LOGINThe Queen AscendsThe forest clearing glowed under the cold, watchful light of the moon.Silver spilled through the canopy in broken shards, catching on fur, steel, and wary eyes. The trees cast long, jagged shadows across the ground, stretching like claws toward the wolves gathered in uneasy silence. No one spoke. No one dared.At the center of it all stood Rebel.She did not raise her voice. She did not bare her teeth or demand attention. She simply stood—and the forest itself seemed to align around her, roots settling, air thickening, space bending subtly toward her presence.Her aura radiated outward in a slow, deliberate pulse. Not wild. Not uncontrolled. It was the power of restraint sharpened into something lethal.Wolves who had once mocked her, cornered her, struck her when no one was watching now found their bodies betraying them—knees locking, spines bowing, instincts screaming recognition where pride had once ruled. Fear rippled through the pack, not loud but pervasive, si
The Hollow CrownThe forest did not welcome Tahlia anymore.She felt it the moment the others dispersed—when whispers dissolved into obedient silence and the pack’s collective will settled into the soil like ash after a fire. The trees still stood tall and ancient, their trunks unbowed by time or authority, but the air itself had shifted. It no longer leaned toward her presence. No longer recognized her as something that belonged.That realization cut deeper than humiliation ever could.This land had known her scent since she was barely old enough to shift. It had watched her bleed during training, heard her growl through pain, felt the rhythm of her feet as she learned to run and fight beneath its canopy. The forest had swallowed her failures without judgment and carried her victories in silence.Now it felt… sealed against her.She hated that most of all.Tahlia pushed deeper into the territory, boots striking roots and stone harder than necessary, as though sound alone might remind
The Test of Loyalty from Tahlia’s POVMorning came wrong.Tahlia knew it the moment her eyes opened—before the forest sounds reached her, before scent and instinct finished knitting themselves into awareness. There was a weight pressing against the territory, subtle but relentless, like the air before a storm that never quite broke. The forest breathed differently. Too carefully. As though it feared waking something that had claimed the land overnight.She rose before the others, spine straight, movements precise. Discipline had always been her armor. While others relied on strength or charm or Elijah’s favor, Tahlia had relied on control. She braided her dark hair tightly back, tugging once to ensure it would not come loose. Appearances mattered. Perception mattered.This was her pack.It always had been—long before whispers of prophecy, long before outsiders and cursed bloodlines and ancient titles crawled their way into the territory. She had trained here. Bled here. Buried pac
Morning bled slowly into the forest, pale and reluctant, as if even the sun hesitated to touch what had changed overnight.Light filtered through the towering canopy in fractured bands of gold, illuminating Elijah’s territory with a deceptive calm. Dew clung to leaves. Birds stirred cautiously, their calls subdued, uncertain. The forest breathed—but it did so carefully, as though aware that something ancient had awakened within its borders.Life continued.But nothing was the same.Rebel walked beside Elijah in silence, her boots soundless against the soft earth, each step deliberate, precise. She did not rush. She did not hesitate. There was a gravity to her movement now—an unspoken certainty that bent the air around her.The pack felt it.Wolves parted instinctively as she passed. Conversations faltered, then died altogether. Shoulders tightened. Heads dipped—not in choreographed submission, but in something more honest. Recognition. Awareness. Instinct bowing to something it
The forest clearing gaped beneath the moon like a fresh, bleeding wound.Rebel stood at its center, and for a single, terrifying heartbeat, she was certain the earth would open and drag her under—swallow her the way it had every other time she had stood here helpless and alone.The ground vibrated beneath her boots, a low, ominous tremor that traveled up her legs and lodged in her spine. It wasn’t the forest reacting to her power—it was recoiling from it. Green light spiraled violently around her body, snapping and curling in erratic bursts, like wildfire gasping for oxygen. It illuminated the twisted trees, the jagged rocks, and the faces of the Midnight Rose Wolf Pack.Faces she knew.Faces she could never forget.Her chest rose and fell in controlled, deliberate breaths. Too fast, and she would fracture. Too slow, and the memories would drag her under. She balanced on the knife’s edge between control and collapse, every muscle locked tight as if holding herself together by she
The clearing did not truly fall silent—it held its breath.Wind threaded through the trees in low, whispering currents, brushing leaves together as if the forest itself were murmuring warnings. The Midnight Rose Wolf Pack stood scattered at the edges of the clearing, paws shifting nervously, breaths shallow, hearts pounding loud enough to feel. No one dared move. No one dared speak. Every instinct screamed that the slightest misstep would shatter what little safety remained.At the center of it all stood Rebel.She was radiant in a way that defied reason—terrifying and breathtaking all at once. Power rolled off her in visible waves, green-tinged magic coiling around her body like a living crown, alive and watchful. It wrapped her limbs, traced the powerful lines of her shoulders and spine, flared softly with every measured breath she took. She stood tall, grounded, utterly unshakeable. There was no chaos left in her stance now—only control sharpened by fury.She had crossed a thre







