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.
Ryland Pov The cave is too quiet. Even the twins’ soft breaths feel like an intrusion, a reminder of how fragile this peace is. You sit with your back against the cold stone wall, Silas curled against your side, his golden glow faint but steady. Selene sleeps with her head in your lap, her silver hair tangled from the night’s chaos. Ryland stands at the cave’s entrance, his silhouette a dark shadow against the moonlit trees. His shoulders are tense, his gaze scanning the forest for threats. You hate how your eyes linger on him, how your wolf stirs at his nearness. “You should rest,” you say, your voice sharp. He doesn’t turn. “I’ll sleep when you’re safe.” “We’re not safe,” you snap. “We’ll never be safe.” He finally looks at you, his gray eyes stormy. “Then let me fix that.” You scoff. “You can’t fix this. You can’t fix *us*.” His jaw tightens. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m asking you to let me protect you.” “Why?” Your voice cracks. “So you can feel better
Ryland Pov The Shadow Pack’s camp is a maze of tattered tents and smoldering fires. The air reeks of fear and betrayal, the remnants of Zane’s rule lingering like a curse. You clutch the twins’ hands, their small fingers trembling in yours, as Ryland leads you through the chaos. “Stay close,” he murmurs, his voice low. You glare at him. “I don’t need your protection.” His jaw tightens. “Maybe not. But they do.” You glance at Silas and Selene, their wide eyes reflecting the camp’s flickering torches. They’ve seen too much, endured too much. And it’s your fault. “This way,” Ryland says, gesturing to a large tent at the center of the camp. You hesitate. “What’s in there?” “Answers.” The tent is dimly lit, its walls adorned with faded tapestries depicting wolves and moons. At its center stands a stone altar, its surface etched with ancient runes. “What is this?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Ryland steps forward, his fingers tracing the runes. “The elde
Ryland Pov The forest is a blur of shadows and moonlight as you run, the twins’ hands clamped in yours. Ryland’s ragged breaths echo behind you, his wolf form limping but relentless. The air reeks of burnt magic and blood—Elder Marus’s doing. “Faster,” Ryland growls, his voice distorted by the shift. “He’s gaining.” You glance back. Marus’s monstrous form crashes through the trees, his eyes glowing like molten iron. The twins whimper, their fear sharp in the air. “Mommy,” Silas gasps, his golden aura flickering. “The stone… it’s calling.” “What stone?” Your voice cracks. “The Heart of the Grove,” Ryland pants. “The sanctuary. It’s close.” You don’t ask how he knows. You don’t care. The twins’ survival is all that matters. The trees part abruptly, revealing a moss-covered ruin. A stone archway stands at its center, carved with symbols that mirror the twins’ glow. “Inside,” Ryland orders, shifting back to human form. Blood streaks his chest, but his gaze is steel. Yo
Ryland Pov The sanctuary trembles, dust cascading from the ancient stone arches as the Moon Goddess’s voice fades. The dagger—*your* dagger—burns cold in your grip, its moonlight blade casting jagged shadows across Ryland’s face. His gray eyes lock onto yours, unflinching, as the twins cling to your legs. “We need to go,” Ryland says, his voice frayed. “This place won’t hold.” You tighten your hold on the dagger. “Not until you tell me what this *really* does.” He steps closer, blood still seeping from the gashes Marus left. “It binds bloodlines. Cross and Solara. It’s the only way to secure the twins’ power.” “Or hand it to the elders,” you snap. Selene tugs your sleeve, her silver eyes wide. “The moon lady says it’s a key. Not a weapon.” Silas presses his palm to the dagger’s hilt. Symbols flare—a crescent moon devouring flames. “It’s *for* us, Mommy. To make the packs listen.” Ryland’s jaw tightens. “We don’t have time for this. Zane’s coming.” As if summoned, a h
**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.