Chapter 14: War Drums

The wolves never reached us.

Before the first Siberian could close its jaws around Niklas's throat, a new sound echoed through the forest. Howling. Deep and low and many.

Niklas's pack.

They poured out of the trees like shadows given form—Germans in their dark furs, their eyes glowing amber and gold. Dimitri led them, his scarred face twisted into a snarl.

"Commander!" he shouted. "We came as soon as we heard!"

Anastasia's smile faltered.

"You brought your whole pack," she said. "To protect one half-blood?"

"To protect my mate." Niklas's voice was steel. "Back down, Anastasia. Or I swear to you, there won't be enough of your Siberians left to bury."

For a long moment, no one moved.

The two packs faced each other across the clearing—whites and blacks, ice and shadow. The air was thick with tension, with the smell of fur and blood and barely contained violence.

Then Anastasia laughed.

"Fine," she said. "Keep your half-blood. For now." She raised her hand, and her wolves retreated. "But the Council won't be so lenient. They've declared war on anyone who harbors the descendant."

"What?"

"You heard me." Anastasia's eyes found mine. "The Council has issued a decree. Elif Demir is to be captured or killed. Anyone who helps her is an enemy of all packs."

She turned and walked into the forest.

Her wolves followed.

Niklas shifted back to human form. Dimitri handed him a cloak, which he wrapped around himself before turning to me.

"We need to go," he said.

"Where?"

"Somewhere the Council can't find us."

"Is there such a place?"

He took my hand. "There's always such a place."

The safe house was an old hunting lodge in the mountains, miles from the stronghold, miles from anyone. It had been in Niklas's family for generations—before his father, before his father's father, before anyone could remember.

"This is where I came after I killed him," Niklas said, pushing open the heavy wooden door. "To heal. To think. To figure out who I was without his voice in my head."

The lodge was small but warm. A fireplace dominated the main room, with a chimney that stretched up through the roof. Furs covered the floor. Antlers hung on the walls.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"It's safe." He bolted the door behind us. "For now."

The next three days were a blur of waiting and watching.

Niklas's pack patrolled the perimeter, their howls echoing through the mountains at all hours. Dimitri brought reports from the stronghold—the Council was mobilizing, the packs were choosing sides, war was coming.

"The Alaskans have pledged neutrality," Dimitri said one evening, standing in the doorway with snow on his shoulders. "The Mongolians are siding with the Council. The Africans haven't decided."

"And the Siberians?"

"Anastasia is gathering her forces. She wants the descendant for herself."

Niklas's jaw tightened. "She'll have to go through me."

"She knows." Dimitri looked at me. "They all know."

He left.

I sat by the fire, my knees pulled to my chest, and stared into the flames.

"Elif." Niklas knelt beside me. "Talk to me."

"What is there to say? Everyone wants me dead or captured. The Council wants to use me. Milos wants to sacrifice me. Anastasia wants to control me." I looked at him. "Why do you want me?"

"Because you're you."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I have."

He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

"I need to be alone," I said.

"Elif—"

"Please."

He stood up. Walked to the door. Paused with his hand on the latch.

"I'm not going to stop fighting for you," he said without turning around. "No matter how many times you push me away."

He left.

I sat alone by the fire and wondered if I was worth all the blood that was about to be spilled.

That night, someone knocked on the door.

Not Niklas. Not Dimitri. A softer knock. Almost hesitant.

I opened it.

Kianuk stood on the threshold, snow falling around his broad shoulders. His dark skin was pale with cold, his ancient eyes tired.

"May I come in?" he asked.

I stepped aside.

He walked to the fire and held his hands out to the flames. The bone necklace around his neck clicked softly with his movements.

"The Council has declared you an enemy of all packs," he said. "Do you know what that means?"

"That everyone is hunting me."

"It means no one can help you. Not openly. Not without risking their own lives." He turned to face me. "I am here because I do not care about the Council's rules. I care about the truth."

"What truth?"

"The truth of what you are." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small leather pouch. "I told you before that the Breath of the Ancestors would help you connect with the wolf inside you. But that was only half the truth."

He opened the pouch and poured the contents into his palm.

A tooth.

Wolf. Ancient. Yellowed with age but still sharp, still gleaming in the firelight.

"This is the tooth of the first Alaskan wolf," Kianuk said. "The one who walked beside the First Wolf before the First Wolf slept. It has been passed down through my family for generations."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"Because it belongs to you." He held it out. "The first Alaskan wolf was a half-blood. Like you. Like me. She understood that the bridge between worlds is not a weakness. It is a gift."

I took the tooth.

It was warm in my palm. Warmer than it should have been.

"This tooth will awaken your true power," Kianuk continued. "Not the power of the First Wolf's blood. Your power. The power you were born with, before the world told you it was a curse."

"How do I use it?"

"Press it to your heart. And let yourself become."

He walked to the door.

"Kianuk."

He paused.

"Thank you," I said.

He smiled—sad and gentle and knowing. "Do not thank me, Elif Demir. Thank the wolf who chose you. And the girl who refused to stay caged."

He left.

I stood alone in the lodge, the tooth warm in my hand, the fire crackling at my back.

Press it to your heart, he had said.

I did.

The transformation was different this time.

Not painful. Not violent. It was like sinking into warm water, like falling asleep, like coming home.

My bones didn't crack. They flowed. My skin didn't tear. It stretched. The wolf didn't fight me. It welcomed me.

When I opened my eyes, I was standing on four legs.

I walked to the mirror on the wall and looked at myself.

A wolf.

White as snow. Eyes the color of the sky on a summer day. Blue.

Not amber. Not gold. Blue.

The same blue as the flames in the fireplace. The same blue as the tooth in my hand—except my hand was a paw now, and the tooth was gone, absorbed into my skin, into my blood, into my soul.

I howled.

The sound was beautiful. High and clear and pure. It echoed through the lodge, through the mountains, through the night.

And somewhere in the distance, another wolf howled back.

Niklas.

I shifted back to human form easily. Gracefully. Like I had been doing it my whole life.

When Niklas burst through the door, I was standing by the fire, wearing nothing but my own skin.

"Elif!" He stopped in the doorway, his eyes wide. "I heard—are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine." I smiled. "I'm better than fine."

He stared at me. His gaze traveled from my face to my body and back again.

"Your eyes," he said. "They're different."

"I know."

"What happened?"

I told him. About Kianuk. About the tooth. About the transformation.

When I finished, Niklas was silent for a long moment.

"You're not a half-blood," he said finally. "You're not even a descendant."

"Then what am I?"

"You're something new." He stepped closer. "Something the world has never seen before."

"Does that scare you?"

"No." He touched my face. "It makes me love you more."

I leaned into his touch.

And for the first time, I didn't push him away.

The war came the next morning.

Dimitri burst into the lodge at dawn, his face pale, his clothes torn.

"Commander! The Siberians are marching. Anastasia has allied with the Mongolians. They'll be here by nightfall."

Niklas was on his feet in an instant. "How many?"

"Three hundred. Maybe more."

"And our forces?"

"Two hundred. Maybe less."

Niklas swore. He turned to me.

"You need to leave. Now. Take the back trail into the mountains. I'll send Dimitri with you."

"No."

"Elif—"

"I said no." I stood up. "I'm not running. I'm done running."

"This isn't a game. These are real wolves. Real weapons. Real death."

"I know." I walked to the door and looked out at the snow-covered mountains. "But I'm not just a half-blood anymore. I'm not just a descendant. I'm something else. And it's time I found out what."

I turned to face him.

"Let me fight."

Niklas stared at me.

And then he nodded.

The battle began at sunset.

The Siberians came down from the north, their white fur blending with the snow. The Mongolians came from the east, their war cries echoing through the valleys.

Niklas's pack met them in the meadow below the lodge.

I stood on a rocky outcropping above the battlefield, watching the two armies crash together. Fur and fangs and blood. So much blood.

Niklas was in the center of the fighting, his black wolf form tearing through the enemy ranks. Dimitri fought at his side. The Germans fought like demons.

But there were too many.

For every Siberian they killed, two more took their place. For every Mongolian they drove back, three more advanced.

They were losing.

I shifted.

Not into my old wolf form—the brown, half-formed creature I had been before. Into my new form.

White fur. Blue eyes. Muscles that coiled with power I had never dreamed of.

I leaped.

The Siberians didn't see me coming.

I landed in their midst like a falling star. My claws tore through fur and flesh. My teeth found throats. My body moved like water, like wind, like nothing they had ever fought before.

They scattered.

I chased them.

Across the meadow, through the trees, up the slopes of the mountain. I killed until my muzzle was red with blood. I fought until my muscles burned.

And then I saw her.

Anastasia.

She was in wolf form too—white like her pack, but bigger. Older. Crueler.

Her eyes found mine.

Half-blood, she growled in my mind. You should have stayed hidden.

I'm done hiding.

I lunged.

We crashed together like two avalanches—fur and fangs and fury. She was strong. Experienced. She had been fighting longer than I had been alive.

But I was fast.

I dodged her claws, twisted away from her teeth, struck when she least expected it. My jaws closed around her throat.

Submit, I snarled.

Never.

I tightened my grip.

She gasped. Choked. Her struggles weakened.

Submit, I said again.

And then—

"Hello, husband."

The voice came from behind me.

I released Anastasia and spun around.

A woman stood at the edge of the meadow.

She was beautiful. Blonde hair. Green eyes. A face that belonged on a painting, not on a battlefield. She was wearing white—not fur, but silk. Like she had come from a party, not a war.

Niklas shifted back to human form. His face went pale.

"Liesel," he whispered.

The woman smiled.

"Did you miss me?" she asked. "I missed you."

She walked toward him.

Niklas didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared at her like he was seeing a ghost.

"Liesel is dead," he said. "You're dead. I watched them bury you."

"You watched them bury an empty coffin, darling." She stopped in front of him. "I've been waiting for the right moment to come back. And this—" she gestured at the battlefield, at me, at the chaos around us "—this seemed like the perfect opportunity."

"Why?"

"Because of her." Liesel's eyes found mine. "The half-blood. The descendant. The thing you've been chasing for ten years."

"She's not a thing."

"No. She's a distraction." Liesel reached out and touched Niklas's face. "But don't worry. I'll take care of her. And then we can go back to the way things were."

"Liesel—"

"Hush, darling." She pressed her finger to his lips. "Let me handle this."

She turned to face me.

"So," she said. "You're the one who stole my husband's heart."

"He's not your husband anymore."

"He'll always be my husband. Death didn't part us. And neither will you." She smiled. "Now, shall we dance?"

She shifted.

Not into a wolf.

Into something else.

Something wrong.

Her body twisted and grew. Her skin turned gray. Her eyes turned red. Her teeth—hundreds of them—sprouted from her gums like needles.

I had never seen anything like her.

"Surprised?" she asked, her voice distorted by her new form. "The Council didn't just give me a new identity. They gave me a new body. One that can't be killed by a half-blood."

She lunged.

I dodged.

But she was faster than Anastasia. Stronger. Crueler.

Her claws raked across my side. I felt them cut through fur and skin and muscle. Blood sprayed across the snow.

"Elif!" Niklas shouted.

I fell.

Liesel stood over me, her red eyes gleaming.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make it quick."

She raised her claws for the killing blow.

And then—