CHAPTER 6: THE HOWL OF THE NORTH

POV EMMA BELLE

The air in the healing sanctum felt static, charged with the lingering residue of the white light and the dark rot that had nearly consumed me. My heart was still thundering, but its rhythm had changed. It felt heavier, tethered by a golden, invisible cord to the man whose head was still resting against my neck.

Damon didn't move for a long time. I could feel his jagged breaths smoothing out, his massive body finally relaxing against mine. The dominance he usually radiated had shifted into something else—a raw, quiet possessiveness that made my skin tingle.

"Damon," I whispered, my voice still scratchy from the scream I hadn't been able to let out.

He lifted his head slowly. His golden eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide. He didn't look like a king in that moment; he looked like a man who had stared into the abyss and barely made it back. He didn't say a word, but he reached up and traced the line of my jaw with a trembling thumb.

"You're alive," he rasped. It wasn't a question. It was an order, as if he were still commanding my heart to beat.

"Thanks to you," I replied.

"To all of us," Nathaniel interjected, his voice tight. I looked past Damon’s shoulder to see Nathaniel leaning against a stone pillar, his face ashen. He was wiping a fresh smear of silver blood from his upper lip. "But the bond you just forged with him... it’s deep, Emma. You didn't just share energy. You shared a soul-print."

Félix—my Lixie—approached the side of the slab. He looked exhausted, his blonde hair damp with sweat, but his green eyes were burning with a mixture of relief and something that looked like sharp, stinging jealousy. He reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it so hard his knuckles turned white.

"Don't do that to me again, Little Bird," Félix said, his voice cracking. "I don't care if a god comes down from the sky—you don't get to die on me."

I squeezed his hand back, trying to offer him the comfort he had given me in the woods. "I'm not going anywhere, Lixie."

The moment of quiet was shattered by that sound again. The horn. A low, mournful blast that echoed through the stone marrow of the mountain, followed by a chorus of howls that didn't sound like the wolves I knew. These were deeper, more primal, like the sound of ice shifting in a glacier.

"The Northern Tribes," Vincent said, his daggers disappearing into his sleeves as he moved toward the narrow slit of a window. "They aren't just passing through. They’ve breached the valley."

Damon stood up, the Alpha mask clicking back into place instantly. He looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my lips for a fraction of a second before he turned to the others. "How many?"

"Hundreds," Vincent replied. "And they aren't alone. They’re bringing the Winter Stalkers—beasts that haven't been seen since the first war."

"They felt her," Nathaniel said, his silver eyes narrowing. "They think the White Queen is a myth they can consume to survive the Eternal Winter. They don't want a queen; they want a sacrifice."

Fear tried to claw its way back into my chest, but the new power humming in my blood pushed it down. I stood up from the stone slab, my legs surprisingly steady. The black veins were gone, replaced by a faint, pearlescent glow that seemed to sit just beneath my skin.

"They won't get one," I said, my voice sounding stronger than I felt.

Damon turned to me, his brow furrowed. "Emma, you just survived a necrotic strike. You’re in no condition to—"

"I’m in no condition to hide," I interrupted, stepping toward him. I felt the tether between us pull, a warm tug in my chest. "You said it yourself, Damon. I have teeth now. If I stay in this room while you fight my battles, I’m just an Omega again. And that girl died in the forest."

A slow, prideful grin spread across Damon’s face. He looked at the others. "You heard her. Nathaniel, get to the armory. Félix, I want you on the battlements—use that speed of yours to scout their lead pack. Vincent, shadows. I want them tripping over their own feet before they even reach the gates."

"And Emma?" Félix asked, his hand lingering on my waist as he prepared to leave.

"Emma stays with me," Damon growled, his hand landing on the small of my back. "We’re going to show the North why they should have stayed in the ice."

We moved through the fortress like a storm. The Black Crag was no longer a sanctuary; it was a war machine waking up. I could feel the mountain itself responding to my presence, the ancient stones humming as I passed.

Félix led the way up to the highest ramparts. The wind was screaming now, carrying snow that stung like needles. Below us, the valley was a sea of grey and white. The Northern Tribes were massive wolves, their fur matted with ice, their eyes a frozen, mindless blue. Among them were the Stalkers—hulking, six-legged monstrosities of fur and claw that looked like they belonged in a nightmare.

"Look at the size of them," Félix muttered, his usual playful tone replaced by a grim focus. He pulled a recurve bow from his back, his fingers dancing over the string. "They aren't just hungry, Emma. They’re driven. Something pushed them out of the peaks."

"The Council," I guessed, looking at the horizon.

"Likely," Nathaniel said, joining us. He was carrying a staff of dark wood topped with a glowing silver crystal. "If the Council couldn't kill you, they’ll let the North do the dirty work for them. It’s efficient."

Suddenly, a massive Stalker lunged at the base of our wall, its claws digging into the stone. It let out a roar that shook the battlements.

"Félix, take the left flank!" Damon roared.

Lixie moved. He was a blur of blonde and silver, leaping onto the edge of the parapet. He didn't just fire arrows; he seemed to move with the wind itself. Every shot found a throat, every movement was a masterpiece of agility. He looked back at me for a split second, a wild, reckless grin on his face.

"Watch this, Little Bird!" he shouted, before diving off the wall and shifting mid-air into a sleek, golden wolf.

My heart leaped into my throat as he landed among the enemy, a whirlwind of teeth and fur. He was outnumbered twenty to one, but he moved so fast they couldn't touch him.

"He’s showing off," Damon muttered, though he sounded impressed.

"He’s protecting her," Nathaniel corrected.

The battle erupted in earnest. Damon leaped down next, his axe carving through the Stalkers like a hot knife through butter. Vincent was a ghost in the snow, his blades flashing in the dark.

I stood on the wall, my hands gripping the cold stone. I could feel all of them. I could feel Félix’s adrenaline, Damon’s rage, Nathaniel’s focus, and Vincent’s cold precision. It was a symphony of violence, and I was the conductor.

I closed my eyes and reached out. I didn't think about the light this time; I thought about the mountain. I thought about the ice.

I am the Queen, I whispered to the wind.

The ground began to shake. A massive fissure opened in the valley floor, swallowing a dozen Stalkers whole. I felt the power surge through me, an endless well of energy. But as I pushed, I felt a sharp, cold presence in my mind.

Emma Belle...

I gasped, my eyes snapping open. In the middle of the battlefield, standing perfectly still among the chaos, was a woman. She was dressed in white furs, her hair like spun silver, her eyes the same frozen blue as the tribes.

She wasn't a wolf. She was something else.

"The Ice Seer," Nathaniel whispered, his voice full of dread.

The woman raised a hand and pointed directly at me. The air around me began to freeze. I couldn't move. My lungs felt like they were turning to ice.

"Damon!" I tried to scream, but no sound came out.

The Ice Seer began to walk toward the gates, the ground freezing beneath her feet. Every wolf that touched the ice turned to a statue instantly.

Félix saw the danger first. He shifted back to his human form, his body covered in blood and snow, and began to run toward me. "Emma! Get back!"

But he was too far. The Seer was looking into my soul, and I realized with a jolt of horror that she wasn't here to kill me.

She was here to take the light back.

"The crown belongs to the frost," she whispered, her voice appearing directly in my head.

Before she could reach the gate, a shadow erupted from the ground in front of her. Vincent. He swung his daggers, but she simply caught them in her bare, frozen hands. She blew a breath of frost onto his chest, and he was thrown back, his body hitting the stone doors with a sickening thud.

"Vincent!" I cried, the ice around my heart cracking with a sudden burst of violet light.

The anger returned. The same fire Damon had fanned in the clearing. I didn't wait for them to save me this time. I climbed onto the edge of the battlements and jumped.

I didn't fall. I flew.

I landed in the snow between the Seer and my kings, the ground shattering beneath my feet. I looked at her, my eyes glowing with a brilliance that outshone the moon.

"You want my crown?" I asked, my voice echoing through the valley. "Then come and take it."