they went to shifter school or the human one not too far from the pack. Kellan held a rolled scroll sealed with red wax—the kind only used for official summons out to me. “You’re late,” Kellan said, pushing his shaggy dark-blonde hair out of his face. Cole elbowed him. “Don’t say it like that. She’s gonna bite your face off.” “If she was gonna bite someone’s face off,” I said, crossing my arms, “it’d be yours. But lucky for you, I’m in a good mood.” “You don’t look like it,” Kellan muttered. They exchanged a glance before Cole cleared his throat. “Elders sent us. You’re being summoned.” My eyebrows shot up. “And they sent you two?” “They said if you scared us, we’d learn respect,” Kellan said, not at all thrilled about it. “Ash, you in so much trouble. Nana Jane said you gonna get it good this time,” Cole blabbered, voice clipped as Kellan nudged him. “By the order of the Elders of the pack and Valley you are summoned to the Den,” Kellan said in a rehearsed voice. If the sudden urge to shift wasn’t so potent I would’ve laughed and made fun of the pup but the pain in my chest reminded me this was no laughing matter. I’m about to go through immense pain. A severed mate bond didn’t strike me as a run in a mud pit kinda gig. “Yeah, yeah, grab some snacks in the fridge quick.” I muttered, tying my boots on and grabbing a jacket that didn’t have blood on it. “Let’s get this over with.” I was not changing my shorts. John was an asshole and I hoped Desiree made him miserable for years to come. The dickhead deserved it. The path to the Den twisted through Questorian Valley, a deep cut of earth surrounded by the arms of a sharp hill and overgrown ridges. Trees grew thick and feral here, roots cracking through what used to be the old railway lines, long abandoned but still visible in rusted curves beneath the moss. Most were now filled with houses and caravans or smaller dens belonging to the pack but it wasn’t close to developed as some of the other packs up north. The Lion packs were known for their extravagant cities and towns. Nothing close compared to the Panthers on the west, a couple hours drive from us and our allies against the Lion shifters. I once went to the panthers territory. It was filled with tree houses and big dome mansions made of concrete. Their city was bustling with activity and so many humans visited their territory it was marked as one of the top ten destinations to visit in New America. Seven hundred years have passed since shifters made themselves public and seven hundred years since the treaty between the shifters and humans were signed. We don’t get involved in their business they don’t get involved in ours. Kellan was a lot more in control of his wolf compared to Cole. I noticed it on our way to the Den. The closer we got the more antsy Cole became. The Den entrance was hidden in plain sight. It was an old maintenance tunnel carved under the railway bed, swallowed by ivy and stone. Unless you were born into the pack, you'd never guess there was a living network of wolves beneath your feet. The deeper we went, the colder the air got. Damp. Still. The kind of quiet that made you feel like the mountain was listening. We stepped into the main corridor and Kellan and Cole immediately changed directions. Cowards. I snorted shaking my head just as a huge bout of pain hit me solid in my chest. The bond. “You’re on your own from here,” Cole called, not even looking back.Krav The pressure pushed again, harder. Not an attack. An instruction. Get up. Move. Remember. Claim. The same way I would tell a young dragon to ride a crosswind instead of fighting it until he tumbled. “Not yours,” I said. “Not this life.” I felt it smile. Not warm. Not cruel. Certain. Then my vision shifted a last time and locked into something that made my stomach drop. I was looking through eyes that were mine and not mine at a battlefield that wasn’t a field. A grid suspended in air. Bodies moved across it in lines. Wolves. Dragons. Something older. I moved my hand and the grid answered. A door opened in the middle and he walked through. Me. Not me. He carried blue in his bones the way I carried it in my blood. He carried heat in his wings that matched the heat in my throat. He looked at me like I was late. Then he said my name in a voice that had never needed a mouth. “Korrin.” My body flinched. No one had called me that in years. Not as a name. As a title. The old wo
Krav Flight always cleared my head. Not tonight.The city dropped away under me into a clean grid of dark roofs and blue ward lines. The tower spires cut the clouds. My wings drove hard. Air burned through my lungs clean and hot. I pushed higher until the hum of the lower nets faded and only the high lanes held me.Catan wanted the cold and the height. My panther wanted ground and walls. I ignored both. I needed the sky.Three days since Ashlyn’s vision. Three days since Keiral said the name none of us should have said. Three days of sleep broken into pieces. Every time I closed my eyes, the seams moved. Every time I landed, the ground felt wrong, like it wanted to tilt.I banked east and cut for the ridge. The mountains held steady in the dark, black lines against a washed moon. I rolled, locked my wings, and let my body fall until the wind screamed in my ears. At the last second I snapped open, flared, and climbed again. Muscle. Bone. Heat. Simple.Then my vision blurred.It hit fa
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Keiral For many moments we stood in silence, contemplative of what this all meant.Ashlyn. Me. Mira. The deaths. The god. It was hard to come up with anything worth saying.The lab around us hummed — the steady pulse of tech, the low thrum of the generators under the floor. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, and the air felt too still, too tight.Ashlyn stood with her arms crossed, eyes distant, as if she was somewhere else entirely. I sat on the edge of the counter, legs dangling, trying to make sense of the puzzle pieces that refused to fit. Mira sat near the door, her head low, fingers fidgeting with the charm Ashlyn had given her weeks ago.It wasn’t just fear that hung between us. It was confusion — a thick, heavy kind that doesn’t let thoughts form straight.“I keep thinking maybe it’s all connected,” I said finally. “The deaths. The dreams. The god.”Ashlyn didn’t look at me. “They are.”Her voice was quiet, but final.Mira lifted her head. “Then why us?”That was the questio
Ashlyn In all my years, I knew someday death would find me like a calling card, waiting to show me its face.It came that night.Krav’s apartment was quiet except for the hum of the city through the windows. My skin still burned from where his hands had been, slick with sweat, the room thick with the scent of us, saalt, musk, heat, and something electric that always came after we touched. My hair clung to my neck. His heartbeat pressed steady against my back as I lay half across his chest, eyes half closed, lungs trying to remember what calm felt like.We didn’t talk. We never did right after. It wasn’t awkwar, just silent. The kind of silence that said everything we didn’t have to.Krav’s fingers traced along my shoulder, lazy. His breath warmed my ear. “You’re quiet,” he murmured.“I’m thinking.”“About what?”“Whether the gods still remember who they made us to be.”He gave a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “If they ever did.”I smiled faintly, but it faded almost as quick. S
KeiralIt had been a month since they found out about the god, and not a single day since that day had passed without me worrying about it. The labs were quieter now, but my mind wasn’t. Every night the dreams came.The black horse.The shadowed figure.The voice whispering about choices and fire.It was never the same, yet it always ended the same — a feeling that something inside me was ticking down, waiting.The rain started late that afternoon, soft against the window glass. I sat cross-legged on the couch, hair pulled up, surrounded by folders and half-empty tea cups. The apartment Ellan had given me was too big. Too polished. Chrome counters, slate floors, a single plant that kept dying because I forgot to water it. It didn’t feel like home — just a pause.A knock came at the door.I didn’t move. “I’m working,” I said.“You’re lying,” Ellan’s voice answered through the door.I sighed, got up, and opened it.He stood there holding a brown paper bag that smelled like soy sauce, ga