Zara’s POV The twins’ laughter echoes through the forest, a sound so pure it almost drowns out the unease clawing at my chest. Silas and Selene dart between the trees, their small hands brushing against bark and leaves as they play a game only they understand. Ryland walks beside me, his presence a steady hum of warmth, but I keep my distance. Trust is still a fragile thing, like glass balanced on the edge of a table. “They’re adapting well,” Ryland says, his voice low, careful. I nod, my eyes never leaving the twins. “They’ve always loved the woods. Even when we lived in town, they’d beg to explore the park.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re naturals. Look at how they move—like they’ve known these trails their whole lives.” I bite back the sharp reply on my tongue. *They should have.* This life—the scent of pine, the rhythm of the pack, the safety of a territory—should have been theirs from the start. But I don’t say it. The past is a wound we’re both
Zara's POV The scent of burnt sage and dried blood clings to the air, a bitter reminder of the battle we barely survived. The pack gathers in the central clearing at dusk, their faces gaunt under the fading light. Three pyres burn at the edge of the territory, flames devouring the bodies of the warriors lost to Zane’s ambush. Ryland stands at the front, his posture rigid, his voice steady as he recites the rites of passage. But I see the tremor in his hands, the way his jaw clenches every time the wind carries the twins’ whispers to his ears. *We failed them.* The guilt is a living thing, gnawing at my ribs. Selene presses her face into my side, her small fingers clutching my sleeve. “Why are they burning, Mommy?” “It’s how we say goodbye,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “Their spirits will join the Moon Goddess now.” Silas says nothing. He stares at the flames, his eyes reflecting the firelight like twin coals. There’s a stillness in him that frightens me, a quiet too heavy fo
Zara's POV The forest is quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that feels heavy, like the world is holding its breath. The twins are asleep in their room, their small bodies curled together under a blanket of moonlight. I sit on the porch, my fingers tracing the rim of a teacup I haven’t touched. The steam has long since faded, but I can’t bring myself to move. Ryland steps out of the shadows, his presence a low hum against my senses. He doesn’t say anything at first, just leans against the railing and stares into the trees. “Can’t sleep?” he asks finally, his voice soft. I shake my head. “Too much noise in my head.” He nods, like he understands. Maybe he does. The weight of the pack, the twins, the constant threat of Zane—it’s a lot for anyone to carry. “They’re getting stronger,” he says after a moment. “The twins. Lira says they’re progressing faster than she expected.” “That’s not always a good thing,” I murmur, my gaze drifting to the window where the twins sleep. “They’
Zara's POV The forest is a blur of shadows and moonlight as we race back to the Bloodfang territory. My heart pounds in time with my paws hitting the ground, each step echoing the frantic rhythm of my thoughts. *The twins. The twins. The twins.* Ryland runs beside me, his massive wolf form cutting through the underbrush like a blade. The rest of the pack follows, their snarls and growls a grim symphony that chills the night air. The howl we heard wasn’t just a warning—it was a cry for help. When we reach the edge of the territory, the scent of smoke and blood hits me like a punch to the gut. The safehouse is in ruins, its walls charred and crumbling. The air is thick with the acrid stench of burning wood and the metallic tang of blood. “No,” I whisper, shifting back to my human form as I stumble toward the wreckage. My legs feel like they’re made of lead, each step heavier than the last. Ryland shifts beside me, his hand gripping my arm. “Zara, wait—” I shake him off, my vi
Zara’s POV The first frost of the season dusts the forest floor, glittering like shattered diamonds under the pale morning sun. Winter has always been a time of quiet—of huddling close for warmth, of stories whispered by firelight. But this year, the cold feels different. It’s not just the chill in the air; it’s the weight of what we’ve survived, the ghosts of what we’ve lost. The twins sit cross-legged in the clearing, their breath visible in sharp puffs as Lira guides them through another lesson. Selene’s palms glow faintly, cradling a sphere of silver light, while Silas traces symbols in the air that linger like glowing embers. Their control is better now, steadier, but I still catch the flicker of fear in their eyes when the power surges. Ryland leans against a tree beside me, his arms crossed, his gaze never leaving the twins. “They’re getting stronger every day,” he murmurs, pride softening the hard edges of his voice. “Too strong,” I say, my throat tight. “What happens w
Zara’s POV The Northern Ridge Pack arrives at noon, their arrival heralded by the sharp crack of frost underfoot and the low rumble of their Alpha’s voice. They’re a rugged group, their fur thick and matted from the harsh northern winters, their eyes sharp and assessing as they step into our territory. Their Alpha, a broad-shouldered man named Torin, strides toward Ryland with a confidence that borders on arrogance. His gaze sweeps over the clearing, lingering on the twins where they sit with Lira, their heads bent over a pile of glowing stones. “So,” Torin says, his voice a deep rumble, “these are the children everyone’s talking about.” Ryland steps forward, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “They’re more than just talk, Torin. They’re the future.” Torin snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “The future, huh? They look like pups to me.” I bristle, my wolf stirring beneath my skin, but Ryland’s hand on my arm stops me from speaking. “They’re young,” Ryland admit
Zara’s POV The air smells of pine and impending snow, the kind of cold that seeps into bones and whispers of long nights. The alliance campsite buzzes with tension tonight—not the sharp, battle-ready kind, but the simmering unease of wolves circling unfamiliar territory. Silverclaw, Northern Ridge, and Bloodfang mingling around fires, sharing meat but not words. The truce holds, but barely. Ryland stands at the center of it all, his voice steady as he discusses patrol rotations with Torin and Kaela. His Alpha aura hums low and constant, a grounding force. But I see the strain in the set of his shoulders, the way his gaze flicks to the twins every few minutes. Silas and Selene sit with Lira near the oldest oak, its branches clawing at the moonlit sky. Lira’s hands move as she speaks, painting stories in the air, while the twins trace glowing patterns in the frost. Selene laughs, her light flaring gold, but Silas’s silver sparks falter. His eyes dart to the shadows between the tree
Zara’s POV The twins sleep for three days. Their small bodies lie still in the healing den, their chests rising and falling in perfect sync. The star-shaped mark on Selene’s chest glows faintly, a reminder of the darkness they’ve absorbed. Silas’s mark is fainter, almost hidden beneath his collarbone, but it pulses in time with his sister’s. Lira sits beside them, her gnarled hands resting on their foreheads as she murmurs ancient incantations. The air smells of sage and something sharper, metallic, like the tang of blood after a fight. Ryland hasn’t left their side. He sits in the corner, his face shadowed, his hands clenched into fists. Every so often, his gaze flickers to the twins, and I see the fear in his eyes—the fear of losing them, of failing them again. I can’t sit still. I pace the length of the den, my wolf restless beneath my skin. The Priestess’s words echo in my mind: *The darkness is inside them now. They had to take it to close the gate.* What does that mea
Zara’s POV The forest is unnervingly quiet this morning, the usual chorus of birdsong replaced by a heavy silence. I watch from the edge of the clearing as Silas and Selene kneel beside Lyra, their small hands pressed to the frost-laced ground. Lyra’s voice is a low murmur, her silver hair blending with the pale dawn light. “Focus on the currents,” she instructs. “The Veil is not a tool—it is a living thing. Respect its rhythm.” Selene’s glow brightens, tendrils of light spiraling from her fingertips into the earth. Beside her, Silas scowls, his palms flat against the soil. “It’s fighting me,” he grumbles. “Because you’re forcing it,” Lyra chides. “You must *listen*, Silas. The Veil responds to intention, not dominance.” I clutch my cloak tighter, the cold seeping into my bones. Every lesson feels like a step closer to losing them—to this destiny that demands too much, too soon. Ryland’s hand settles on my shoulder. “They’re getting stronger,” he says, but his voice lacks
Zara’s POV The Veil’s Guardian—Lyra, as she introduced herself—has taken up residence in a secluded corner of the Bloodfang territory. Her presence is both a comfort and a reminder of the weight the twins carry. Every morning, Silas and Selene disappear into the forest with her, returning hours later with stories of lessons that sound more like riddles. “She says the Veil is like a river,” Selene explains one evening, her glow flickering as she mimics Lyra’s graceful hand movements. “And we have to learn how to swim in it without drowning.” Silas rolls his eyes. “It’s not that hard. You just have to focus.” I exchange a glance with Ryland, who’s been unusually quiet since Lyra’s arrival. “What do you think of her?” I ask later, as we prepare for bed. He hesitates, his gray eyes shadowed. “She’s powerful. And she cares about the twins. But I don’t trust her.” “Neither do I,” I admit. “But if she can help them control their powers…” “Then we’ll let her stay,” he finishes. “
**Zara’s POV** The first snow of winter blankets the Bloodfang territory, turning the forest into a glittering wonderland. The pack is quieter now, the echoes of battle replaced by the soft crunch of snow underfoot. But peace is fragile, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s only a matter of time before the next storm hits. The twins are outside, their laughter ringing through the clearing as they chase each other through the snow. Selene’s glow leaves faint trails of light in her wake, while Silas’s silver eyes glint with mischief. They’re children, but they’re also so much more. “They’re growing up too fast,” I murmur, watching them from the porch. Ryland steps beside me, his arm brushing mine. “They’re strong. They’ll handle whatever comes their way.” “They shouldn’t have to,” I say, my voice tight. He sighs, his breath fogging in the cold air. “I know. But they’re not just our children, Zara. They’re the pack’s future. And they’re already proving they’re ready for it
**Zara’s POV** The elders’ fortress looms like a skeletal hand clawing at the sky, its black stone walls slick with frost. The air is thin here, each breath sharp as a blade, but the pack presses on. Behind me, warriors from Bloodfang and Shadow territories move in unison, their growls a low, thunderous hymn. Silas and Selene walk at my side, their hands clasped in mine. “Stay close,” I murmur, though I know they won’t. They never do. Selene’s glow pulses faintly, her eyes wide but unflinching. “They’re waiting for us,” she whispers. Silas tightens his grip on my hand. “Let them wait.” Ryland strides ahead, his black fur bristling as he shifts to human form at the base of the fortress. “This ends today,” he says, his voice carrying over the wind. “For our pack. For our future.” The howls that answer shake the earth. ---**Ryland’s POV** The elders’ magic stings the air, a poison that makes my wolf snarl. They stand atop the fortress, cloaked in shadows, their chants we
**Zara’s POV** The northern mountains loom in the distance, their jagged peaks cutting into the sky like broken teeth. The air is colder here, sharper, and the scent of pine and snow does little to mask the underlying tension in the pack. We’ve been traveling for days, following Kael’s lead, and every step feels heavier than the last. The twins walk beside me, their small hands clutching mine. Selene hums softly, her glow flickering like a candle in the wind, while Silas scans the horizon with a seriousness far beyond his years. “Mommy,” Selene whispers, tugging at my sleeve. “Do you think the bad men will come tonight?” I force a smile, brushing a curl from her face. “Not if we can help it, sweetheart.” Silas frowns. “But what if they do? What if we’re not ready?” I kneel, pulling them both into a hug. “You’re stronger than you know. Both of you. And we’ll face whatever comes together.” Ryland approaches, his expression grim. “We’ve set up camp ahead. Kael’s scouts have
**Zara’s POV** The morning after the battle, the camp is eerily quiet. The air smells of damp earth and healing herbs, and the wounded wolves rest under the watchful eyes of the healers. Selene sits cross-legged in the center of the clearing, her tiny hands glowing as she mends a warrior’s broken ribs. Silas stands beside her, his arms crossed, his silver eyes scanning the crowd like a miniature Alpha. I watch them from the edge of the clearing, my chest tight with pride and fear. They’re so small, so fragile, and yet they’ve already done more for this pack than I ever could. “They’re remarkable,” Ryland says, appearing beside me. I don’t look at him. “They’re children.” “They’re more than that,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re the future of this pack. And they’re stronger than we give them credit for.” I turn to face him, my anger flaring. “They’re *five*, Ryland. They shouldn’t have to be strong. They shouldn’t have to fight.” He meets my gaze, his gray eyes steady.
**Zara’s POV** The camp erupts into chaos. Wolves snatch weapons, children are herded into the center of the clearing, and the air thickens with the sour tang of fear. Ryland barks orders, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade, but all I hear is the roar of my own pulse. *The rogues are coming. The twins aren’t safe.* I grab Silas and Selene by their wrists, dragging them toward the healer’s tent. “Stay here,” I command, shoving them inside. “Do *not* move.” Silas crosses his arms. “We can fight!” “You’re five years old,” I snap. “Five and a *half*,” Selene corrects, her glow flickering defiantly. “Stay. Put.” I slam the tent flap closed, tying it with a shaking hand. Ryland appears beside me, his face bloodless. “The rogues are closing in. They’ve got wolfsbane arrows.” My stomach plummets. Wolfsbane meant for *children*. For *my* children. “Get them out of here,” I say, my voice cracking. “Take them and run.” He grips my shoulders. “They’ll hunt us. The
Zara’s POVThe scent of ash and iron lingers in the air, a grim reminder of the battle that rewrote our fate. Bloodfang and Shadow wolves move through the clearing like ghosts, their eyes darting to the twins huddled near the fire. Silas pokes at the flames with a stick, his brow furrowed, while Selene hums softly, braiding moonflowers into her hair. Innocence and power, coiled together. Ryland stands at the edge of the clearing, speaking with Kieran and a scarred Shadow wolf I recognize as Jarek—Zane’s former second. My stomach twists. *We’re supposed to trust them now?* “They’re staring again,” Silas mutters, glaring at a group of Bloodfang warriors. “Let them stare,” I say, adjusting the bandage on his scraped knee. “They’re just curious.” “No, they’re *scared*,” he corrects, his voice too sharp for a child’s. “They think we’re monsters.” Selene’s humming stops. “Like the bad men?” “No, sweetheart,” I lie, sweeping her into my lap. “They’re… surprised. That’s all.” Ry
Zara’s POVThe forest explodes in a cacophony of snarls. Shadows burst from the trees—wolves with teeth bared and eyes glowing like embers. My grip tightens on the silver dagger, its hilt biting into my palm. Ryland shifts beside me, his wolf form towering and lethal, but I don’t look at him. I can’t. If I do, I might forget how to hate him. “Stay behind me,” he growls, fur bristling. “I don’t need your orders,” I snap, but the words die as a wolf lunges at us. Ryland intercepts it midair, jaws clamping around its throat. Blood sprays the grass, metallic and sharp. Another wolf darts toward the cottage, and my heart stops. *The twins.* “Silas! Selene!” I scream, sprinting past the fray. The door swings open before I reach it. Silas stands in the doorway, his small frame rigid, eyes blazing an unnatural silver. Behind him, Selene clutches her stuffed wolf, her curls glowing faintly under the moonlight. “Mommy, the bad men are here,” she whispers. “Get back inside—” A snarl