Se connecterThe forest north of Stone Creek was colder than Racheal remembered. The deeper they went, the more the air thinned, turning sharp and metallic. Snow clung to the trees, muting every sound. Even the birds seemed to have abandoned the woods.They had been traveling for hours, guided only by instinct and the faint map the Keeper had etched into Damon’s memory. The world had grown silent—too silent. Racheal felt the weight of every crunch beneath her boots, every whisper of wind.Damon led the way, his movements sure and calculated, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. Lucas walked behind them, his aura restless, his gaze flicking between the shadows. Racheal walked in the middle, feeling both protected and suffocated by their silent tension.“Something’s wrong,” Lucas muttered at last. “The forest is watching us.”Damon didn’t slow. “I know. Keep your senses sharp.”Racheal tried to reach out with her wolf senses, but the air was thick—strange. The forest smelled wrong, like ash buried
The first rays of dawn bled over the treetops, painting the cabin in gold and shadow. The night’s battle still clung to the air: claw marks scored the walls, the broken door hung loose on its hinges, and the scent of black smoke lingered like a scar.Racheal stood outside, the cold morning air biting at her skin. She hadn’t slept—not after the shadows had come, not after the masked one’s laughter had followed them on the wind. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his faceless mask bending close, his voice dripping into her soul like poison.Behind her, Damon emerged, his shirt torn and his arm bandaged where one of the creatures had cut deep. His golden aura glowed faintly in the dim light, not from strength, but from the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.“You should rest,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.Racheal shook her head. “How can I, when every time I breathe, it feels like he’s watching?”Damon’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he placed
The Keeper’s words lingered long after his shadow dissolved into the forest. None of them spoke as they made their way back to the cabin. The night air felt colder, sharper, as if the trees themselves were listening.Inside, the fire was rekindled, but the warmth did little to ease the tension. Racheal sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing the bond scars at her wrist, feeling the faint hum of Damon’s steady presence and Lucas’s restless fire. Two threads, fragile yet unbroken.Lucas paced like a caged predator, his claws scraping faintly against the wooden floorboards. “We can’t just sit here. If the Architect’s reach is as wide as that old man said, every pack around us could already be compromised.”Damon’s reply was calm but edged with steel. “And charging blindly into enemy territory will get us killed before we even find the Veil of Ash. We need strategy, not recklessness.”Lucas snapped his gaze to him, eyes glowing crimson. “Strategy won’t matter if the masked one fi
The fire was dead, but the Keeper’s presence filled the clearing with an eerie glow, as though the air itself bent to his words. Damon shifted closer to Racheal, his hand firm on her back, while Lucas prowled just a step ahead, his claws unsheathed, eyes never leaving the stranger.The old man did not flinch at the aggression. “You’ve already met his shadow,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “The masked one. But you must understand—he is not your true enemy. He is only a servant.”Lucas snorted. “A servant strong enough to split the earth in half and almost kill us. Forgive me if I don’t feel comforted.”The Keeper’s gaze flickered to him, sharp as a blade. “Strong, yes. But bound. A puppet. And a puppet always has strings.”Racheal’s stomach turned. “You said… his master. Who is he?”The Keeper lowered his hood, revealing deep lines carved into his weathered face. His blue eyes glowed faintly, like stormlight barely contained. “We called him the Architect once. He was the first wol
The morning sun had barely cleared the trees when Lucas dragged a log into the clearing behind the cabin and split it clean in half with one vicious strike of his clawed hand. The air vibrated with the impact. “Again,” he growled, tossing half the log toward Racheal. She caught it awkwardly, the wood scraping her palms. Damon shot him a glare. “She’s not ready for brute force yet.” Lucas sneered. “She doesn’t need coddling. She needs to know what it feels like when her strength actually answers her. Because when he comes back, there won’t be time for gentle lessons.” Racheal set the log upright. Her hands shook, but not from weakness—her pulse raced with the memory of the masked one’s touch, of the way his dark aura had brushed against her soul. She needed to bury that fear, not feed it. She raised her hand and let the bond threads unfurl inside her. Damon’s golden warmth, steady and controlled. Lucas’s crimson fire, hot and wild. Both pulsed through her veins, colliding like riv
The cabin felt too small, too quiet. The moment the masked one’s presence faded into the dawn mist, the air seemed to collapse in on itself.Racheal sat frozen on the hearth, her hands pressed to her knees, staring into the fire that was burning low. Its warmth didn’t reach her.Damon knelt in front of her, worry written in every line of his face. “Racheal,” he said softly, reaching for her hand.She jerked away before she could stop herself. “Don’t,” she whispered.He froze, hurt flickering in his golden eyes. “I’m just trying to—”“I can still feel him,” she said sharply, her voice cracking. “Like a shadow under my skin. Like he left something behind.”Lucas paced like a caged wolf, his crimson aura a faint shimmer. “That’s exactly why we should hunt him now. End this before it’s too late.”“Or walk straight into whatever trap he’s laid for us?” Damon shot back, rising to his feet. “You saw how easily he moved through the wards. He’s expecting us to come after him.”Lucas spun to fa







