LOGIN5 Years AgoClay came to me at dawn.Not with the thunder of an Alpha or the certainty of a warrior, but quietly, like a man who knew he stood on fragile ground. I had not slept. Silvercrest was still wrapped in that uneasy half-light where the moon lingers too long, and the sun hesitates to show up.I was on the eastern balcony, watching the forest breathe. The Dark Forest looked calm from here, almost innocent, but I knew better now. I had seen what moved within it. I had felt the pull of old magic brushing against my skin, testing me.I heard Clay before I saw him. His steps were measured, slower than usual. When he stopped behind me, he did not speak at once.&ldquo
Five Years Ago.You don’t understand what it’s like,” she said, her voice sharper now. “To lose everything.To survive by knowing when to bend and when to take.”“I understand betrayal,” I replied. “And I understand fear dressed up as friendship.”Her gaze hardened. “If you truly understood, you’d step aside.”The words struck deeper than I expected.I took another step toward her. “Tell me everything,” I said. “Every word you said to Clay.Every promi
5 Years AgoElder Torin came to me at dusk, when the royal chambers had settled into their uneasy quiet. I remember thinking, as I watched him cross the threshold of my sitting chamber, that men like Torin never came without intent. He did not waste steps or words.I rose out of courtesy, though my instincts told me to remain still. His eyes gazed over me, assessing, measuring, as if I were no longer the girl he had known since childhood but a piece on a board he had been studying for years.“Zanny,” he said, inclining his head. “You look well.”It was a lie, and we both knew it.“You didn’t come to comment on my health,”
Five Years Ago.I had left the council meeting with the hope of meeting up with Clay. I find myself drawn towards him after that exchange with the elders. He was in a hurry, and I thought to myself. “Such a warrior! He wants the beast dead.”It was nighttime in Silvercrest when Clay slipped through the poorly lit streets, careful to avoid the torchlit paths. The stone walls knew his footsteps too well; every guard knew his face. This meeting could not be witnessed, not now, not when the council had already questioned his restraint, his judgment, his right to rule.I watched as he entered Selene’s chambers.Selene’s chambers were dimly lit, a single lamp glowing like a watchful eye. She stood near the window when he ent
Five Years AgoThe council chamber had not felt this tense in years.Clay stood at the centre of the circle, shoulders squared, jaw set. Clay, as usual, looked cold, as if the events of Silver Crest did not affect him. Around him sat the council elders, men and women whose fur had long since silvered, whose voices carried the weight of tradition and law. Warriors lined the edges of the chamber, silent but alert, hands never straying far from their weapons.Elder Karl struck his staff against the stone floor once.“The beast attacked within our walls,” he said. “Inside the royal chambers. That alone is an insult we cannot ignore.”Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.“It fled into the forest,” he added. “If we do nothing, it will return. Or worse, others like it will follow.”Clay took a step forward. “Sending warriors blindly into the forest is not wisdom. It’s pride.”Several elders turned sharply toward him.“The forest you speak of is not empty land,” Clay continued, his
Five Years AgoI stood up from her bed and ran towards Selene’s room, but she was not there.“I need to speak to someone,” I murmured to myself. “I think I am running crazy or something.”I left Selene’s room in search of Clay. At least he would listen to me after ouir last encounter with the beast.I found Clay where I half expected him to be, at the eastern wing, where Silvercrest dropped away into forest and fog. Clay stood with his back to me, hands resting on the stone rail, shoulders tense in a way that told me he had not slept.I stopped a few steps behind him.“Clay.”He turned immediately, as if he had felt my presence long before I spoke. His gaze swept over me, searching, assessing, relief flickering through before he masked it.“You should still be resting,” he said.“I can’t,” I replied. “Not after what I saw. And now, what I heard.”Something in my tone made him straighten. “Come here.”I stepped beside him, the wind tugging gently at my hair. For a moment, we stood in







