Zara’s POV The scent of blood and burnt pine clung to the air long after the battle ended. Silas slept curled against Ryland’s chest, his small fingers still twitching with residual power. Selene clung to my leg, her cheek pressed to my thigh as she stared at the pack—now silent, now staring. “They’re scared of us,” she whispered. I smoothed her hair. “They’re just surprised, baby.” “No.” Her voice trembled. “They’re scared *for* us.” Ryland stepped forward, Silas limp in his arms, and the pack parted like water. “The children are exhausted,” he said, tone brooking no argument. “We rest tonight. Tomorrow, we rebuild *together*.” A grizzled warrior named Jarek spat into the dirt. “Rebuild what? A graveyard haunted by witches?” Ryland’s growl reverberated in my bones, but Selene slipped from my grip before I could stop her. She marched up to Jarek, her chin tilted defiantly. “You have a daughter,” she said. Jarek stiffened. “She’s dead.” “No.” Selene pressed a tiny ha
You don’t sleep. Not when the twins’ nightmares have returned. Silas whimpers first, his small hands clawing at the blankets. Selene follows, her tiny body jerking awake as if pulled by invisible strings. You’re already halfway to their bedroom when their twin cries slice through the dark. “Mommy—” Silas chokes out, tears streaking his cheeks. “The fire-eyed man… he’s *close*.” Your stomach knots. Zane. “Shhh, it’s just a dream,” you lie, gathering them into your arms. Their small frames tremble against you, their shared heartbeat too frantic for children so young. You hate this—the way their gifts trap them in visions they can’t escape. A floorboard creaks behind you. You spin, shielding the twins with your body, but it’s only Ryland. Moonlight spills through the window, etching the hard lines of his face. He’s still dressed, his shirt rumpled, eyes shadowed. You wonder if he’s slept at all since arriving here. “They saw him again?” His voice is gravel-rough. Selene
Second Person POV You don’t have time to scream. The world fractures into chaos—glass shards rain down like jagged hail, Zane’s feral snarls echoing through the broken windows. Silas clings to Ryland’s neck, his tiny fingers digging into the Alpha’s skin, while Selene scrambles behind the overturned couch. Shadows writhe like living things, their tendrils lashing at Ryland’s wolf as he shields the children. “Get them out!” you shout, but the command dies in your throat as Zane’s amber eyes lock onto yours through the shattered frame. He’s not the man who brought you groceries or fixed the twins’ swing set. This Zane is all predator, his human form blurred at the edges, claws elongating into obsidian daggers. “You *owed* me, Zara,” he hisses. “I gave you shelter. I *loved* them.” Ryland shifts back mid-snarl, blood streaking his bare chest. “Touch them and I’ll peel the flesh from your bones.” Zane laughs—a broken, hollow sound. “You think you’re still their savior, Cross?
Ryland Pov You wake to the sound of Selene’s whimpers, her small fists clawing at the air as if fighting invisible chains. Silas lies rigid beside her, his eyes wide and unblinking, moonlight reflecting off the tears streaking his temples. They’ve shared a bed since the attack, their nightmares too synchronized to separate. “It’s okay,” you whisper, gathering them close. Their skin burns against yours, feverish and damp. “You’re safe.” Selene buries her face in your neck. “The lady with the crown… She wants to *take* us.” Silas nods, his voice hollow. “She smells like ash and lies.” *The Elders.* Ryland’s warnings echo in your skull. *They’ll come for the twins. For their power.* You hum a lullaby, the same one your mother sang before the Bloodfang Pack slaughtered her. The twins’ breathing evens, but their hands stay fisted in your shirt. Ryland stands in the doorway, a shadow among shadows. “They’re getting worse,” he says. You don’t answer. --- ### **||** Break
--- The gates creak open, and the scent of blood hits you like a wall. The Bloodfang compound is a graveyard. Bodies litter the courtyard—warriors, Omegas, even children. Their throats are slit, their eyes wide and unseeing. The air reeks of iron and betrayal. “What the hell…” Ryland’s voice is a low growl, his sword gleaming in the torchlight. Selene whimpers, burying her face in your neck. “They’re scared, Mommy. All of them.” Silas grips your hand tighter. “The crowned lady did this. She’s… laughing.” Your stomach churns. The Elders. They’ve turned on their own pack. Ryland steps forward, his boots crunching on shattered glass. “Show yourself, Marcellus!” The shadows shift. Elder Marcellus emerges from the darkness, his robes stained crimson. His face is gaunt, his eyes hollow. “You’re too late, Ryland. The ritual has begun.” “What ritual?” you demand, shifting to shield the twins. Marcellus smiles—a grotesque twist of lips. “The one that will make us gods.”
Ryland Pov The bonfire crackles, painting the pack’s faces in warm, flickering light. Laughter rings out—a sound so foreign after months of fear—as warriors pass around spiced mead and children chase each other through the long grass. Even the stars seem brighter tonight, as though the Moon Goddess herself is celebrating. You sit beside Ryland on the dais, his thigh pressed to yours, the twins asleep in his lap. Selene’s cheek smushes against his chest, her curls wild from Silas’s earlier attempts to braid them. For the first time in years, your wolf is quiet. *Peaceful*. Ryland’s fingers brush yours. “They’re safe, Zara,” he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts. “We’re *all* safe.” You want to believe him. But the scars on your ribs ache, and Silas’s hands still glow faintly in his sleep. A cheer erupts as Elder Kael—*former* Elder, now just Kael—raises his cup. “To our Alpha and Luna! To the twins who shattered the darkness!” The pack roars. Ryland’s arm tightens around
Zara's POV The bakery is quiet, the soft hum of the oven the only sound breaking the silence. The twins are at the counter, their heads bent over a coloring book, their little hands moving in sync as they fill the pages with bright, chaotic colors. I watch them from the kitchen, my heart swelling with a mix of love and fear. They’re so innocent, so unaware of the storm brewing just outside the fragile bubble I’ve built for them. And then the door opens. The bell above it jingles, a sound so familiar it usually brings me comfort. But not today. Today, it feels like a warning. I step out of the kitchen, wiping my hands on my apron, and freeze. Ryland stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, his presence overwhelming. His dark eyes sweep the room, landing on the twins before finally settling on me. My heart stops. “Mommy?” Selene’s voice is small, curious. She peeks around me, her wide eyes darting between me and Ryland. “Who’s that?” I don’t answer. I
Zara's POV The days after Ryland’s arrival blur together, each one a strange mix of tension and tentative hope. He doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. He just… stays. He lingers on the edges of our lives, watching, waiting, as if he’s afraid to step too close. The twins, of course, are curious. They ask questions—questions I don’t know how to answer. “Is he our daddy?” Selene asks one evening as I tuck her into bed. I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. “Why do you ask that?” She shrugs, her little face serious. “He looks like us. And he smells… familiar.” I swallow hard, my throat tight. “He’s… someone from Mommy’s past. But he’s not your daddy.” It’s a lie, and I hate myself for it. But I’m not ready to tell them the truth. Not yet. Silas, ever the perceptive one, doesn’t ask. He just watches Ryland with a quiet intensity, like he’s trying to figure him out. One afternoon, I find Ryland sitting on the porch, his head in his hands. He looks up when I approach, his eyes shado
**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.