Chapter 2

Shadows of the Living Forest

•••

Aella’s hand trembled in his. The warmth radiating from the Alpha King… Thalen Varynthorn,was more than physical; it was commanding, magnetic, almost suffocating in the oppressive night of the living forest. She had expected fear, confrontation, maybe even death. Instead, she felt an unspoken question in the heat of his gaze: trust me.

And despite every warning she had learned in her life, every instinct that had kept her alive among wolves and humans alike, she felt herself answering yes.

The forest shifted beneath their feet, roots parting and curling gently to create a path as they moved. Moonfire glowed along the trail, pale silver illuminating the rough terrain of Nightbrae Hill. It was warm, as if the forest itself exhaled in relief at their unity. But the relief was fleeting. Every so often, shadows stretched unnaturally between the trees, bending in impossible directions, whispering warnings she could not understand.

Aella glanced at him. He walked silently, fluidly, with the kind of control that marked a true Alpha. The glow from his golden eyes painted her face in ethereal light, and she caught herself staring, her heartbeat quickening. She had never seen anyone… wolf or human carry such raw authority with an air of calm. It was terrifying. And, she realized, irresistibly magnetic.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her voice breaking the tense silence.

“To the Hollow Glen,” he replied. His voice was low, deliberate, carrying the weight of command. “There are disturbances in the forest tonight. I need to ensure the balance hasn’t been disrupted.”

She swallowed. She had heard whispers of Hollow Glen an area deep within Nightbrae where the roots were oldest, the trees tallest, and the magic thickest. Only Alpha Kings and select warriors dared enter, and always with caution. She, a mere herbalist, human born and raised among wolves who had never truly claimed her, was being brought there voluntarily or unwillingly by one of the Dominion’s most powerful beings.

The forest seemed to acknowledge her unease, responding with a subtle, almost playful twist of branches that brushed against her shoulders as they walked. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, and she realized with a sudden pang that she was not entirely certain whether it was fear, excitement, or something she refused to name.

A low growl echoed through the trees, and she froze. Thalen’s gaze snapped toward the sound, golden eyes narrowing, muscles tensing.

“Ferals,” he said, more a statement than a warning.

Aella’s heart jumped. Ferals, the corrupted werewolves were rare, dangerous, and unpredictable. That they had appeared so close to the village was a warning. A sign that something in Nightbrae was stirring, something dark and unrestrained.

She instinctively pressed closer to Thalen. He didn’t stop walking, but his hand brushed lightly against hers not quite holding it, but not letting go either. His presence alone was grounding, a strange tether in the unpredictable pulse of the living forest.

The path widened into a clearing, and the first signs of corruption were immediately visible. Moonfire stones along the ground flickered, dimming unnaturally. Small plants shriveled where they should have thrived, and the scent of rot mingled with the usual crisp smell of moss and pine.

“The Ferals aren’t random,” Thalen said quietly. “They are drawn to imbalance. To fear. To what the forest finds… impure.”

Aella’s stomach knotted. She had grown up believing the forest protected her, nurtured her, responded to her moods, her heart, her touch. But now, seeing it respond with decay, with corruption, she understood the fragility of that bond. Something or someone was disrupting the balance. And it was not entirely clear if they were friend or foe.

“Why am I here?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t belong in the Hollow Glen. Not really. I’m just…” Her words faltered.

“Just what?” Thalen prompted. He didn’t turn his head, but she felt the intensity of his gaze, warm and heavy, assessing, measuring, judging.

Aella swallowed, unsure herself. “I’m… nothing,” she admitted. “I’m just someone who gathers herbs, who tends to the village, who…” She trailed off.

“Who is the only one the forest calls by name?” he finished for her, his voice softer, almost intimate. The words made her pulse quicken.

She glanced at him. His expression had changed… still commanding, still terrifying, but not without… something else. Care? Curiosity? She couldn’t tell. But the golden glow of his eyes made her feel exposed, naked even in the heavy folds of her shawl.

Before she could respond, a sharp cry pierced the night. A child’s scream, echoing across the clearing.

Aella’s eyes widened. “A—A child!”

Thalen was already moving. In a blur, he shifted again into his wolf form, and before her astonished eyes, he sprinted toward the sound. Aella tried to follow, but the forest floor seemed uneven, roots twisting and curling in her path, slowing her down.

“Stay close,” his voice commanded, though it seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

She stumbled, nearly tripping over a root, and the forest seemed to respond, lifting a branch gently to guide her forward. Her breath came in shallow gasps. She had never been this deep into the Hollow Glen, and every step felt dangerous, as though the forest itself tested her resolve.

Ahead, the scene unfolded… a young Feral had cornered a child near the base of a massive oak. Its red eyes gleamed, teeth bared, and the air around it shimmered with malevolent magic.

Thalen leapt into the clearing, silver streaks flashing in his black fur, claws raking through the Feral’s flank. Aella froze, watching, her chest tight with awe and fear. In seconds, he had incapacitated the creature, jaws clamping onto its neck, shaking it with controlled precision until it lay motionless. The forest seemed to exhale in relief, leaves rustling and roots retracting.

Thalen shifted back into human form, chest heaving, golden eyes scanning the area. The child, pale and trembling, clutched at their guardian’s leg. Thalen’s gaze softened, just for a moment, before returning to its usual intensity.

“You should not have been wandering here alone,” he said, voice low, carrying the authority that made even the corrupted air of Hollow Glen seem subdued.

And then the child went running away after being saved. Went back to where he might came, as the child were running away they saw an adult waving at the child… it might be the child’s mother who Aella can tell that she was worried.

The two started to walk together through the Hollow Glen again. Every so often, Aella’s fingers brushed his, and she felt a strange thrill, a magnetic pull she could neither name nor resist. The air was heavy with magic, dense enough that she could taste it, tangy and sweet and ancient.

“So… these Ferals,” she asked cautiously, “they’re not just wolves?”

“No,” Thalen said quietly. “They are corrupted, twisted by the hunger of Nightbrae’s roots. They feed on fear, on imbalance, on the fragility of what is weak. They are warnings, but also tests. And tonight, they are unusually aggressive.”

Aella’s stomach knotted. “What could make them… so violent?”

Thalen’s gaze darkened, a shadow passing over his golden eyes. “Something stirs. Something older than even the oldest trees. Something that wants to reclaim the forest… and will not stop until it gets it.”

A shiver ran down her spine. The stories she had grown up with suddenly seemed terrifyingly real. The Nightbrae forest was alive. It was protective, yes, but also vengeful, jealous, and deadly. And now, it had marked her as part of its will.

“But still… Why me?” she whispered.

“Because,” he said, voice softer now, almost intimate, “the forest knows what I cannot. It has always known you. And because… I cannot.”

Aella’s heart thudded. The forest seemed to lean closer, listening, watching, waiting. She had never felt so exposed or so alive.

They came to a clearing where the moonfire shimmered brightly, illuminating an ancient oak, massive beyond imagination. Its roots twisted like serpents, some buried deep, others rising to brush the sky. This was the heart of Hollow Glen.

Thalen knelt beside the tree, running a hand along its trunk. “The forest feeds through this tree,” he murmured. “All life here originates from it. If it dies… the balance fails.”

Aella crouched beside him. Her hand hovered above the bark, feeling the vibration of life beneath her fingertips. A pulse, strong and steady, but beneath it something irregular, jagged, like a warning.

“Something is wrong,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Thalen said grimly. “And it will not stop until it is resolved. That is why I brought you here. You have the touch the forest listens to. You can calm it… or awaken it.”

Her breath caught. She had spent her life tending to herbs, helping villagers, pretending to be ordinary. And now she understood the weight of her difference. The forest had chosen her. And whatever path lay ahead, it would change her life forever.

The night stretched on, the moon rising high above them. Shadows twisted, leaves rustled, and the air vibrated with quiet, living magic. Aella realized that nothing… no safety, no village, no childhood would ever protect her from what was coming.

And in the distance, among the twisting roots and glowing stones of Hollow Glen, a shadow moved. Something ancient. Something hungry. Something that had waited centuries for the touch of a human, and the command of an Alpha King.

The forest whispered again.

And this time, Aella knew she had no choice but to listen.

•••

TBC.