The Traitor's Reckoning

The snow fell like ash, soft and constant, blanketing the Blackthorn Estate in silence. But beneath the quiet, something felt wrong. The kind of wrong you didn’t hear—you felt it in your spine, in the hush of too many people not saying what they were thinking.

Ezra stood by the window of the war room, arms folded tight across his chest. The mark on his arm hadn’t stopped pulsing since the visions on the cliff. It was like it had its own heartbeat now—hot, alive, waiting. And everyone could feel it. Even if they didn’t look at him directly, even if no one dared say it out loud, the weight in the air said it for them:

Something’s coming. And he’s the reason why.

Kael was next to him, not speaking, just there. He’d barely left Ezra’s side since that night. Not when the elders had pulled him into private talks. Not when Alric said—right in front of Ezra—“Pick your duty or your heart, Kael, before we all pay for it.”

Kael hadn’t answered. He’d just looked at Ezra. And stayed.

The war room was half-lit, the fire throwing flickering shadows over stone and faces. It wasn’t an official meeting, not really. More like a gathering of every wolf who had something to lose—and a few who thought Ezra might be the one to lose it for them.

He kept to the edge, trying to look calm. Arms crossed. Shoulders square. Like the thundering in his chest wasn’t loud enough to drown out every voice in the room.

All except Kael’s.

“She’s never late,” Kael said, quiet but sharp.

Ezra followed his gaze to the door. Elen’s chair was still empty.

His mark burned hotter.

Then, the doors slammed open, and a gust of wind brought snow swirling into the room. Elen stepped inside.

And she looked… wrong.

Her braid was half-undone. Her sleeve torn. A smear of blood darkened the fabric near her elbow. Her eyes were wide, but not with fear—more like guilt she couldn’t swallow.

“Sorry,” she said, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Ran into trouble on patrol.”

Alric stood up slowly. “What kind of trouble?”

Elen licked her lips. “Raen’s scouts. They didn’t come close, but… they knew things. About the border rotations. About Ezra. Stuff no one outside the inner circle should know.”

The room went tense.

Ezra’s stomach turned. “What are you saying?”

Elen met his eyes—for a second. And what he saw in her face made his mark flare.

Guilt.

“I think there’s a traitor,” she said. “Inside Blackthorn.”

Kael’s voice was low, dangerous. “Who?”

She hesitated.

Too long.

Then—

BOOM.

A blast rocked the estate. The front gates. Screams echoed from outside.

They were under attack.

---

Ezra ran.

He was halfway to the courtyard when his mark exploded—a searing rush of heat that nearly dropped him to his knees. His vision blurred, and a scream ripped through his head.

One word. Clear. Terrible.

Elen.

He stopped cold. Spun around.

“She lied,” he breathed.

Kael didn’t ask how he knew. He was already moving, blade in hand, eyes dark with fury.

---

The courtyard was chaos.

Wolves clashed in the snow, teeth flashing, blades drawn. Raen’s pack had torn through the front gate like it was paper. Blood smeared the stone. Growls filled the air.

And there—Elen, standing beside Raen.

Not bound. Not dragged.

Standing with him.

Ezra’s breath caught in his throat. “No…”

Raen saw him and smiled like this was the punchline to a joke only he understood.

“She came willingly,” he said, voice smooth. “Funny what you learn when someone’s always standing just outside the circle.”

Kael’s fury rolled off him like heat. “She trained beside us. She bled for us.”

“She was never one of you,” Raen said, wrapping an arm around Elen’s shoulder. She didn’t pull away.

“She’s the one who showed me the prophecy,” Raen added. “The missing verse.”

Ezra’s hands curled into fists. “You used her.”

Raen shook his head. “She believed in you, Ezra. In what you are.”

Ezra’s mark flared hot enough to sting. “Then why come at us like this?”

Raen’s smile faded. “Because they’d never let you be what you’re meant to be.”

Elen lifted her hands.

And the sky split.

---

A blast of light burst from her fingers—gold and black magic, thick with something old. Ancient. Ezra staggered. His mark surged in response, glowing so bright it cast shadows across the courtyard.

Wolves dropped to their knees. Kael clutched his chest, teeth gritted against the pressure.

Visions slammed into Ezra’s head—images not his, yet familiar. A pack burning. Wolves hunted. Betrayed. And one face stood clear among the smoke:

Elen.

Not just now. Then.

She had been there.

A survivor.

Ezra stumbled back. “What did you do?”

Tears streaked Elen’s face, but her voice was steady. “I remembered. I remembered who we were.”

“We?” Ezra rasped.

She nodded. “You were the last of the bloodline. I was the first.”

Then Kael lunged, blade out—but Raen caught him with a burst of magic, slamming him into stone. Ezra ran to him, heart in his throat.

“Kael—!”

Kael winced, blood on his lip, but managed a nod. “Still here.”

Ezra turned back to Raen, and the power rose.

His wolf—awake, fully this time—rushed forward, not in rage, but in clarity. The cold vanished. The snow melted in a circle around him. His mark pulsed like a second heart.

“You said I’m the key?” Ezra’s voice rang across the courtyard. “Then let’s see what I open.”

A shockwave burst from his skin—light and heat and fire. Raen and Elen staggered back, shielding their faces.

Kael looked up, eyes wide. “Ezra…”

Ezra stood tall, power humming in his veins. “I choose my pack. I choose me.”

---

And then, like mist before dawn, Raen and Elen vanished into the trees.

---

By morning, the snow had stopped. But the silence it left behind was worse.

Wolves limped through the courtyard, helping the wounded. No one talked much. Not about Elen. Not about Raen. Not about what they saw Ezra do.

Ezra sat on the stone steps, arms around his knees, his mark still warm beneath his skin. Not burning, but buzzing. Alive.

Kael joined him, shoulder bruised, his shirt torn. He didn’t say anything. Just sat close.

Ezra finally spoke. “She was one of us.”

Kael didn’t argue. “She made her choice.”

Ezra nodded, slow. “So did I.”

Kael reached over, their hands brushing. Ezra didn’t pull away.

The quiet stretched, peaceful in its own way. But Ezra’s mark pulsed again. And somewhere deep in his bones, he knew—

This wasn’t the end. It was the beginning.

---

Elen’s betrayal has cracked open a legacy Ezra never knew he carried. The bloodline isn’t lost—it’s awakening. And with the next full moon rising, the vow carved into his mark will demand more than loyalty… it may demand sacrifice.