CHAPTER FIVE: The Silver Wolf Hunts

The forest reeked of blood.

Kael stood at the edge of the ruined clearing, his silver fur streaked with crimson, his claws still wet. The rogues had scattered into the night like ash on the wind, but their stench lingered rot and old magic, an omen he could taste on his tongue.

Around him, Crescent Hollow warriors tended the wounded, but Kael’s gaze wasn’t on them. His pale eyes were fixed on the dark line of trees where she had vanished.

Lyra.

A warrior staggered up behind him, his arm torn open, voice shaking. “The black wolf took her, my lord. He pulled her out during the attack”

Kael turned, slow as a storm. His claws flexed.

“Rowan.”

The name left his lips like a curl.

The surviving elders gathered around the broken stones of the Blood Moon Binding. “This is an omen,” one whispered, her wrinkled hands wringing the beads on her necklace. “The moon rejected her.”

Kael spun on her, his voice a snarl. “The moon rejects nothing. That wolf stole what’s mine.”

“She was promised to you,” another murmured, eyes darting toward the forest. “But the black wolf claimed mate rights”

Kael’s claws slammed into the nearest tree, splintering bark.

“She’s mine,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “And I will drag her back, even if I have to rip through every rogue and shadow that dares stand in my way.”

Kael shifted in a breath silver fur exploding from his skin, muscles snapping, claws biting into the soil.

The Alpha heir rose in his wolf form, larger than any Crescent Hollow warrior, his eyes burning like molten ice.

The hunt began.

His senses sharpened to unbearable clarity the iron tang of rogue blood, the faint thread of Lyra’s scent tangled in mud and fear.

He loped into the forest, every movement a predator’s grace, the ground shaking under his weight.

The deeper Kael ran, the stranger the forest felt.

This wasn’t Crescent Hollow territory anymore it was something older. The trees here twisted unnaturally, roots clawing out of the ground like hands. Mist clung to the earth, and in it, Kael heard whispers.

Not words. Not fully. Just something an echo in the air, as if the forest itself knew what stalked it.

He slowed at a shallow creek, lowering his muzzle. Lyra’s scent was fresher here, mingled with Rowan’s.

Kael’s teeth bared.

He touched her. He carried her.

The thought was a blade twisting in his chest.

A Crescent Hollow scout caught up to him, panting in human form.

“My lord,” the scout gasped, clutching a bleeding arm, “the rogues there’s more of them. We found another trail”

Kael turned on him, towering, fur bristling, eyes glowing.

“Go back,” Kael snapped, his voice carrying even in wolf form, layered with Alpha command. “Stay with the wounded. This hunt is mine.”

The scout hesitated. Kael’s growl dropped lower, darker.

The man backed away.

Kael pressed forward, deeper into the forest.

Then he stopped.

Ahead, etched into the bark of a massive oak, was the same clawed moon rune Rowan and Lyra had seen.

Kael sniffed it, his hackles rising. The mark reeked of magic. Not the moon’s magic.

Something else.

As he stared, his ears flicked whispers.

This time, clearer.

“…wrong heir… wrong bond…”

Kael snarled at the voices.

“Show yourselves,” he snapped.

The forest laughed.

Something lunged from the mist a rogue, larger than most, its white eyes gleaming.

Kael spun, claws flashing, and tore it apart mid-air.

But more came.

Shapes burst from the fog five, then six, then more, an unending tide of rune-marked rogues.

Kael met them head-on, his silver wolf a storm of teeth and fury. He slammed one rogue into a tree so hard its spine snapped, then spun, claws slicing another open.

Blood spattered his fur, hot and slick. He didn’t slow.

But as he fought, he realized something:

These weren’t ordinary rogues.

They weren’t attacking to kill.

They were attacking to delay him.

From the fog, a voice emerged.

Not from the rogues. From somewhere deeper.

“You are not the one the moon chose,” it said, smooth and cold.

Kael froze, his claws buried in a rogue’s chest.

“Who speaks?” he demanded, his voice thick with command.

The mist coiled, shapes shifting within it, and then a figure stepped forward—not fully wolf, not fully man, cloaked in black with the clawed moon rune burning in his chest.

Its eyes were white fire.

“Give her up,” the figure said, voice carrying like distant thunder. “She does not belong to you.”

Kael’s wolf bared its teeth, a low snarl tearing the air.

“She is mine.”

The figure tilted its head, almost amused. “You cling to a promise made in blood and debt. But the bond the true bond ignores such things.”

Kael lunged.

The figure didn’t move.

He vanished.

Kael slammed into empty mist, rage clawing through him.

As Kael stood in the fog, panting, something darker coiled in him a thought he didn’t want but couldn’t stop.

If Lyra chose Rowan if she went willingly what then?

Would he drag her back? Break her bond? Break her?

The thought left him shaken. He shoved it down. But it stayed, gnawing.

The mist thickened, swallowing the trees.

And then the forest went silent.

Kael’s ears twitched. Too quiet.

From behind, a whisper:

“She’s closer than you think.”

Kael spun and the mist split open.

There, just beyond the veil, he saw them:

Lyra.

Standing on a rocky outcrop, her cloak torn, hair tangled, eyes wide.

And beside her Rowan.

The black wolf, massive and defiant, standing protectively in front of her.

Kael’s heart slammed against his ribs. His wolf growled low, ready to leap.

But before he could move

The ground shook.

Roots burst from the earth like snakes, coiling around Kael’s legs, yanking him off balance.

From the mist, dozens of rogues emerged, their white eyes glowing, their voices whispering as one:

“The moon owes us blood. His blood.”

Kael roared, claws flashing as he tore at the roots. But there were too many. They dragged him down, into the dark earth, as Lyra screamed his name

“Kael!” before the mist swallowed everything.