Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 41 - Chapitre 50

VIVIANNE ST. CLAIR’S POVThe room was quiet. Still. The kind of quiet that feels heavy, like it’s holding its breath. The fire in the corner had burned low, more shadows than light now, and the wind outside was brushing against the windows like it was looking for a way in.I sat on the edge of the bed, one hand curled around a mug of tea that had gone cold an hour ago. The other rested on the empty space beside me.His side.I hadn’t touched it in years.Lucas. God, his name still did something to me. Still made my chest tighten like it did the first time I realized I loved him — really loved him. Not the easy kind. The kind that changes how you breathe.We met too young. Or maybe just early enough. He was wild, cocky, always smelled like smoke and something sharp, like the woods before a storm. I thought I hated him at first. He always had something to say, always knew what I was thinking before I did.But he saw me.Not just the pretty parts. Not the version of me I built for ever

JULIAN’S POVThe room smelled like sage, iron, and old smoke—Vivianne’s idea of comfort. She always said it cleared the air. I figured it just masked the scent of rot that clung to this place like a second skin.Aiden stood near the window, staring out at the woods. He hadn’t said a word since we came in, but that was typical. He only spoke when he wanted to be heard. Otherwise, silence did the trick. Vivianne was seated across from me, her long fingers tracing the rim of her tea cup. The fire in the hearth cracked behind her, casting flickering shadows across her face. For a moment, she looked soft. Almost human.But I knew better.“So,” she said finally, voice low and even, “we’ve confirmed the soil?”I nodded once. “Magnetite. Straight from the northern ridge of Raven’s Peak. The scouts made sure of it. They’ll be scrambling now, trying to plug the leak.”“Good,” she said, smiling faintly. “Let them chase ghosts while we sharpen our blades.”Aiden turned then, arms crossed. “Still

ENID’S POVThe woods were quiet in that way that only happened before something terrible. No birdsong, no rustle. Just stillness. I stood near the fire pit, arms crossed, watching the last embers from the scouting report burn down. The map was already burned into my mind anyway.Lark stepped up behind me. He didn’t announce herself—he never did—but I didn’t flinch. I knew that footfall.“It’s a bad night for secrets,” Lark said, voice barely above a whisper.I nodded, but my eyes stayed on the flames. “It’s a worse night for cowards.”A beat passed.“I didn’t say you were one,” Lark replied gently. “Just… you’re holding something back.”I finally turned to him. “I want this done. I want it done *right*. And I want our people alive. That’s not hesitation. That’s a promise.”Lark watched me carefully. “So it’s just Asher and Ember.”I nodded. “They’re the poison. We cut them out, maybe the rest can heal. No one else gets touched.”“Raven’s Peak won’t see it that way,” Lark said. “They’l

**Scene: Flashback – Asher’s POV**It had rained that morning.The scent of damp earth still clung to the stones as Asher stood at the edge of the Moon Room, silent, watchful. He was younger then—barely out of his first shift—but Thane had brought him anyway, told him to listen, *not just with your ears, but with your spine*.The old wolves were seated in a loose circle around the firepit, its flame more for ceremony than warmth. A dozen voices, some murmuring, some sharp, had filled the room for the last hour.But now it was quiet.Because Thane Nightshade was speaking.“As wolves,” Thane said, standing with his arms folded behind his back, “we are guardians of a wildness the world forgets. We are strength, yes—but we are not savagery.”Some nodded. Others shifted, uneasy.“Our ancestors forged these borders to keep humans out,” he continued, “but I believe the future will not be built by walls. It will be built by bridges.”A ripple went through the circle.“We cannot rule through f

**Scene: Neutral Pov The War Room – Night Before the Blood Moon**The hall was quieter than usual.Not because it was empty—it was far from it. The warriors of Julian’s side had gathered, shoulder to shoulder, boots muddy, cloaks damp from the mist outside. But no one spoke above a murmur. The kind of quiet that meant everyone was listening.Julian stood at the front of the old stone room, one hand resting on the edge of the long table, fingers curled into the wood like it might steady him.To his left stood his mother, **Vivianne**—still and regal, her presence commanding even in silence. And just behind them, a little off-center, **Aiden**, his uncle. Stoic. Watching everything.Julian cleared his throat, trying to ease the dryness that had crept in during the long walk up the mountain. His voice was steady, but softer than most expected when he spoke.“I’m not here to promise we’ll all come back the same,” he began. “I won’t insult you by pretending this isn’t dangerous. Or complic