Chapter 30

 The Sanctuary’s Secret

The dawn broke over Wolfcrest Avenue, its pale light spilling across the cobblestones and chasing away the last remnants of shadow. Aria supported Caden as they limped away from the gala hall, his arm draped over her shoulder, his breaths shallow but steady. Rollan nestled in her other arm, his tiny face peaceful despite the chaos they’d endured. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of rain and earth, but the weight of Victor’s final words clung to them like a shroud: “The loyalists will not rest until they claim the child.”

They needed refuge—a place to tend Caden’s wounds and regroup. Aria’s mind raced, sifting through memories of safe havens within the territory. The old watchtower, she thought, recalling a crumbling structure hidden in the woods, a relic from a time when the packs guarded their borders with vigilance. It was secluded, defensible, and far from the loyalists’ prying eyes.

“Head for the watchtower,” she murmured to Caden, her voice steady despite the exhaustion tugging at her limbs. “It’s not far.”

He nodded, his jaw clenched against the pain. “Lead the way.”

They slipped into the forest, the trees closing around them like a protective embrace. The path was overgrown, the watchtower’s existence forgotten by most, but Aria’s steps were sure. As they walked, she glanced at Caden, his face pale but resolute. The gash in his side had stopped bleeding, but the wound was deep, and she knew it would need proper care.

“You’re going to be alright,” she said, more to reassure herself than him.

He managed a faint smile. “I’ve had worse. Besides, I’ve got you.”

Her chest warmed at his words, a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty. They had faced Victor’s essence and emerged victorious, their bond proving stronger than the curse. But the loyalists remained a threat, their numbers and resolve unknown. We need to understand the prophecy fully, she thought, her gaze dropping to Rollan. For his sake.

The watchtower loomed ahead, its stone walls weathered but sturdy, ivy creeping up its sides like nature’s armor. They pushed through the heavy wooden door, the musty scent of age and disuse greeting them. The interior was sparse—a single room with a hearth, a rickety table, and a ladder leading to a loft. Aria helped Caden to a bench, then set Rollan down on a pile of old blankets, his tiny hands grasping at the air.

“I’ll start a fire,” she said, moving to the hearth. “We need to clean that wound.”

Caden leaned back, his eyes half-closed. “There’s a healer’s kit in my pack. Should have some herbs and bandages.”

She rummaged through his bag, finding the kit and setting to work. The fire crackled to life, casting a warm glow across the room. As she tended to Caden’s injury, her hands steady despite the fatigue, she felt his gaze on her.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice soft.

She glanced up, meeting his eyes. “I’ve had practice. You’re not the first stubborn wolf I’ve patched up.”

A chuckle escaped him, though it turned into a wince. “Lucky me.”

She finished bandaging the wound, her fingers lingering on his skin. “Rest now. We’ll need your strength.”

He caught her hand, his grip gentle but firm. “Aria, about what happened back there… with Victor. He said our bond was weakness, but you proved him wrong. You saved us.”

Her throat tightened, emotion swelling. “We saved each other. That’s what we do.”

He pulled her closer, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t know what’s coming, but I know we’ll face it together. You, me, and Rollan.”

She nodded, tears pricking her eyes. “Always.”

A soft coo broke the moment, and they turned to see Rollan stirring, his tiny arms reaching for them. Aria scooped him up, cradling him between them. His mark glowed faintly, a reminder of the prophecy that still bound their fates.

As night fell, they settled by the fire, Rollan nestled in Caden’s arms. Aria watched them, her heart swelling with a fierce, protective love. But beneath it, a nagging doubt lingered. What does the prophecy truly mean for him?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a faint scratching at the door. She tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger. Caden’s eyes snapped open, his wolf senses alert. “Someone’s outside,” he whispered.

Aria crept to the door, peering through a crack in the wood. A cloaked figure stood in the moonlight, their face obscured. Her pulse quickened. “Who’s there?”

The figure lowered their hood, revealing a woman with silver-streaked hair and piercing green eyes. “I mean no harm,” she said, her voice calm but urgent. “I am Elara, a scholar of the old ways. I’ve been tracking you since the gala hall.”

Caden rose, wincing as he moved to Aria’s side. “What do you want?”

Elara’s gaze flicked to Rollan, then back to them. “I know of the prophecy tied to your child. I can help you understand it—but we must act quickly. The loyalists are gathering, and they have a new leader.”

Aria’s stomach dropped. “Who?”

Elara’s expression darkened. “A man named Darius. He was Victor’s second-in-command, and he’s more ruthless than Victor ever was. He seeks to use Rollan to fulfill the prophecy’s darkest path.”

Caden’s jaw clenched. “How do we stop him?”

Elara stepped closer, her eyes intense. “The prophecy speaks of a ritual at the blood moon’s peak. If Darius sacrifices Rollan’s blood then, he can twist the prophecy to his will. But there is another way—a path of unity, where your bond can seal the prophecy for good.”

Aria’s heart raced. “How?”

Elara glanced at the mark on Rollan’s arm. “By binding your blood—yours, Caden’s, and Rollan’s—in a counter-ritual. It will require a relic of the first wolves, hidden in the catacombs beneath the keep. But Darius knows of it too, and he’s already moving to claim it.”

Caden’s eyes narrowed. “Why should we trust you?”

Elara’s gaze was steady. “Because I was once a loyalist. I saw the destruction Victor wrought, and I left. I’ve spent years studying the prophecy, seeking a way to end the cycle. This is it.”

Aria exchanged a glance with Caden, uncertainty warring with hope. “We don’t have much time,” she said. “The blood moon is in two days.”

Elara nodded. “Then we must leave at first light. The catacombs are treacherous, and Darius will not hesitate to kill you on sight.”

As Elara stepped back into the shadows, Aria turned to Caden, her resolve hardening. “We have to try. For Rollan.”

He pulled her close, his voice a low growl. “We will. And wee’ll end this, once and for all.”

But as the fire crackled and the night deepened, a distant howl echoed through the trees—a reminder that their enemies were closing in, and the final battle was yet to come.