Chapter 3

"Chapter 3”

Alara woke from a restless sleep with her heart hammering in her chest, dawn’s gentle light seeping through the narrow window of her room in Alpha Ezra’s fortress. She had dreamed of swirling shapes again, shifting darkness that receded into a distant, comforting voice.

Over the past days, that voice had grown steadily more distinct, and now she woke certain it was reaching out to her. She lay there for a moment, pressing her palm against the worn sheet, trying to remember more details before the dream could slip away.

Asena. She breathed the name that hovered in the back of her mind, recalling flashes of white fur and a kind of inner warmth that pulsed in her chest. She still barely understood her wolf, but the sense of her presence was undeniable.

Something within Alara was awakening, and though the thought thrilled her, it also stoked a quiet fear. She was not sure whom to trust in this fortress; danger lurked in the corridors alongside the faint glimmers of kindness she had begun to see.

Rising from the bed, Alara combed her fingers through her dark hair and changed into a simple tunic. She gently tested a bruise on her shoulder, relieved to find the pain easing day by day. Though she would never forgive her father for his cruelty, she could not help but appreciate that at least no one here had raised a hand against her. Yet.

A swirl of worry accompanied her thoughts of Tanya. The woman’s piercing hazel eyes and mocking smiles haunted Alara. The memory of Tanya commanding her to stay in her place, warning that she was only tolerated in this pack, still stung. But as Alara slipped out into the corridor, she resolved not to cower. She had survived under her father’s tyranny; she would survive here.

She passed a few servants carrying linens and trays. Most avoided eye contact, but one older woman offered a brief nod. The unexpected show of acknowledgment, however subtle, made Alara stand a little straighter.

Perhaps word had spread that she was no longer merely a frightened servant, that she had begun helping around the fortress wherever she could. She reminded herself that trust could grow slowly—one kind gesture at a time.

As she wandered deeper into the fortress, the bustle of the morning grew. Warriors clattered through the halls in groups of two or three, discussing patrols. Servants in rumpled aprons scrubbed floors and polished candelabras.

A few peered curiously at Alara, but none glared or sneered like they might have mere days earlier. She still felt like an outsider; however, the hostility was less open. In its place, a subdued cautiousness clung to each glance.

In an archway leading toward the kitchens, she came across two young warriors sparring with practice swords. She paused, watching their swift footwork. One warrior noticed her and offered a tentative half-smile before returning to the drill. Alara smiled back, a soft warmth stirring in her chest. She was not sure she would ever truly belong here, but tiny moments of acceptance meant more than she cared to admit.

Turning away, she ventured toward quieter halls. Eventually, the murmur of voices reached her ears, and she instinctively slowed her steps. She recognized the clipped tones of Tanya, though the other speaker was unfamiliar at first.

Pressing herself against the cool stone wall, Alara carefully inched forward. A wide pillar cast a shadow, providing partial concealment. From that vantage, she peered around to see Tanya speaking with Elder Cyrus—a figure Alara had caught glimpses of since her arrival, always in the background, observing.

Cyrus stood with his arms folded, his close-cropped hair streaked with silver. His gaze was fixed on Tanya, who spoke in a low, urgent voice. Though Alara could not see Tanya’s face clearly, she heard the tense undercurrent in both of their tones.

“We cannot push too quickly,” Cyrus said, voice measured yet stern.

Tanya’s response was tight, her frustration palpable. “The Alpha’s suspicions grow by the day. If we wait too long, our influence might slip.”

Alara’s heart thudded. Though she could not hear every word, what she did catch hinted at more than mere gossip. She remembered Tanya’s earlier hostility and felt a shiver of unease.

Tanya lowered her voice. “Recruiting a handful of elders is not enough. We need a decisive shift in power, and the girl’s presence complicates things. Her mother’s lineage could be more valuable than we realized.”

Alara’s pulse quickened. She leaned forward, straining to hear.

Cyrus exhaled. “Rumors, nothing more. She shows no sign of extraordinary power. But if your concerns are valid… then she may prove dangerous if aligned with the Alpha. We tread carefully.”

Tanya let out a quiet laugh. “Careful or not, we must be prepared. If she becomes more than a docile pawn, we deal with her. And if the Alpha resists? We force his hand. Our allies are waiting for a single moment of weakness.”

A wave of dread coursed through Alara. She pressed herself flatter against the wall, desperate to remain undetected. Tanya’s words confirmed that there were indeed manipulative intentions stirring in the fortress—ones that directly threatened Alpha Ezra.

Alara had suspected Tanya’s jealousy, but this was far more sinister. Even Cyrus, who wore the elder’s mantle of respect, was part of some hidden agenda.

Sensing the conversation might end soon, Alara stole back the way she had come, footsteps light on the stone floor. Her mind whirled with the implications of what she had overheard.

Tanya and Cyrus plotting against Ezra, possibly harnessing the negative sentiment of those dissatisfied with his leadership. And her own presence—the daughter of Luna Elaina—was a potential fulcrum in their scheme. She felt ill at the thought.

By the time she finally stopped in an alcove near the fortress’s older wing, her breathing was ragged, her hands trembling. She desperately wanted to run to Ezra and warn him. But her imagination conjured Tanya’s mocking face, the possibility that the Alpha might dismiss her concerns or—worse—suspect her of lying. The memory of her father’s castle and how quickly accusations could be turned against the powerless still haunted her.

After grappling with her fears, she decided she could not stay silent. But neither could she risk alerting Tanya or Cyrus that she had overheard them. Damien and Lucas had shown concern for her well-being, and both outranked her in the pack. Perhaps, if she trusted them enough to share what she had heard, they would know how to handle it.

Steeling herself, she made her way to the training grounds, an open courtyard surrounded by tall stone walls. Damien and Lucas were often there, assessing warriors or reviewing patrol reports. Sure enough, she spotted Damien discussing something with two warriors, while Lucas inspected a new shipment of training weapons. With a flutter of nerves, she approached them.

Damien caught sight of her anxious expression and dismissed the warriors. Lucas placed the sword he was examining onto a rack and turned to face Alara.

Damien spoke first, voice soft with concern. “Alara, you look shaken. Did something happen?”

She took a moment to steady her breath. “I overheard Tanya speaking with Elder Cyrus. They were talking about recruiting allies, about undermining Alpha Ezra’s authority. They mentioned me, my mother’s lineage… and how they might ‘deal with me’ if I become a threat.”

Lucas exchanged a troubled glance with Damien. “We suspected Tanya was manipulative, but this suggests treachery on a much deeper level. Cyrus has always been influential among the elders.”

Alara nodded, pressing her trembling hands together. “I do not know what to do. I want to warn the Alpha, but what if he does not believe me? Tanya has his ear, and Cyrus holds power.”

Damien gazed at her intently, then gently guided her toward a quieter corner of the yard. “We cannot confront them yet without evidence or support. If we accuse them openly, they will simply claim you are lying.”

Lucas crossed his arms, expression grim. “Ezra is no fool, but Tanya has been close to him since his mate’s death. Cyrus is respected. Their influence runs deep. If we alert Ezra right now, they could twist it against you, especially if you cannot prove what you heard.”

Alara swallowed hard. “I feared as much.”

Damien’s eyes flickered with resolve. “We will gather information first. We must confirm enough of their activities that Ezra cannot dismiss it as hearsay. Meanwhile, you must be cautious. Stay away from Tanya whenever possible. Let us handle the investigating.”

Relief mingled with worry in Alara’s chest. “Thank you for believing me. If they realized I heard them…” She did not finish the sentence, but the fear in her voice was plain.

Lucas nodded. “We will do our best to keep you safe. Damien and I have allies in the fortress—warriors and perhaps an elder or two who might be swayed. But we need time.”

Alara exhaled shakily, grateful to have someone to confide in. She trusted Damien and Lucas more than anyone else in this fortress. “Then I will keep silent and continue as before, acting like I know nothing. If I learn anything else, I will tell you immediately.”

Damien reached out and gripped her shoulder gently. “You did the right thing, Alara. We will find a way to protect the Alpha from their betrayal and keep you out of harm’s way.”

She managed a tight smile, though anxiety still churned in her stomach. “Thank you. Truly.”

They parted ways, leaving Alara alone with the burden of what she had overheard. Even so, a tiny seed of hope took root in her heart. She was not alone in this. Despite being a newcomer, she had found allies willing to trust her word over Tanya’s manipulative facade. The fortress might be shrouded in hidden threats, but she refused to cower in the shadows.

A short while later, as she tried to calm her nerves by busying herself with small tasks, Beta Damien approached her again. He glanced around, ensuring no one hovered within earshot, then signaled for her to follow him to a less-traveled corridor near the fortress archives.

He spoke in a hushed tone, clearly mindful of the ongoing tension. “I know you’re interested in learning more about your mother’s lineage. It could be crucial to understanding why Tanya sees you as a threat. And maybe it will help us discover why your father never allowed you to explore that side of your heritage.”

Alara felt a quiver of both excitement and unease. “I have so few memories of her. I recall her warmth, her healing touch, but nothing about her origins.”

Damien nodded. “The fortress keeps sparse genealogical records, but I recall references to old alliances and bloodlines from years past. If your mother, Luna Elaina, was of a rare lineage, there may be something about her in the older archives. It’s a stretch, but worth a look.”

She steadied her breathing. “I appreciate your help. Where do we begin?”

“In the lower archives,” he replied. “It’s mostly dusty scrolls and ledgers, but we might find mention of your mother’s name or references to her side of the family.”

They made their way down a spiral staircase leading to a cramped hallway. A single torch flickered on the wall, illuminating heavy wooden doors. Damien pulled one open to reveal a room lined with shelves and cabinets stuffed with rolled parchment and crumbling tomes. The smell of old paper and ancient dust made Alara’s nose tingle.

A lone clerk, an older man with spectacles perched on his nose, sat at a small desk, poring over a ledger. He looked up with mild surprise at Damien and Alara’s entrance.

“Beta Damien,” the man said, pushing his spectacles higher. “Anything I can help you with?”

Damien offered a reassuring smile. “We’re here on a private matter, Alden. Just looking for some older genealogical records, if you can point us in the right direction.”

Alden blinked curiously at Alara. “Genealogy? Ah, the references to inter-pack alliances and lineages from… oh dear, that goes back decades, maybe centuries. You’ll want the shelves near the far corner. My indexing system is a bit outdated, but do your best not to lose track of anything.”

“Thank you, Alden,” Damien said. “We’ll be careful.”

Alara followed him to the back of the archives, weaving through aisles of tall shelves, each overflowing with dusty scrolls. The dim torchlight flickered, creating dancing shadows that made the cramped space feel a bit eerie.

Damien ran a hand along the spines of ancient tomes. “We might start with records around the time your mother would have first entered your father’s pack. There could be mention of her origins, especially if there was an alliance or a special ceremony.”

Alara nodded, already rolling up her sleeves. The thought of discovering more about her mother felt both thrilling and deeply unsettling, as though she were about to uncover a piece of herself long buried. “Let’s try that shelf. It looks like it might hold volumes from around the time I was born.”

They spent the next couple of hours methodically scanning worn spines and unrolling parchment. Occasionally, Damien would read out a name or a reference to a union between packs, but nothing resembled Elaina’s lineage. Alara’s eyes watered from the dust as she carefully turned pages of a brittle book that threatened to crumble in her hands.

Finally, she stumbled upon a small slip of parchment tucked inside a thick ledger. The script was faded, but she recognized her father’s name—Alpha Marcus—and her mother’s name, Elaina, side by side. Her pulse kicked up.

“Damien,” she whispered, voice tight. “I found something.”

He moved closer, and together they carefully examined the slip of parchment. It was a short notation recording what appeared to be a ceremonial acceptance of Elaina into Marcus’s pack, referencing a union that would bolster the pack’s status. Words like unusual heritage and rumored healing gift caught Alara’s eye.

She read aloud, hands trembling, “Elaina of the… I can’t make this out. An older line… possibly from the western mountains? It says, ‘…whose maternal blood is rumored to carry healing, accepted as Luna…’ This part is smudged: ‘…rare potential. Observed by Elder Rowan of the western region…’ Then it ends.”

Damien frowned. “Healing? That might explain your mother’s ability to help injured pack members in secret. And Elder Rowan… I’m not familiar with that name.”

Alara tried to read more, but the ink had bled in places. “This is so little to go on.” She exhaled, frustration pricking her eyes. “But at least it confirms she had a recognized gift. And she came from the west.”

Damien set the slip of parchment aside carefully. “We can keep looking. If the western region had an elder named Rowan, perhaps there are further mentions of them or that territory. This could hint at a connection to certain old packs believed to have magical ties.”

Hope fluttered in Alara’s chest. “It’s more than I ever knew. My father never said a word about this. He acted as though her gifts were a curse, or maybe a shameful secret. But it appears that at first, they saw it as a benefit to the pack.”

Damien placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your father might have changed after your mother’s death, or he learned something that made him resent her lineage. Hard to say. Let’s see if we can find more references. This slip suggests that at least some in the pack recognized her gift openly.”

They pressed on, rummaging through more ledgers and scrolls. Eventually, they found a heavier tome listing births, deaths, and notable events from various packs. Flipping through pages, Alara’s eyes snagged on another small passage: a mention of a rumored line descending from a figure called the White Shaman—an ancient title once associated with extraordinary healing powers and lunar magic.

Damien let out a low whistle. “I heard legends of a ‘White Shaman’ from travelers. Supposedly, certain families carried a fragment of that power through the generations. Some dismissed it as folklore.”

Alara’s throat tightened. She traced the text with her fingertip. “It says, ‘While the White Shaman’s direct line is thought lost, a few rumored descendants appear every century, bearing healing or protective magic. Their wolves, when awakened, sometimes manifest an unusual coloring…’”

Her breath caught as she recalled the dream images of her own wolf, pure white, crackling with energy. Could her mother’s family truly descend from this legendary lineage? The notion both exhilarated and frightened her.

Damien’s voice grew gentler. “This could be a key to understanding why Tanya sees you as a potential threat, or why Elder Cyrus is so concerned. If your mother came from that line, you might manifest abilities that shift the pack’s balance of power.”

Alara swallowed hard. “And if they suspect I could awaken these abilities, they might want to eliminate me, or manipulate me for their own ends. That aligns with what they said about me becoming a threat.”

Damien nodded grimly. “We will keep this between us for now. If your wolf truly is connected to this rumored lineage, you’ll need time to strengthen yourself before confronting anyone who wants to control it.”

She closed the tome and clutched it to her chest, momentarily overwhelmed. “I can’t believe I’m finding this out now. All these years, I thought I was just… broken. That my wolf was dormant because of my father’s cruelty.”

His expression softened. “Your father’s cruelty may have driven your wolf to stay silent, but clearly there is more to your story. Maybe it took leaving his oppressive environment for your bond with Asena to rekindle.”

She let out a shaky breath, hugging the tome. “I want to learn everything I can about this. If I do have a gift, or some kind of magic, I refuse to let Tanya twist it for her own gain.”

Damien gave her a small, reassuring smile. “We should put these records back for now, before we draw attention. Let’s keep the slip of parchment safe. I’ll hide it where only Lucas and I can retrieve it.”

Together, they gently replaced the books and scrolls in their places on the shelves, mindful not to disturb anything else. Alara handed over the slip of parchment containing her mother’s name and the reference to Elder Rowan, feeling both relief and unease as Damien tucked it into his vest.

As they made their way out, Alden the clerk glanced up, then peered curiously at them. “Find anything useful?”

Damien offered a polite smile. “A few small details, nothing remarkable. Thank you for your assistance.”

The older man shrugged. “Very well. If you need more records, just ask.”

They left the archives and headed into the corridor. As they parted, Damien squeezed Alara’s shoulder gently. “Remember, say nothing to the Alpha yet about Tanya’s plot or this new information on your lineage. We need more solid ground before we risk exposing everything.”

Alara nodded, determination sparking in her eyes. “Understood. Thank you for helping me.”

He inclined his head. “We’re in this together. If Tanya and Cyrus truly plan to destabilize the pack, we’ll need every advantage we can get. Your mother’s legacy could be exactly that, assuming we can unlock its secrets.”

With a final, encouraging nod, he strode away, leaving Alara feeling a mingled sense of awe and dread. She had found a shred of truth about her heritage—one that linked her to ancient legends of healing and a white wolf. A silent thrill ran through her, recalling how Asena’s voice comforted her in dreams. Perhaps the rumors were not just myths.

As the day wore on, Alara resumed her minor tasks. She spoke to no one of her discoveries, nor of the conspiracy with Tanya and Elder Cyrus. Yet her mind churned with what she had learned, and a new spark of confidence lit her steps. Though she remained vigilant, glancing warily over her shoulder whenever she sensed Tanya’s presence, she also felt a growing faith that she possessed more than fear.

By evening, rumors circulated once again that Tanya had visited Elder Cyrus. Alara kept her distance, focusing on small chores in the kitchens, occasionally trading polite smiles with the other staff. She held firm to Damien’s advice: gather strength, remain silent, and wait.

Meanwhile, word spread through the fortress that Alpha Ezra had spent the afternoon meeting with various elders to discuss border tensions. When Alara overheard a pair of warriors mentioning that the Alpha might summon her again soon, her heart fluttered. Part of her dreaded another close encounter with him—fearing her secrets might betray her—but another part longed to see the glimmer of empathy she had glimpsed earlier.

Sure enough, later that night a guard came knocking, summoning her to the west library, where Ezra waited. Her nerves flared, remembering everything she carried inside her: the knowledge of a looming plot, the faint scrawl of her mother’s recorded heritage, and her own uncertain wolf stirring more each day. Yet she steadied herself with a deep breath. She had resolved to trust Damien and Lucas’s plan, and for now, she would keep Tanya’s plot hidden.

The west library, though smaller than the main one, housed rows of leather-bound tomes that smelled faintly of parchment and dust. She stepped inside to see Ezra standing at a table near an arched window. He wore a dark tunic, the soft light illuminating the planes of his face. At her entrance, he turned, offering a curt nod.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, voice guarded.

Alara clasped her hands. “Of course, Alpha.”

A flicker of something—regret or uncertainty—passed across his features. He gestured to an open seat on the other side of the small table. “Sit, if you like.”

She obliged, her heart still hammering. Though she felt the heavy weight of Tanya’s conspiracy pressing on her mind, she dared not mention it, remembering Lucas and Damien’s advice. Instead, she tried to compose herself. Ezra remained standing at first, glancing toward the window where moonlight filtered in.

“I have been thinking about your situation, how you came to be here. I realize I have not… properly asked how you are adapting.” His tone was stiff, as though each word was an admission.

Surprised by his sincerity, she looked up. “I… I am adapting as best I can. The fortress is large, and most in your pack do not know what to make of me. But I have managed.”

He shifted, crossing his arms. “You have taken on chores? I have heard you have been assisting in the kitchens and storerooms, even though you were forced to do such work under your father’s cruelty.”

She nodded. “I would rather be useful than idle. It also helps me learn my way around. People are less suspicious when they see me contributing.”

Ezra inclined his head, stepping closer to the table. “I suppose it is wise, though not something I intended. I am aware your father treated you as a servant for years. That will not be your role here, unless you choose it. Your future… is less certain, but it does not have to mirror your past.”

A strange warmth curled in Alara’s chest. She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “Thank you. That means more than you know. I had not expected you to consider my comfort, given how I was forced upon you.”

He exhaled softly, looking away. “Perhaps I have been trying to keep my distance, to avoid complications. But it seems there is always some rumor about your mother’s bloodline or your father’s schemes. I find myself wanting to know your perspective, how you truly feel.”

Her breath caught. She laced her fingers together, searching for the right words. “I never asked to be the daughter of an Alpha or to have my mother’s rumored magic. All I want is to figure out who I am without cruelty or manipulation. For so long, I had no choices. Now, I still feel caged, but maybe… a kinder cage than before.”

Ezra’s brow furrowed. “I do not wish you to feel caged. This fortress can be harsh, but I would prefer you see it as a home, not a prison.”

A pang of emotion caught her off guard. She recalled the glimpses of genuine concern she had seen in him, behind the hardened facade. “I know. And I realize you have your reasons for caution.”

He hesitated, then sank into the chair opposite hers, leaning his forearms on the table. “I lost my mate in a savage attack. That wound still bleeds, no matter how I hide it. Tanya has… helped me maintain order. But I see now that I may have grown reliant on her perspective. Perhaps too reliant.”

Alara’s heart fluttered. She sensed the pain beneath his words, the conflict within him. “I am sorry for your loss,” she said quietly. “I cannot imagine how difficult that must be.”

For a long moment, Ezra studied the grain of the wooden table. “Nothing can replace her, nor fix the bitterness I feel. But even I can sense something here is not right. Tensions in the pack are rising, and I cannot pinpoint why. I wonder if your presence, or your mother’s lineage, might be a piece of that puzzle.”

Alara’s stomach twisted at the reminder of what she had overheard earlier, but she kept her composure. “I wish I could say differently. I know so little of my mother’s magic. I barely even remember her voice.”

His gaze returned to her, softer now. “Does that frighten you? The possibility that you carry a power you cannot control?”

She considered the recent stirrings of Asena, the flickers of warmth and possibility under her skin. “Sometimes, yes. But it also gives me hope that I can be something more than a tool.”

Ezra nodded, a subtle tension leaving his shoulders. “I suppose that is true for both of us. If your mother’s legacy is real, it could be significant. Yet it could also stir envy or fear among those who seek power.”

She swallowed, heart pounding, as she recalled Tanya’s ambitions. “I have noticed how rumors spread. This pack thrives on whispers.”

He reached across the table, almost hesitating before his fingertips brushed hers. “If at any point you find yourself threatened, you must come to me. I will not tolerate harm befalling someone in my protection. Not again.”

A rush of warmth flared where his skin touched hers. Shocked by the kindness in his gesture, she found herself momentarily speechless. Then she summoned the courage to gently curl her fingers around his, just enough to convey that she understood. “I will remember that.”

Their eyes locked for a moment that stretched taut with emotion. She felt the heat of his presence, the swirl of apprehension and something like gratitude swirling in her mind. Then, realizing how closely they were seated, he pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. The distance returned between them, though the memory of his brief touch lingered.

He stood, pacing a short distance to the shelf of old tomes lining the wall. “I called you here to see if you wanted access to these volumes on werewolf ancestry. They may contain mentions of your mother’s line.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “You would let me read them?”

He gave a short nod. “Yes. I have no use for them personally, and I suspect if your mother was truly part of a special lineage, it might be recorded. Knowledge cannot harm you, but ignorance might.”

She rose, stepping tentatively toward the shelves. Her fingers traced the spines of the books. “Thank you. I… appreciate the chance to learn more about who I am.”

Ezra glanced at her, expression thoughtful. “I will give orders for you to have free access to this library when you wish, within reason. If you find anything that stands out, let me know. We might piece together the truth.”

Alara managed a small, genuine smile. “I will.”

Silence settled over them, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Though she could not reveal Tanya’s conspiracy, she sensed that hint of vulnerability in the Alpha, a man scarred by loss but not entirely closed off to compassion. She felt it in the way he allowed her into this library, the faint brush of his fingers on hers, and in his quiet admission of uncertainty.

At length, he spoke again, voice gentler. “I will walk you back to your corridor. It is late.”

She dipped her head. “Yes, thank you.”

They left the library side by side. Alara’s heart thumped at the closeness of his presence, the echo of the earlier warmth they had shared. They passed only a few wandering servants in the halls, who discreetly averted their gazes. When they reached the small corridor near her room, Ezra paused, glancing at her door.

He spoke softly, as though reluctant to disturb the hush of night. “If you need anything, come to me. I will do what I can to help.”

She nodded, words catching in her throat. “Good night, Alpha.”

Without another word, he turned and strode away, his footsteps fading into the gloom. Alara exhaled slowly, entering her room and leaning against the closed door. Her heart still beat fast, and she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to make sense of the swirl of emotions. She had seen a glimpse of something kinder in him—an empathetic soul behind the hardened exterior. Though she knew he remained guarded, the encounter left her feeling unexpectedly hopeful.

Setting aside her anxious thoughts about Tanya, she readied herself for bed, changed into a loose nightgown, and tried to calm her mind. Yet the moment her head touched the thin pillow, she felt Asena’s presence stir once more, a comforting hum at the base of her consciousness. Exhaustion overtook her quickly, and she slipped into a dream.

Like before, the dream began with swirling shapes, shadows in half-lit corridors. The fortress loomed around her, dim torches casting flickering light. But this time, the images sharpened. She saw flashes of wolves locked in battle, muzzle to muzzle, teeth bared. Echoes of snarls and roars reverberated off the high walls. A pungent scent of fear and blood tingled in her nose.

Then came a thunderous image: a black wolf pinned against a broken pillar, fighting for breath. Another wolf loomed overhead, eyes burning with malice, bearing the mark of an unfamiliar crest. Alara wanted to scream a warning, but the scene changed—she was running, only she had four legs instead of two, her body low to the ground, muscles brimming with electric energy. A swirl of white fur framed her vision, and she knew this was her own wolf form, fully awakened. Power pulsed through every stride, burning bright as though fueled by moonlight.

Her breath caught as the dream intensified. She saw glimpses of a swirling magical aura, felt the ground tremble with each clash of powerful wolves, and sensed betrayal in the corridors. Through the chaos, she heard Asena’s voice, clearer than ever: You must be prepared. I will help you stand.

Alara jolted awake, sweat beading on her brow. Her heart pounded violently as she struggled to slow her breathing. The echo of the battle scene lingered behind her eyes, and she could almost smell the tang of blood and hear the anguished howls. Pressing a shaky hand to her chest, she let out a trembling exhale. The swirling dread in her stomach calmed slightly when she realized she was safe in her room, not in the midst of a violent clash.

Yet she could not deny that the dream felt less like an ordinary nightmare and more like a warning—or a vision of what might come. A swirl of emotions surged inside her: fear, awe at the possibility of wielding such power, and a flicker of protectiveness when she recalled the black wolf pinned beneath a foe. Could that have been Ezra? The thought shook her further.

Restless and unable to settle, she rose and lit a small lamp on the bedside table. The warm glow illuminated the simple chamber, chasing away shadows in the corners. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes, trying to recapture Asena’s final words: You must be prepared. I will help you stand.

A shaky breath escaped her lips. Whether prophecy or mere nightmare, it bore an urgent reminder that trouble brewed beneath the fortress’s surface. The memory of Tanya and Elder Cyrus’s scheme loomed large. She thought of the determined vow Damien and Lucas had made to gather evidence, and the half-shared confidences in the library with the Alpha.

Her destiny, it seemed, was bound up with this pack’s fate, no matter how she had been forced here. The awareness both frightened and galvanized her. She would not stand idly by while betrayal closed in around Ezra and the pack, nor would she continue to be a powerless pawn. The flicker of her mother’s lineage, the stirring of her wolf—it all signaled that she had a part to play.

In that silent room, she allowed herself to hope that, if the time came, she could protect those who needed it. She would heed Asena’s call to embrace the power within her, though she knew neither how nor when it might fully manifest. Hugging her knees to her chest, she whispered into the stillness, “I’m listening.”

The faint echoes of Asena’s presence warmed her heart as she finally lay down again. Though the air seemed heavy with approaching storms, the memory of the Alpha’s guarded kindness and the promise of her wolf’s awakening lent her resolve. Tomorrow she would rise and face another day, keeping her secrets close until she and her allies could unmask the threat lurking within these walls.