Chapter Six – Fires on the Border

The air smelled of ash and iron. Even from my window I could see the lanterns moving along the ridge like a line of pale stars. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching the pack ready itself. The house hummed with nervous energy, men sharpening blades, young wolves rehearsing battle calls. Outside, the forest seemed to hold its breath.

They told me to stay. Dorian’s command echoed in my head. Stay here. Do not leave this room. But the bond between us pulled like a tide, a constant ache that made my limbs heavy and my thoughts fray. I was meant to be with him in fight and hearth. He had ordered me safe, but the part of me that wanted to belong pressed against the bars of obedience.

I dressed in the plain clothes the Luna had given me. Practical. No metal that would catch the light. My hands shook while I braided my hair tight. My wolf moved beneath my skin, restless. I breathed, counting until my pulse slowed. I told myself I would be a ghost, unseen and unheard. I would obey.

Then Dorian left.

I watched his silhouette through the open doorway. He paused and glanced up. For a second, the world narrowed to the space between us. His eyes met mine. No words passed. That look said everything. Go back inside. Be safe.

I obeyed and disobeyed all at once.

The alarms came before dawn, a sequence of low howls and drumbeats that stung the ears and gut. I stumbled to the door and flung it open. Downstairs, warriors were already out, armor clanking, faces hard. Dorian stood in the yard, a storm barely contained. Around him, the pack formed, rows of brothers and sisters who had fought at his side. His presence made them focus, made fear narrow into purpose.

The moon had dipped; a line of movement crawled over the northern ridge. Shadows, then figures. Rogues. Too many to be casual border runners. They moved with the smell of hunger.

Dorian called out, and the pack answered. He glanced toward me. For a beat, I saw something raw in his face. His jaw tightened and his eyes were fast as blades. He made a single gesture, a command: go inside, stay. But then he moved, and the pack followed.

I should have gone back. I didn’t. I stepped down from the stairs and joined the throng outside. By the time Dorian turned his head again, I was at his outer line, watching the enemy come like a dark wave.

The first clash was chaos. Rogues were faster and more brutal than expected. They knew where to stab, how to slice. A young warrior fell in the first minute; the air smelled of blood and wet earth. I felt sick.

Dorian moved like a man made of force and restraint. Every strike precise. He caught a rogue’s flank, twisted, and shoved him into the dirt. Then a second rogue came for him and Dorian shifted mid-fight, the rip of fur and flash of teeth showing how close he was to breaking the surface of human and animal. The crowd moved with his energy.

Something in the near world brushed against me and the power inside answered. Roots lifted, soft at first, tripping a rogue. The pack dispatched him hard. I had not thought. The earth alone had moved.

On the ridge, a shape broke from the line. Not a rogue. A wolf of bigger size. A leader among them. He wore a crown of scars and arrogance like a dagger. He laughed, a sound like frost cracking.

Dorian’s eyes locked on him. They moved toward each other. I saw Dorian take a blow that sent his feet skidding. Fear flared like cold fire in my belly. My wolf rose.

I stepped forward without thinking. The ground under me uncoiled, tangling around the leader’s legs. He roared, hands clawing at the earth. Wolves lowered their weapons, uncertainty flaring.

The leader freed himself with a slash and lunged. He hit Dorian hard. Dorian caught balance then threw himself like a spear. They collided with force.

A shriek tore through the field. Near the edge, men had surrounded a young woman. She looked small and terrified. My feet moved toward her. Dorian’s voice cut the air. “Selene, do not.”

The name struck me. I wanted to be invisible, safe, belong. My hands went out. The earth answered, pillars rising like barricades. Rogues snarled and hacked at them. Dorian saw and his eyes found mine; something softened in them.

We fought like the world might end. I sank into a rhythm. The power inside me moved with my fear. When a rogue leapt for me, I turned and the wind curled around him. A warrior laughed, wild, and I felt it in my chest.

The rogues regrouped, tighter. Matin, a boy I had known, took a slash across his throat but kept fighting. My stomach twisted.

Then the scarred leader slammed into Dorian again. Dorian fell on his knees, blood blooming. Panic flared. For a heartbeat, I saw him fold.

I could not let him die. The power surged, and the ground rose, swallowing the leader to his waist. Dorian scrambled and slammed into him. For a second they were a single brutal thing.

The leader’s eyes found me. Hate burned. He shouted a curse. The ground under me trembled.

Then the leader threw a spear of black fire into the sky. The light went wrong. Wolves fell back. The air tasted like metal.

Dorian barked orders. I felt the bond pull like a rope through my skin. I stepped forward. The earth rose, a wall that caught the black flame and turned it into sparks. They rained harmlessly.

When the last spark hit the ground, the leader was gone. The rogues scattered. The battle slowed, then ended.

Silence fell. Dorian leaned on his knees, chest rising and falling like an animal that had run and bled. He looked up at me. No words. Only the way his eyes looked at me, like a man saved by something he could not own.

A warrior limped over and grabbed Dorian. Relief poured out loud and shaky. But something had shifted.

Dorian straightened, walked toward me. Heat of him close. The bond pulsed, stronger and aching. He placed his hand on my shoulder. Not like a lover, but like a man gripping the one steady thing in storm.

“You are dangerous,” he said low. Not accusation. Not praise. Fact. Softer, to himself: “You are necessary.”

Before I could answer, a scout shouted from the ridge. “Alpha, something moves out in the trees. Not rogues. Something else.”

Dorian looked up, instincts snapping. The wolf in me rose and I answered, differently. This was older, hungrier than rogues.

He turned to me. “Stay close,” he said. Command.

I nodded, hands shaking. The earth thrummed like a heart. Whatever waited was coming.

To be continued…