The world still spun with golden light when she broke our kiss, but the howls outside were too near. The fires on the hills threw writhing shadows across the windows and I could feel the baby reacting to the surge of power, moving restlessly in my arms.
“We have to go,” Maxwell said hoarsely. “They’re going to be coming to get you with the bond awakening.”
"The bond...” I touched my lips, tingling still from his kiss. New memories were rushing back — stolen moments in the treehouse, whispered promises beneath moonlight, the gut-wrenching agony when he’d vanished. "You knew all along. Even when I married David..."
"I wanted to stop you." His jaw clenched. “But if Id interfered, it would have all come out early. You didn’t know what your power even was back then. That shock could have killed you.”
"So you watched." The words came out bitter. “While he was abusing me, while he — ”
“While he attempted to subvert what was meant to be ours. (Maxwell’s eyes flashed dangerously.) “He knew how we were to one another. That's why he chose you. Broken mate bond's is powerful magic, especially between Guardians.”
Mom came to the doorway, her face taut with worry. “They’ve broken through the outer wards. James is keeping them back, but—”
A crash toward the front of the house interrupted her. And David’s voice, distorted with fury and power, poured through the walls: “Come out, little mate! 'Let’s see if your new protector can handle a pack alpha!’
The baby kicked hard enough that I gasped. Maxwell’s hand moved to my stomach, that warm golden light pouring from his palm.
“The child knows the real connection,” he said quietly. “It’s battling against David’s power.”
"How touching." With a snarl, partially in wolf form, Sophie stepped through the kitchen door. “But that abomination is our pack’s now. The ritual requires it."
Maxwell galloped faster than I was able to follow, moving into position between us. But before he could make such a move, power rushed through me — primal, instinctive. Sophie was blasted backward, crashing into the wall hard enough to crack plaster.
“The baby,” I spat, my eyes flicking to gold, “is mine and mine alone.”
“Lena,” Maxwell called aloud, sounding worried. “Get you to the sanctuary we need.” The full moon rises and as the bond awakens—“
The pain coursing through my body was different this time. It felt as if every nerve were on fire. "What's happening to me?"
"Your first change." He caught me just as my legs buckled. “The pregnancy is speeding everything up. We need to—"
The wall of the kitchen exploded toward inside. David silhouetted in the wreckage, halfway between man and wolf. At least twenty pack members snarled and paced behind him.
“You thought you could get away with this? Did you really think I wouldn’t have a backup plan?” he chortled, the tone inhuman. “The ritual doesn’t require you to be alive, Lena. Only your blood and the child.”
“Over my dead body,” Maxwell growled, his own shape beginning to change.
"That's the idea." David’s smile revealed too many teeth. “Kill the Guardian, claim his mate, finish the ritual. The old ways fall tonight."
My bones shifting beneath my skin like an earthquake, and the blood that pumped between my temples was electric with ancient power. But this time I didn’t argue. This time I let the beast out of its cage.
“You wanna see a monster, David? My voice came out a growl as golden light flared around me. “Let me show you what a Weber can do.”
The change I experienced, however, was not the vicious, savage metamorphosis of the wolves. This was something more primal, older. Light streamed from my skin as my body reformed, grotesque features of both wolf and some other thing taking shape and causing the members of the pack to back away in fear.
When it finished, I stood on four legs, my coat glittering with golden symbols hovering within it, just like what I’d projected before. I was bigger than any wolf, my eyes aglow with ancient power. Maxwell hadn’t been idle himself – he sat beside me, midnight black fur laced with silver runes, his shape now an exact match for mine.
I felt his fierce joy through our newly awakened bond. Together, he mind-melded with me. As it always should have been.
David's pack attacked.
And in that mad flurry of tooth and claw, with magic lighting the night, at last I comprehend what I really was — something other than Guardian, something other than Weber. Born of love and betrayal, of ancient power and modern strength.
The monster inside me was not a curse to be feared. It was a birthright to be welcomed.
And when Maxwell and I fought back to back, our powers mixing, the bond that kept us as mates, I knew nothing would ever be the same again.
The world was changing. And so was I.
---Part I – Beneath the Ember VaultDeep beneath the volcanic caves of Mount Thirell, past centuries of collapsed corridors and rusted glyph walls, a hidden chamber pulsed with forgotten heat. Red light licked the stone like a flame caught in slow time.A lone figure knelt before a relic bound in iron and bone: the Ember Vault. Its surface shimmered with wards half-melted, once meant to never be disturbed. But they were failing.The figure, cloaked in ash-crimson robes, removed her mask. Her name was Calren Voss, exiled archivist of Venara, now rogue prophet of the Red Circle.She spoke softly, as if to an old friend.> “You were locked away before song, before the Charter, before they knew memory could kill or save. They called you ‘Remnant.’ But you are the seed of all remembrance. The wound beneath every wound.”She placed her palm upon the Vault.It pulsed.And responded.---Part II – Marisol’s DoubtsBack in Venara, Governor Marisol’s hands trembled as she read the newest dispa
---Part I – Dissonance in the SilenceAsh fell like snow in the dusk between settlements. Rowan’s beacon still burned at Flamewatch, casting long shadows across the Shattered Fields. Beneath that fire, rumors spread like wind across dry grass.Some said the flame had summoned hope. Others said it had summoned something darker.At a remote outpost where three rivers met, Miri stood still as stone, holding her breath. She heard them before she saw them—strange hums moving against the grain of the wind, uncanny and soft. The sounds made the trees bend backward, as if recoiling.Then the Severed Choir appeared.They walked barefoot, twelve in number, each draped in soot-colored linen robes marked with broken staves—musical notations twisted like shattered glass. They carried no weapons, only their voice. Their eyes were not blindfolded, but whitewashed: vision erased by design.Tulen moved beside her, whispering, “They unmake what’s remembered. Their song frays memory thread by thread. Y
---Part I – The First FlameBy dusk, Rowan crossed the Blistered Bridge and entered the Wilder Vale—ancient marshlands once burned in the first War of Memory. His cloak was charred at the hem, his face streaked with soot, his left wrist raw where the restraints had fused to skin.But his eyes held clarity. No longer afraid. No longer hesitant.He had escaped not just the Covenant—but the version of himself that believed he was only a vessel for memory.He now shaped it.A lone traveler met him at the crossing. She wore no Custodian badge, no Council crest—just a satchel with pages fluttering like wings.Riden.Rowan stopped, shocked. “How did you—?”“I followed your lullaby,” she said, voice tight with emotion. “And I brought Mother’s rhythm.” She handed him a carved reed whistle. “Serena left this. It harmonizes with the final sequence. It’s a key.”Rowan took it, and for the first time in days, smiled.Behind him, far off, the skies reddened. Somewhere deep within the Covenant’s ha
---Part I – The LeakA week after the Charter's ratification, Venara awoke not to bells but to silence.Silence heavier than mourning, stranger than peace.In the heart of the city, paper fluttered across cobblestones. Crimson seals adorned them—unmistakable: The Red Draft. Dozens of copies appeared overnight, nailed to doors, left on library shelves, and tucked into fruit crates.At first glance, they resembled official proclamations. But inside, they were weaponized narratives.> “The Charter is not a path to healing, but a tool of manipulation. The Custodians are not listeners—but curators of guilt. The lullabies? Constructed myths, seeded to control ancestral shame.And Rowan Bren—the illegitimate son of an erased line—now sits at the heart of this deception.”Governor Marisol read the first leaflet with shaking hands. “They’re not just fighting the Charter,” she murmured. “They’re rewriting us.”Tarek slammed a folder onto the table. “It’s coordinated. They had access to interna
---Part I – Rowan Before the CouncilThe chamber in Venara had never been so still.Every Councilor sat silently as Rowan stood alone at the center, palms trembling over the rostrum. On a stand beside him, Miri’s parchment bore the full transcription of the lullaby, now known across three villages.But Rowan didn’t begin with words.He began with humming—low and uncertain, the same melody his mother once sang on nights filled with smoke.It rippled out like a pebble cast in water. Avena closed her eyes. Brynn exhaled. Tarek leaned forward.Governor Marisol waited until the song finished before she spoke.“You are Rowan Bren, memory-bearer. Survivor of Ashwood. Witness to Hearthvale. And now—key to the Charter’s living test.”Rowan met her gaze. “I came to speak the truth, not for ceremony. Someone is rewriting our history. My name—my family’s name—has been used in falsehoods by the Covenant. The lullaby is not just a song. It’s resistance.”Councilor Harven scoffed. “We can’t build a
---Part I – Embers of TrustThe Hearthvale Inn burned through lamplight and hushed conversations. Tulen paced slowly before the cold hearth, reading the sigil etched into stone over and over.Miri studied its geometry. “Same curvature. The Covenant again.”Brynn, who’d arrived only hours earlier by fast courier at Marisol’s request, pointed out the center lines. “This isn’t just a mark—it’s a seal. A claim. They’re saying: This story is theirs to close.”Rowan looked from one to another, pulse thick with dread. “So they’re not trying to stop memory work anymore. They’re trying to own it.”Tulen’s voice was grim. “No. They’re trying to erase and replace it. Narrative cleansing.”Outside, a funeral bell rang once, hollow. The second memory witness—a village elder named Halyn—had vanished during the night.Only a circle of salt remained in her bed.---Part II – The Hollow BookIn the Council's central archive, Avena spent the night with the sealed journal Brynn had recovered from Vault