Chapter 5

The forest burned behind me, a slow, dying heartbeat of smoke and ash that clung to my lungs. Every step hurt. Every breath felt borrowed. The night had swallowed the world whole, and I was running through its throat, desperate not to be devoured.

Auren’s hand brushed mine as we sprinted through the black trees. His grip was steady, unhurried even in chaos — like he’d done this before, like he always moved through fire and shadows without losing himself. “Keep breathing, Aria,” he murmured. His voice was low, calm, anchoring me in the storm. “They’ll follow the trail. We have to disappear.”

“I’m trying,” I gasped. The taste of iron coated my tongue — blood, maybe my own. My head was still ringing from the blast. My vision swam in and out, catching only pieces of him: his silhouette, the faint glow of his eyes in the dark, the line of his jaw when he turned to check the path behind us.

Somewhere beyond the trees, I could hear them — the hunters. Their movements were efficient, inhumanly so. I didn’t need to see them to know they weren’t entirely human. The air shifted when they drew near; the earth seemed to recoil from their presence.

“Who are they?” I whispered.

“Not your concern right now.” Auren’s tone was clipped, but I caught the undertone — the same one that had been there since the explosion. Regret. Fear. Not for himself. For me.

We reached the river — a wide, silent ribbon under the moonlight. Auren stopped abruptly and turned to face me. “They’ll scent us. We go in.”

I stared at the icy water, disbelief flickering through my exhaustion. “You want us to swim?”

“Unless you’d rather die here.”

He didn’t wait for my answer. His fingers closed around my wrist, and before I could argue, we were plunging into the current.

The shock of cold ripped the breath from my lungs. The current seized us, dragging, spinning. For a moment, panic rose like fire in my chest — but then I felt Auren’s arm around me, steady and sure. We moved together, bodies cutting through the dark water, until the world above became nothing but muffled sound and blurred light.

When we finally crawled onto the far bank, I was shaking — from cold, from fear, from something deeper I didn’t dare name.

Auren didn’t seem winded. His hair, slick with river water, clung to his forehead. He looked almost otherworldly under the fractured moonlight. “We’ll rest here,” he said, scanning the woods.

I hugged myself, trying to stop the trembling. “You said they’re not human.”

“They’re from the same world you tried to forget.” His gaze cut to me. “The one that’s been trying to claim you since the moment you were born.”

My stomach twisted. “You’re saying this is my fault?”

“I’m saying you were never meant to live a quiet life among humans.” His tone softened then, just barely. “You’ve always felt it — haven’t you? That pull under your skin? That ache you couldn’t name?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Because yes — I had felt it. For years. Like a storm waiting beneath my ribs. Like a secret I couldn’t confess, even to myself.

Auren crouched beside the riverbank, fingers tracing the mud. “They’ll keep hunting. We have maybe an hour before they find this side.”

I sat down hard, exhaustion finally catching me. “Then we keep running?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Now you learn to fight.”

He faced me fully then, and for the first time since the blast, I saw something in his expression that wasn’t restraint — it was urgency, almost desperation. “What you did back there — that light, that power — it wasn’t random. You triggered it. You saved us both.”

“I didn’t even know what I was doing,” I said.

“You will.”

The certainty in his voice was terrifying. I stared at him, my heartbeat uneven. “Why are you helping me, Auren?”

His eyes met mine, calm as ever. “Because I swore to your mother that I would.”

The world stilled.

“My… my mother?” The word cracked like glass in my throat. “You knew her?”

Auren’s silence was an answer. He looked away, as though the past had claws. “We don’t have time for that story right now. But you deserve to know she wasn’t just anyone. She was Luna of the Hidden Court. And you—” His gaze met mine again, sharp as a blade’s edge. “You’re her heir.”

The words sank in slowly, painfully. “That’s impossible.”

“I wish it were.”

Something inside me trembled — not fear this time, but something rawer. The air around us seemed to hum in response. The faint silver glow from my hands began again, faint but growing.

Auren noticed. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Good. Don’t fight it. Feel it.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Then stop thinking.”

He reached out, his hand closing over mine. The contact was electric — a pulse that shot straight through me. My senses sharpened; I could hear everything — the whisper of wind, the thrum of water, even his heartbeat, steady against the chaos.

But with that came something else — flashes of memory that weren’t mine. My mother’s face, laughter in a courtyard drenched in moonlight. A wolf’s silhouette against flame. A promise spoken in another tongue.

I gasped, yanking my hand back. “What was that?”

“The past remembering you,” he said simply.

The forest went unnaturally quiet. Then a howl split the air — low, guttural, near enough to make the trees tremble.

Auren was on his feet instantly. “They’ve found us.”

“How?”

“They followed your power.”

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him this was all too much — the running, the blood, the revelations I hadn’t asked for. But then I saw his expression — calm but grim, the kind of calm that comes only when someone knows what’s coming.

He looked at me. “Can you run?”

“I can fight,” I said, surprising myself.

A flicker of approval crossed his face. “Then stay close.”

We moved into the trees again, but this time I wasn’t just following — I was listening, feeling. The forest pulsed with energy, threads of life and scent and sound weaving through me. I could almost sense the hunters before they appeared.

The first one came from the left — a shadow breaking free of another shadow. Auren moved before I could blink, striking fast, silent. The creature fell without a sound.

Another came. This time I didn’t freeze. Instinct took over. The light inside me flared — not bright, but sharp, a concentrated flash that hit the creature square in the chest. It screamed, dissolving into smoke.

Auren turned, surprise flashing across his face. “You’re learning.”

“I didn’t even—”

“You don’t need to think, Aria. You just need to remember what you are.”

The words vibrated through me. What I am. Not human. Not just broken pieces of someone else’s legacy. Something in between — dangerous and divine.

The forest lit briefly with silver fire before darkness reclaimed it.

We kept moving until the trees thinned and the outline of an abandoned farmhouse appeared ahead, its roof half-collapsed, windows gaping like open wounds. Auren guided me inside, checking the shadows.

“They won’t risk attacking again tonight,” he said finally. “We rest here.”

I sank to the floor, every muscle aching. My hands still glowed faintly in the dark. “What happens when they find us again?”

Auren looked out the shattered window. “Then we stop running.”

He turned to me, eyes catching the faint moonlight. “You’re not the prey anymore, Aria. You’re the storm.”

The words struck deep. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us hummed with the same dangerous tension as before — not spoken, not acted on, but alive.

And then, from somewhere far away, a different howl echoed — lower, familiar, filled with rage and recognition.

Kael.

I froze. Auren’s head snapped up.

“He’s closer than I thought,” he murmured.

“Kael’s alive?” I whispered.

Auren’s expression darkened. “And he’s coming for you.”

The air felt heavier after Auren said those words. He’s coming for you.

I didn’t want to believe it — but I could feel him, like a bruise beneath my skin. Kael. His name was a pulse I couldn’t quiet. The bond that had shattered the night of the explosion still lingered, ghostlike, stretched across the miles but alive.

Auren stood by the broken window, scanning the darkness outside. The faintest glow of moonlight traced the edges of his profile. He was so still, so unreadable — and for the first time, I realized just how unnatural that calmness was. It wasn’t serenity. It was control. Ruthless, deliberate control.

I whispered, “What will he do when he finds me?”

Auren’s answer came without hesitation. “Whatever it takes to get you back.”

My throat tightened. “You sound like you know him.”

“I do,” he said. “Better than you think.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the flicker in his eyes told me enough — there was history between them, some dark entanglement I wasn’t ready to unravel.

The silence stretched until I couldn’t stand it. “If he’s alive, then he’s seen the destruction. He’ll think I did it.”

“He won’t just think it,” Auren replied quietly. “He’ll know.”

I wanted to protest, but the truth lodged itself somewhere deep in my chest. The power that had erupted from me — that silver storm — had destroyed everything. If Kael had found the ruins, if he’d felt my energy in the air, then yes. He knew.

Auren turned away from the window and crouched beside me. “Listen carefully. When he comes, he’ll be angry. But under that anger, there’s something else — something that binds you both. You need to understand it before it consumes you.”

I frowned. “You mean the bond.”

He nodded once. “It’s not a curse, Aria. It’s a tether between your souls. But bonds like yours and Kael’s — forged in conflict, sealed by betrayal — they can destroy as easily as they can protect.”

The words made my heart ache. “He doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Do you?” Auren asked softly.

The question caught me off guard. I didn’t answer.

He watched me for a long moment, then said, “Rest. We move before dawn.”

I lay down on the floor, my back against the cold boards. Auren stayed by the window, a sentinel carved from shadow. I tried to close my eyes, but sleep refused to come. Every time I drifted, memories of Kael’s eyes — molten gold, bright with fury and hurt — dragged me back.

When dawn finally came, it bled pale and cold through the cracks in the farmhouse walls.

We didn’t speak as we left. The world was damp and grey, the forest stretching endless around us. But there was a strange peace in the silence. For the first time since the explosion, I felt a hint of purpose — not safety, but direction.

Then, as we reached the ridge overlooking the valley, I felt it.

A ripple in the air. Familiar. Powerful.

Kael.

The connection flared like a reopened wound. I staggered, grabbing a tree for balance.

“Aria?” Auren’s hand was on my shoulder instantly.

“He’s close,” I breathed.

Auren’s jaw tightened. “Then he’s already seen the signs.”

And miles away — though I couldn’t see him, I felt him.

Kael

The world still reeked of fire and silver.

He stood at the edge of what had once been the clearing — now nothing but scorched earth and blackened trees. The air shimmered faintly with residual energy, and beneath it all was her scent — wild, electric, impossible to mistake.

She was alive.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut.

He crouched, brushing ash from a shattered branch, watching the faint silver residue spark beneath his fingers. His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, pacing, growling. Find her.

He had searched the wreckage for hours, refusing to believe she was gone. And now, the truth was undeniable — she had survived the blast. But she wasn’t alone. There was another scent threaded with hers — older, colder, familiar.

Auren.

Kael’s lips curled in a bitter half-smile. “Of course.”

The betrayal cut deeper than any wound. Auren had been one of his own once — his ally, his second. The thought of him near Aria now, guarding her, filled Kael’s chest with a slow, burning rage.

He straightened, eyes narrowing toward the horizon. The connection between him and Aria pulsed faintly in his mind, like a compass dragging him north. He could almost hear her heartbeat if he focused hard enough.

“You can’t run forever, little wolf,” he muttered.

The hunters — his hunters — waited at the edge of the clearing, half-shifted, eyes gleaming. “She’s still in the valley,” one reported.

Kael’s voice was quiet, but lethal. “Then we go before sunset.”

Aria

The forest changed as the day deepened. The trees grew closer together, the air heavier, thick with the scent of pine and iron. I could feel Kael drawing nearer with every step.

Auren didn’t say anything, but I knew he felt it too. The tension in him was different now — sharper, threaded with something like regret.

When we reached a ravine, he stopped. “We can’t keep running. He’ll catch our scent.”

“So what do we do?”

“We set the ground before he arrives.”

Auren knelt, tracing symbols into the dirt with his blade — strange, ancient markings that shimmered faintly as he whispered something under his breath. The earth responded with a low hum.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Warding. It won’t hold him long, but it’ll slow him enough for you to think.”

I swallowed hard. “And what about you?”

He met my gaze. “I’ll be here.”

I wanted to ask what that meant, but the words never came — because the air suddenly shifted.

The birds went silent. The wind stilled.

And then, from across the ravine, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Kael.

His presence hit like a storm breaking open. He looked the same and yet not — harder, colder, his golden eyes burning with emotion I couldn’t name.

My breath caught. “Kael…”

His voice was low, ragged. “So it’s true. You survived.”

I took a step forward, but Auren’s arm shot out, stopping me.

Kael’s gaze flicked to him, and the calm in his expression fractured. “You.”

Auren didn’t flinch. “Kael.”

“You should have stayed dead,” Kael snarled.

The air vibrated with tension. I could feel the bond between Kael and me pulling tight — his anger bleeding into me, his pain echoing through my chest.

“Kael, stop,” I said, voice trembling. “You don’t understand—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly,” he cut in, his tone like ice. “You burned everything we built. And now you hide behind him.”

“That’s not what happened!”

“Then tell me what did,” he challenged.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Because I didn’t know. I didn’t understand my own power, my heritage, or the destruction I’d caused.

The silence was unbearable.

Finally, Auren stepped forward, placing himself between us. “She’s not your enemy, Kael.”

Kael’s growl was low, dangerous. “And you’re not her savior.”

The ground beneath us trembled — faint at first, then violently. Power clashed in the air, raw and unrestrained.

I shouted, “Stop it!” but neither of them listened.

Auren’s hand lifted, silver light flaring from his palm. Kael’s eyes blazed gold in response.

Two ancient forces, mirrored and opposite.

I could feel both — their anger, their guilt, their love — and it tore through me until I couldn’t breathe.

“Enough!” I screamed.

The power inside me erupted again — brighter, fiercer than before. The blast threw them both back, slamming into the trees. The ravine split open beneath us, the earth howling in protest.

When the light finally faded, everything was silent.

I fell to my knees, chest heaving.

Smoke curled through the ruins of the forest. Auren lay unconscious on one side of the ravine. Kael was gone — or maybe swallowed by the shadows. I couldn’t tell.

Only one thing was certain.

Whatever I had unleashed this time… it had changed everything.

And somewhere deep inside, through the ringing silence, I felt a whisper that wasn’t mine.

You can’t save them both.