*ZARA’S POV* The Moonwell glows faintly in the predawn light, its waters rippling as if stirred by an unseen hand. The grove is silent now, the echoes of battle replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional chirp of waking birds. My body aches, every muscle protesting as I kneel beside the well, my fingers trailing through the cool, silvery water. “She’s here,” Selene whispers, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo. She stands beside me, her tiny hand gripping mine, her eyes glowing faintly with the same light that dances on the water’s surface. “Who’s here, baby?” I ask, though I already know the answer. “The moon lady,” she says simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Behind us, Ryland shifts uneasily, his arms crossed over his chest. Silas leans against him, half-asleep, his golden aura flickering weakly. The battle took its toll on all of us, but the twins bore the brunt of it. Their powers, still raw and untamed, drained them in ways I can’t
ZARA’S POV The packhouse is alive with noise—clattering dishes, murmured conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter. It’s a sound I haven’t heard in years, not since before the elders’ betrayal. The air smells of roasted meat and fresh bread, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood that lingered just days ago. I stand at the head of the long dining table, my fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the back of Ryland’s chair. The twins are seated nearby, Silas shoveling food into his mouth with the enthusiasm of a starving wolf, while Selene picks at her plate, her silver eyes darting around the room. “They’re watching us,” she whispers, tugging at my sleeve. I follow her gaze to a group of warriors huddled near the fireplace. Their eyes flicker to me, then away, their expressions unreadable. “Let them watch,” I say, forcing a smile. “They’re just curious.” “Curious or suspicious?” Ryland’s voice is low as he steps up beside me, his hand brushing mine. I
ZARA’S POV The morning sun filters through the trees, casting dappled light over the training grounds. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and earth. I stand at the edge of the clearing, watching as Ryland adjusts the small dagger strapped to Silas’s belt. Our son’s face is a mix of excitement and nervousness, his golden eyes wide as he looks up at his father. “Do I really need this?” Silas asks, his voice trembling slightly. Ryland crouches to his level, his tone firm but gentle. “You’re a future Alpha, Silas. You need to be ready.” “But I’m just a kid,” Silas protests, his small hands fidgeting with the dagger’s hilt. “You’re more than that,” Ryland says, his gray eyes softening. “You’re Solara. And that means you have a responsibility to protect the pack.” Selene skips over, her silver eyes glowing faintly. “The moon lady says I’ll be *queen* one day.” Ryland chuckles, ruffling her hair. “And you’ll be the best queen this pack has ever seen.” I step f
ZARA’S POV The forest is too quiet. Even the crickets have gone silent, as though the earth itself is holding its breath. Moonlight filters through the trees, casting skeletal shadows over the clearing where Ryland and I stand shoulder to shoulder, our wolves taut with anticipation. Silas and Selene hover behind us, their small hands clasped together, their powers a faint hum beneath their skin. “They’re close,” Ryland murmurs, his claws unsheathed. His gray eyes scan the treeline, sharp and unflinching. I nod, my throat tight. The air reeks of pine and iron—*blood*. Zane’s allies have been circling the territory for days, their howls echoing like taunts in the dark. Tonight, they’ll make their move. Selene tugs my sleeve, her silver eyes glowing. “The moon lady says… it’s time.” Before I can respond, a guttural snarl rips through the silence. A dozen wolves burst from the shadows, their eyes feral, their teeth bared. At their helm strides a hulking figure—Kael, Zane’s lieut
ZARA’S POV The scent of pine and blood still clings to the air, even after the rogues’ bodies have been dragged away. I stand at the edge of the clearing, watching as Ryland barks orders to the warriors. The surrendered rogues kneel in a ragged line, their heads bowed, their eyes flickering with a mix of fear and defiance. Silas and Selene hover near me, their hands clasped tightly in mine. “They’re scared,” Silas whispers, his golden eyes fixed on the prisoners. “Their wolves… they’re sad.” Selene nods, her silver gaze distant. “The moon lady says they can change. If we let them.” I squeeze their hands, my throat tight. *Trusting them feels like handing a knife to a shadow.* But the twins’ instincts have never led us astray—not yet. Ryland strides over, his gray eyes stormy. “We need to decide their fate. Now.” I glance at the twins. “What do you think?” Silas steps forward, his small chin lifted. “They’re lonely. They need a pack.” Selene tugs my sleeve. “But we have
*Zara’s POV The cabin door creaked shut behind us, its rusty hinges groaning like a wounded animal. Moonlight spilled through grimy windows, casting jagged shadows on the peeling walls. Silas and Selene huddled on a moth-eaten couch, their wide eyes tracking Ryland as he moved through the room—restless, like a caged beast. “It’s cold,” Selene whispered, pulling her knees to her chest. Ryland froze mid-pace. Without a word, he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over her. The gesture was so achingly paternal that my throat tightened. “Thank you,” she said, burying her nose in the fabric. “You smell like trees.” He hesitated, his gaze flicking to me. “I’ll start a fire.” I watched him kneel at the hearth, his hands steady as he stacked kindling. The scar on his jaw twitched in the firelight, a silver slash that hadn’t been there five years ago. *What else has changed?* “Why are you helping us?” The question slipped out, sharp and unplanned. His shoulders stiffen
Zara’s POV The safehouse was a forgotten cabin nestled deep in the pines, its walls weathered but stubbornly standing. Moonlight filtered through cracks in the roof, painting silver stripes on the dusty floorboards. Silas and Selene collapsed onto a moth-eaten couch, their eyelids drooping after hours on the run. Ryland hovered near the door, his gaze darting to every shadow. “They need rest,” I said, brushing Selene’s curls from her face. Her skin was clammy, visions still flickering behind her closed lids. “We all do.” Ryland’s voice was gravel, his knuckles white where they gripped the doorframe. “But rest won’t stop what’s coming.” I shot him a glare. “They’re *children*, Ryland. Not soldiers.” “They’re more than that, and you know it.” His eyes flicked to Silas, who twitched in his sleep, a faint glow pulsing beneath his palms. The truth hung between us, heavy as a storm. I turned away, unpacking stale bread and a canteen. “We’ll leave at dawn. Find somewhere farther
Zara’s POV The gates of the Bloodfang territory loomed like jagged teeth against the dawn sky. Rusted iron groaned as Ryland shoved them open, his shoulders tense beneath the weight of Silas, who slept fitfully in his arms. Selene clung to my hand, her small fingers trembling. “It smells sad here,” she whispered, wrinkling her nose. She wasn’t wrong. The air reeked of damp earth and neglect—abandoned training grounds, overgrown gardens, and cabins with boarded-up windows. This wasn’t the thriving pack I’d fled five years ago. This was a graveyard. Ryland’s jaw tightened as we passed the charred remains of the elders’ hall. “They let it rot.” “Who?” “The pack.” His voice was hollow. “After I exiled the elders, most wolves left. Those who stayed… didn’t care enough to rebuild.” A shadow moved in the trees. A gaunt she-wolf emerged, her fur patchy and dull. She bared her teeth at me but dipped her head to Ryland. “Alpha.” “Mira.” Ryland shifted Silas higher on his hip. “G
**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.