Ryland's POV I couldn’t get the image of Eli out of my head—his vacant eyes, the blood pooling around him. It was as if the world had stopped, and all that remained was the crushing weight of what I had just witnessed. My heart raced, but there was no time to grieve. Not yet. I left the building, the air outside doing little to cool the fire that was burning inside me. The city stretched out before me, dark and unyielding. I could hear the distant hum of traffic, but it felt like a world away. Every step I took felt like it carried more significance, like the ground beneath me was suddenly much less stable. I needed answers. I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders, the cold nipping at my skin, but the chill didn’t bother me. I was numb. I had to be. I took out my phone, dialing the number of someone I hadn’t spoken to in years. A name I had buried under layers of regret and time. A voice crackled through the line on the third ring. “Ryland?” It was Luca. His voi
Zara's Pov You stand at the edge of the room, hands trembling, heart pounding in your chest. The silence is suffocating, thick with tension, but you refuse to break. You’re not sure what’s worse: the dread crawling up your spine or the realization that you’ve been too blind to see it all along. Zara’s presence lingers like smoke in the air. You can feel her, even when she’s not in the room. And when she does appear, it's like she knows exactly what buttons to press, each word a calculated strike. Her control over the situation is suffocating, but what cuts deeper is the feeling that you’re trapped—trapped in this game, in her web. “Do you really think you can change things, Ryland?” her voice floats through the door, so calm, so assured. “You’ve been running, but you know deep down… it’s all futile.” Your breath hitches, but you don’t respond. You know that any word you say will be twisted, turned into something that’s not even yours. She’s too good at that, at using people’s
Zara's POV The room feels smaller with him in it. Ryland’s presence is overwhelming, like a storm cloud pressing down on the bakery. My heart races, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or something else entirely. My wolf is silent, but I can feel her stirring, restless and wary. “Mommy?” Selene’s voice is soft, but it cuts through the tension like a knife. She tugs at my apron, her wide eyes darting between me and Ryland. “Who is he?” I swallow hard, my throat dry. How do I explain this? How do I tell my children that the man standing before them is their father? The man who rejected me, who left me to raise them alone? Ryland takes a step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. “Zara,” he says again, his voice low and rough. “We need to talk.” I shake my head, backing away. “No. You don’t get to just show up here and demand to talk. You lost that right five years ago.” His jaw tightens, and I see the flicker of pain in his eyes. Good. Let him feel even a fraction of the hurt he c
ZARA'S POV The forest is a cacophony of snapping branches and labored breaths. Silas stumbles beside me, his small hand slick with sweat in mine, while Selene clings to my back, her whispered pleas muffled against my neck. Ryland moves ahead like a shadow, his broad shoulders tense beneath the tattered remains of his shirt. Blood seeps from a gash on his arm, the metallic tang sharpening the air. “The moon lady says we’re close,” Selene murmurs, her breath hitching. “But the stone is… *angry*.” I tighten my grip on her. “What stone?” “The guardian,” Ryland says grimly, not turning. “It protects the Moonwell. The elders called it a curse, but it’s just a judge.” “A judge?” My laugh is brittle. “Of what?” “Worth.” A howl splits the night. Closer this time. Silas tugs my hand, his golden glow flickering. “They’re here.” Zane’s rogues burst from the trees, eyes feral, teeth bared. Ryland shoves the twins behind him, his snarl reverberating in my bones. “Stay back!” The
ZARA'S POV The river’s roar drowns Zane’s laughter as the last plank of the bridge vanishes into the churning rapids. My arms tighten around Silas and Selene, their small bodies trembling against mine. Ryland stands at the cliff’s edge, bloodied and breathless, his gaze locked on Zane’s retreating silhouette across the gorge. “He’ll find another way,” I say, voice raw. “We need to move.” Ryland doesn’t turn. “The river’s too swift to cross. We’re trapped on this side.” Selene buries her face in my neck, her whisper trembling. “The moon lady says… we’re not alone.” A twig snaps in the woods behind us. Ryland spins, claws unsheathed. “Stay behind me.” I bristle but herd the twins closer. The forest reeks of damp pine and iron—*blood*. Silas grips my hand, his palm fever-hot. “The bad wolves are coming,” he murmurs, his golden glow flickering like a dying ember. “How many?” Ryland growls. Silas winces. “Too many.” --- We plunge into the trees, the moon a fractured s
ZARA'S POV The Moonwell’s glow bathes the clearing in an ethereal blue, but the peace is brittle. Silas sags against me, his golden aura dimming with each labored breath. Selene clutches Ryland’s hand, her wide eyes reflecting the stars as she whispers, “The bad man’s coming. And he’s *burning*.” Ryland’s jaw tightens. “Zane won’t stop until he’s dead. Or we are.” I adjust Silas in my arms, his feverish skin searing through my shirt. “Then we make sure it’s him.” The guardian’s voice echoes from the monolith, its form flickering like dying embers. *“The heir’s power is unstable. You must anchor him.”* “How?” I demand. *“Blood calls to blood.”* Its gaze pierces Ryland. *“The Cross line bears the cost.”* Ryland doesn’t hesitate. He slices his palm and presses it to Silas’s chest. The boy gasps, his glow flaring bright as Ryland’s veins light up gold. “Whatever it takes,” Ryland growls, his voice strained. Selene presses her tiny hand over theirs. “The moon lady says… *tog
ZARA'S POV The forest is too quiet. Even the wind holds its breath, as if the trees themselves are waiting to see what we’ll do next. Silas and Selene slump against me, their warmth a fragile anchor as Ryland kneels to inspect the elders’ lifeless bodies. His hands are steady, but I see the tremor in his jaw—the one he thinks I don’t notice. “They’re gone,” he says, voice rough. “All of them.” “Good.” The word tastes like ash. I want to feel relief, but all I taste is dread. The twins stir, their eyelids fluttering. Selene’s fingers curl into my sleeve, her whisper barely audible. “The moon lady’s tired, Mommy. She needs to sleep.” I brush her hair back, my throat tight. “Then let her rest, baby.” Ryland rises, blood streaking his temple. “We can’t stay here. Other packs will have felt the shift in power. They’ll come.” “For the twins?” “For *them*.” He nods at the Moonwell, its waters still glowing faintly. “And for you.” I stiffen. “I’m no one’s prize.” “No.” His
Ryland Pov The fire crackles, its warmth a fragile shield against the night’s chill. You sit cross-legged on the damp forest floor, the twins curled against your sides. Silas’s head rests in your lap, his golden glow flickering like a dying star. Selene clings to your arm, her silver eyes reflecting the flames. Ryland sits across from you, his broad shoulders hunched, his hands clasped tightly. Blood streaks his temple, a reminder of the fight that nearly cost him his life. His gray eyes flicker to you, then away, as if he’s afraid to hold your gaze for too long. “You need to eat,” he says, holding out a strip of dried venison. His voice is softer than you remember, stripped of its Alpha edge. You ignore him, your fingers brushing Silas’s feverish forehead. “He’s getting worse.” “The Moonwell’s water stabilized him. For now.” Ryland leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “We need to keep moving. Zane’s wolves will track the magic.” You snap your gaze to his.
**Silas’s POV** The Trinity steps forward, its tri-colored eye burning like a dying star. The ground beneath its feet cracks, veins of violet and gold spreading like poisoned roots. Its voice echoes with the First Shadow’s malice, the crow’s cunning, and something else—something raw and hungry. *“You cannot run from inevitability,”* it croons, flexing a hand woven of shadow and light. *“The Veil’s chaos is my birthright.”* The void wolf circles us, its eyeless gaze piercing. Selene grips my arm, her bloodied sleeve staining my skin. “We need to split up. Distract it.” Jarek steps between us and the Trinity, his dagger trembling. “Go. I’ll hold it.” “You’ll die,” I snap. He bares his teeth. “Better than living useless.” The Trinity laughs, a sound like shattering glass. *“How noble. Let’s test that.”* It flicks a finger. The void wolf lunges. **Selene’s Flight** We sprint into the skeletal forest, the Trinity’s laughter chasing us. My glow flickers, strained from s
**Silas’s POV** The scar itches. Not the searing pain of before, but a slow, creeping burn that makes my skin crawl. I scratch at it absently, my gaze locked on the golden crow—*gray-eyed* crow—perched in the dead oak. Its once-bright plumage is dull, streaked with ash, and it watches me with an unsettling stillness. “It’s changing,” I mutter to Selene. She doesn’t look up from the map of Veil fractures. “Everything’s changing.” The pack’s camp buzzes with wary energy. Wolves sharpen blades, mutter prayers, and side-eye Jarek as he hauls water from the creek. His shoulders are hunched, his movements mechanical, like a puppet held together by guilt. Ryland emerges from his tent, his gaze sweeping the clearing. “Scouts report a new tear near the southern ridge. Selene, Silas—you’ll lead the team to seal it.” Jarek steps forward, his voice rough. “Let me go instead. They shouldn’t risk—” “You’ve risked enough,” Ryland snaps. The crow caws abruptly, its gray eye flashing.
**Ryland’s POV** The pack’s council fire burns low, its embers reflecting the fractured trust in the wolves’ eyes. Jarek sits apart, his head bowed, the shadow crow’s corruption scrubbed from his veins but not his soul. The guilt radiating from him is palpable, a stench even the night wind can’t carry away. Kieran tosses a log onto the fire, sparks spiraling into the dark. “We need to fortify the borders. The Veil’s tears are seeping into the territory. Last night, the river turned black.” Murmurs ripple through the pack. A young mother clutches her pup closer. “Will it spread here?” “No,” I say, the lie smooth and heavy. “We’ll contain it.” Jarek’s laugh is a broken rasp. “You don’t even believe that.” Silence falls. The fire crackles, its light flickering over the scars we all wear. Selene steps into the circle, her glow dim but steady. “The Veil’s heart is weak, but not broken. We can still save it.” “How?” Jarek challenges. “With more sacrifices? More *children’s*
**Ryland’s POV** The ground splinters beneath our feet, jagged fissures snaking outward like veins of decay. The air vibrates with the Veil’s anguished scream, a sound that claws at the mind and soul. Jarek stands at the tomb’s entrance, the black shard pulsing in his grip, his eyes twin pools of violet fire. “You’ve doomed us all,” I snarl, shifting as the pack scatters behind me. He laughs, the shadow crow perched on his shoulder like a twisted crown. “No, Alpha. I’ve *freed* us.” The shard’s energy writhes around him, tendrils of darkness lashing at the crumbling stone. Behind him, the tomb’s heart—a fractured mirror—quivers, its remaining shards teetering on the edge of collapse. “Stand down, Jarek,” I growl, circling him. “This isn’t you.” “Isn’t it?” He bares his teeth, the corruption snaking up his neck. “You coddled those brats while the pack starved for strength. The Shadow offers what you never could.” The shadow crow croons, its voice harmonizing with the Vei
**Selene’s POV** The water is ice and fire, clawing at my skin as I’m dragged deeper. My glow flickers, struggling against the suffocating darkness. The golden shard gleams below, its light distorted by the rippling surface. “Let go!” I scream, kicking at the clawed hand gripping my ankle. The creature—half shadow, half memory—turns, its face a grotesque mockery of Zara’s. *“You cannot mend what you refuse to face,”* it hisses. I focus on the bond, on Silas’s frantic presence. *“I’m here,”* I whisper, though the water steals my voice. The golden crow’s cry pierces the depths. *“Remember.”* --- **Silas’s Desperation** The lake’s surface freezes over the moment Selene disappears. I slam my fists against the ice, the scar on my chest burning. “Selene!” The golden crow lands beside me, its gold eye dim. *“The Veil tests her. You must face your own trial.”* “I’m not leaving her!” *“You must,”* it insists. *“Or you’ll both be lost.”* The ice cracks beneath my hands,
**Silas’s POV** The tomb’s explosion leaves a ringing silence. Smoke and shards of the mirror hang suspended in the air, glinting like frozen stars. My scar burns, a molten brand searing through muscle and bone. Zara’s voice lingers in my skull, a ghostly echo. *“Courage, Silas. Not for you—for them.”* The crow’s split forms hover above the chaos—one a writhing mass of shadow and feathers, the other a radiant silhouette of starlight. Their twin gazes lock onto me, one accusing, one pleading. Selene staggers to my side, her glow fractured. “What did you do?” “I… don’t know.” The suspended shards quiver. Then, like a breath exhaled, they surge outward. --- **Ryland’s POV** The blast flings me into the tomb’s wall. Stone cracks beneath my spine, but I’m on my feet in an instant. “Selene! Silas!” The twins stand at the epicenter, unharmed but haloed in a corona of light and shadow. Around them, the pack scrambles—Jarek cursing as a shard slices his arm, Kieran dragging a
**Silas’s POV** The crow perches on the charred remains of the sacred oak, its mismatched eyes piercing the twilight. Violet and gold—corruption and something else, something that claws at my chest where the scar lies dormant. I press a hand to it, the skin cold and taut. *“You feel it, don’t you?”* The voice is softer now, a serpentine whisper instead of a roar. *“The fracture. The choice.”* “Shut up,” I mutter, turning away. But the crow’s gaze follows, relentless. Selene finds me at the forest’s edge, her glow dimmed by exhaustion. “You’re hiding again.” I don’t answer. The scar throbs, a silent warning. --- **Ryland’s Dilemma** The pack council fractures like rotten wood. Jarek stands before the gathered wolves, his axe slung over his shoulder. “We buried Mara. We bled for the tomb. And what do we have? A bird and a scar.” Ryland’s growl silences the murmurs. “We have survival. Or would you prefer the Shadow’s chains?” “I’d prefer a leader who doesn’t gamble ou
**Silas’s POV** The Shadow’s new form looms over me, a grotesque fusion of matted fur and glistening feathers. His violet eyes burn like twin pyres, and his talons—half claw, half bone—scrape against the tomb’s stone floor. The air reeks of decay, the Veil’s corrupted energy thickening until I can barely breathe. *“You should have knelt,”* the Shadow hisses, his voice a chorus of caws and snarls. *“Now you’ll die as your mother did—alone.”* My scar flares, a searing reminder of Zara’s sacrifice. I clutch my chest, gritting my teeth against the pain. “I’m *never* alone.” Her voice whispers through the tomb, faint but unyielding. *“Use the bond, Silas. Trust her.”* I close my eyes and reach for Selene. --- **Selene’s POV** Kieran’s blade trembles against my throat, his breath ragged. The rot has spread up his arms, blackening his veins. “Fight him, Kieran!” I plead. “You’re stronger than this!” His pupils flicker—brown, then violet. *“He’s… gone…”* The roots surging
**Silas’s POV** The pyre’s smoke curls into the dawn sky, carrying the acrid stench of betrayal. Mara’s ashes mingle with the frost, but the pack’s eyes linger on me—not with reverence, but fear. My scar pulses faintly, a reminder of the Shadow’s whispers that still snake through my dreams. “You’re staring again,” Selene murmurs, her glow dimmed by exhaustion. I rip my gaze from the crow perched atop the charred remains of the sacred oak. Its violet eye glints, unblinking. “It’s watching us.” “It’s just a bird,” she says, but her trembling hands betray her doubt. The crow caws, sharp and mocking, before vanishing into the mist. --- **Ryland’s Burden** The pack gathers in the hollow, their murmurs a storm of grief and suspicion. Jarek stands apart, sharpening his axe with deliberate slowness. “Mara’s betrayal doesn’t erase her years of loyalty,” Ryland declares, his voice raw. “We mourn her. Then we rebuild.” “Rebuild *what*?” a young warrior snaps. “The rot’s back.