THE ICE ALPHA RAIDER

A scream ripped through the night. I bolted upright in bed, my heart already pounding before I even knew why.

Smoke hit me first, sharp and choking, then the metallic bite of blood underneath it. Howls echoed across the valley, too many and too close.

Our sentries answered, but their voices sounded small, scared even,almost pleading.

Mama burst into the room, eyes wide in the firelight. She wore only her nightshift, hair loose and tangled, silver dagger already in her fist.

“Aira, get up. Now.” Her voice cracked, just a little.

Papa was right behind her, shirtless, the long scar on his ribs catching the glow.

He held the ironwood staff he only used when shifting wasn't an option. His gaze darted to the window, shadows moving beyond the glass.

“We’re under attack,” he said, calm even as the room seemed to splinter around us. “Kael Draven’s wolves.”

Mama knelt in front of me and took my face in both hands. Her fingers were freezing, trembling just enough to make my stomach knot.

“Listen to me, my brave girl.” She swallowed hard.

“You are our heart. No matter what happens tonight, you live. You carry us on. Do you understand?”

I nodded,my throat too tight for words. Tears burned, but I forced them back.

Papa knelt beside her. He pressed Grandmother’s silver pendant into my palm, the crescent moon with three tiny stars. The metal felt warm, almost alive.

“This kept her safe through nights worse than this one,” he said quietly. “Now it’s yours. Hold it close.”

He looked at Mama, and something silent passed between them. Then he turned back to me.

“We love you, Aira. More than the moon loves the tide. More than breath itself. Remember that.”

Mama pulled me into a fierce hug, her heart thundering against mine. “We love you,” she whispered into my hair. “Always.”

The front door downstairs shattered, wood cracking like gunfire.

Papa rose quickly. “Mira!”he called out

Mira slipped in from the shadows. She was Nineteen, braid swinging, already dressed for the cold.

She’d been my shadow since I could walk, showing me how to track, how to throw a knife, how to stay silent. Tonight her eyes were steady as steel.

“Take her east,” Papa told her. “The ridge above Blackthorn Creek. Find the rogue camp and show them this.”

He pressed a small carved wolf rune into her hand. “They’ll know it means sanctuary. Go. Now.”

Mira nodded once. She grabbed my wrist. “Come on, little wolf.”

Papa’s eyes locked on mine, wild with the firelight and something deeper a terror id never seen before

“Aira,” he rasped, gripping my arms. “The alpha leading them is Kael Draven. Say his name. Burn it into your mind.”

I nodded, frozen.

“He’s the one who leaves no survivors. Packs whisper his name like a curse. His known as the Ice wolf.

He was betrayed once in his pack his parents and siblings were slaughtered and he was left with nothing.

Now he takes it all from everyone else with No mercy and no second chances. He burns villages to the ground and walks away clean.

That’s who’s downstairs. That’s why you run faster than you’ve ever run. He won’t stop until the last wolf of our blood is dead.”

His voice cracked on the last word. “Live, little wolf For us Promise me you will live.”

I nodded again, throat burning, the silver pendant suddenly heavy against my skin.

“I promise,” I whispered.

Mama kissed my forehead, quick and hot. “Run like the wind, my girl.”

Papa gripped my shoulder, hard enough to bruise. “Survive.”

Mira pulled me toward the hidden back stair behind the pantry shelves.

I glanced back just once. Mama and Papa stood in my doorway, weapons raised, framed against the orange light climbing the walls from below.

I never saw them alive again.

We slipped out the rear into biting cold. Fresh snow muffled our steps.

Mira wove us through the pines until the sounds of fighting faded, distant snarls, shouts, the clash of steel, wet ripping

.

We crouched in a shallow hollow beneath low branches. She pressed me down, hand firm on my neck.

“Stay low. Don’t move. Breathe quiet.”she said

I pressed my cheek to the frozen ground and looked through the gaps.

The village square had turned into a nightmare.

Torches flared. Half-shifted wolves tore into our sentries, our neighbors, children I’d laughed with just yesterday.

And at the center stood Kael Draven.

He was tall, broad with a black cloak billowing like dark wings, his Ice-blue eyes reflecting the flames, cold, merciless.

He didn’t shout orders. He didn’t need to. The chaos seemed to flow toward him.

Then I saw them.

Mama and Papa fought back-to-back near the great hearth stone.

Papa swung the ironwood staff in wide arcs, cracking skulls, buying seconds. Mama danced with her dagger and teeth, silver flashing as she shifted just enough claws, fangs tearing into throats.

They were magnificent. Like angels glowing silver in a dull night but they were dying.

A huge gray wolf lunged at Papa. He drove the staff into its ribs, but another wolf human-formed, silver blade gleaming slipped behind him.

The knife sank into Papa’s side with a sound I would hear in nightmares for the rest of my life.

Papa roared, spun, brought the staff down across the attacker’s skull. But the wound was deep. Blood poured dark and fast.

In that frozen heartbeat, I saw it, not the blood, but Papa years ago, kneeling in summer grass, guiding my tiny hands to feel the first shift ripple through me. “Easy, little wolf,” he’d murmured, laughing soft. “The moon’s got you. Let it in.Don't fight it.” His voice had been warm then, safe.

Now that voice was a guttural cry.

Mama screamed his name.

She threw herself between them, claws raking, but three more closed in.

One drove a blade through her shoulder. Another slashed across her throat.

She dropped to her knees, hands clutching the wound, blood bubbling between her fingers.

Papa staggered to her, falling beside her, shielding her body with his own even as his strength failed.

Kael stepped forward.

He didn’t speak. He simply raised his hand.A silver-tipped spear flashed.

It punched through Papa’s chest, pinning him over Mama’s body.

They went still together.

A scream tore through me. I tried to run toward them, but Mira pulled me down, her hand over my mouth. I bit down so hard I tasted blood hers, mine, salt and iron mixing with tears I couldn’t stop.

The wind must have carried my broken sob.

One of the wolves black-furred, yellow-eyed snapped his head toward our hiding place.

“There,” he snarled. “There are more. The alpha says no one should escape.”

Mira’s hand clamped tighter.

“Run,” she breathed against my ear. “To the east ridge. Don’t stop. I’ll draw them.”

Before I could protest, she exploded out of the hollow, shifting mid-leap a sleek black wolf streaking the opposite direction, barking defiance.

Half the patrol wheeled after her.

The rest came for me.

I ran.

Snow dragged at my boots. Branches whipped my face, drawing blood. My lungs burned.

The silver pendant bounced against my chest like a second heartbeat, hot, insistent, like Mama’s hand still cupping my cheek, like Papa’s voice whispering “more than breath.”

Now both are gone. The moon the only witness left.

Behind me the panting, snarling was closing in.

I darted between pines, leaped a frozen stream, and slipped on the far bank.

Pain lanced up my leg where teeth had grazed my calf earlier. I hadn't even felt it until now.

They were gaining.

The ground sloped sharply. Rocks jutted through the snow ahead a drop, a ravine maybe.

I risked one glance back.

Three wolves, eyes glowing, tongues lolling were closing in on me.

I pushed harder.

My foot caught a root buried under the drift and I pitched forward.

The world tilted snow, pine needles, sky spinning.

Pain exploded in my shoulder, my hip, my skull and I tumbled.

As darkness swallowed me, the words clawed up inside, desperate and repeating:

I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, Papa. I tried. I tried so hard to be brave like you taught me. I love you. I love you. Please don’t leave me… don’t leave me…

Then nothing.