Spencer’s POVThe battlefield is erupting into chaos all around me, but right now, all I can think about is how beautiful Ivy is. Thanks to the Moon Goddess’s blessing, she seems to be glowing now. There’s a light in her eyes, a fire that’s been ignited deep in her soul. I can sense the strength radiating through her. All her glory, all her grace, all her willingness to fight…I know what Ivy is capable of now, and I’m never going to underestimate her again. “How do we want to do this?” Ivy asks. Her gaze continues to dart around the battlefield frantically, and I can tell that she’s sizing everything up, trying to figure out the best way for our forces to win. I feel an odd sensation of pride, knowing that Ivy is now able to navigate this scene with tact and poise. I trust her instincts. I purse my lips, watching yet another one of my Lycan warriors get picked out by the group of potion-enhanced werewolf rebels. He puts up a fierce fight, but it’s too many opponents for him to fe
Spencer’s POVAs I rise to my feet, I can feel the full effects of the Moon Goddess’s blessing, and I feel much better than I’ve felt in a long time. It’s odd–ever since this whole fiasco with Elder Jet began, I’ve felt myself constantly on edge. There's been a strange underlying tension to my life. Everything I’ve done in my mad scramble to protect Ivy, every bad decision, every misguided sacrifice I’ve done… All my actions, whether they were right or now, were the result of trying to dodge invisible looming threats. The threat isn’t invisible anymore, though–now, it’s everywhere I look. But there’s a sense of relief to that. I can tell that Elder Jet is finally giving his all now. He’s played every last card he has left to play. And as scary as that may be, considering the magnitude of the threat I’m up against now, I can also feel my resolve building. This is it. The end of the line. The final surge. If we can defeat Elder Jet now, we’ll never have to deal with him or any of h
Ivy’s POVThe moment Spencer gets tossed back into the throes of battle, I know the final wave of combat has begun. I don’t waste a moment before shifting into my wolf form. I can feel the familiar surge of power rushing through my body. Every flex of my muscles, every arch and twist of my graceful limbs seems to be crackling with barely-restrained strength. My fur is as white as pure snow right now, but I know it’s only a matter of time before it becomes stained pomegranate red. My razor-sharp fangs, sharp as knives, are bared menacingly as I look around expectantly and grin. “None of you could kill me!” I shout, muzzle turned upwards towards the sky. I let out a victorious howl. “No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop me!” I pad back and forth, feeling the clots of dirt beneath my paws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can spot the wrought-iron cage that was used to hold me. I lunge towards it, a growl rumbling in the base of my throat, and twist its metal bars until the cage i
Ivy’s POVThe sensation of Elder Jet’s skin tearing beneath my claws is one of the best things I’ve felt in a long, long time. Elder Jet lets out a sharp cry of pain as my claws rip into him. I can feel hot splashes of blood splattering up onto me, and I only curl my talons deeper. Elder Jet’s cry bleeds into a shout as I rip my paw back, tearing a ragged hunk of flesh out of his shoulder. “You,” Elder Jet snarls, looking up at me with an expression of profound loathing as he curls his lip at me and takes a step back. “Me,” I repeat with a smug grin, shaking the bits of viscera out of my claws. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly doing her best to limp away. Elder Jet doesn’t pay her any mind, though. His gaze is focused on me like a laser, and I can tell I’m his only focus right now. “You should be dead right now,” Elder Jet stammers out. His speech is already starting to slur from the blood loss. “After that potion we gave you, after the injuries, after–I killed
Spencer’s POVWhen I see Elder Jet pinned beneath Ivy’s strong hold, the first thing I feel is pride. Over the course of knowing her, I’ve seen Ivy reclaim her own strength and power against all odds. When no one else believed in her, she believed in herself, and she’s been able to accomplish amazing things because of it. The sight of her now, able to so easily control such a powerful and influential man despite having been teetering on the verge of death so long ago… I’m so proud of her. I stalk towards Ivy and Elder Jet with a bold grin. “Thank you for taking care of him, Ivy,” I say. “Would you like me to handle things from here?” “It would be my pleasure,” Ivy replies. She strikes him across the face–just once, swiftly and harshly enough to open up a rather sizeable welt on his upper right cheek. As Elder Jet is still reeling from the blow, Ivy releases her hold on him and allows me to take her place. Before Elder Jet can even register the switch, I’ve got him firmly in my gr
Spencer’s POVThe skin of Elder Jet’s throat splits like silk beneath my claws. The last sound he ever makes is a small gasp, as though even after everything he’s said about accepting his fate, he’s still somehow surprised that I’d actually do it. For just a few moments, blood gushes liberally from the ragged wound in his throat–his weak heart pumping out blood with its last bits of strength. But as soon as his heart gives out, the blood flow stops its torrent. I raise my gaze back up to Elder Jet’s face. I want to feel something as I look over him–the wounds marring his features, his matted, stained fur, the glassy lifelessness in his eyes–but I don’t feel a thing. I pull away from Elder Jet slowly, staring at his corpse splayed out on the grass. This is the man who tried to kill me. Who tried to kill Ivy. Who succeeded in killing my father. He’s twisted and manipulated the minds of countless young werewolves, many of whom are no doubt dead thanks to him. Every action in his miser
Ivy’s POVAs I scan the battlefield impatiently, doing my best to figure out where I could be the most helpful, all I can see is need. Spencer’s announcement on how to best take down the rebel werewolves has certainly been incredibly beneficial to the Lycan warriors. As I watch the battle continue to play out, the warriors are now employing tactics more or less reliant on grace or dexterity to make sure they can have the upper hand as much as possible. And while it’s encouraging to see the warriors continuing to make the best of the situation they’re in, adapting to the difficulties of such ruthless and magically enhanced opponents, there’s still so much death here. The Lycan warriors are getting more and more exhausted with each second that passes, and one side effect of those blasted potions seems to be enhanced stamina. Despite all our efforts to make sure the warriors have as much support as possible to do what they need to do and conclude this battle once and for all, we’re sti
Spencer’s POVIvy and I exchange a single look, and it’s like we can read each other’s minds. Without even having to speak the words aloud, we turn away from Elder Jet’s corpse in unison and rush towards the ongoing scuffle. After having spent so long stuck on this battlefield together, and thanks to the months we’ve spent learning more and more about one another, strengthening our bonds, it feels like we’ve moved past typical forms of communication in so many ways. Ivy and I don’t need to tell each other our strategy–as I make my way behind the witch, and as Ivy swiftly leaps in front of her, I know what she’s trying to do. Ivy throws her body between the witch and Wilson. “Stay back!” She snarls, teeth snapping wickedly. Her snow white fur is streaked with blood, like berries crushed underfoot on a cold winter day. “Elder Jet is dead now. His cause is ruined. There’s nothing for you here.” “Foolish girl,” the witch rasps, extending her free hand and pointing one long finger towar
Spencer’s POVIt’s been a couple days since I returned from the Sunclash pack and Ivy began recovering from the plague, and things have finally had a chance to settle into a routine. Beta Wilson and Doctor Danbury have been working restlessly to distribute the antidote to those in need far and wide. We’ve eradicated it completely from the Lycan kingdom and have almost finished scrubbing it from the outer packs. All of Elder Jet’s rebels have been placed in our custody, with trials pending. Based on the reports from other packs as well as the newly-formed Werewolf Council, it seems as though Elder Jet’s toxic ideology has been defeated for good. We still have lots to do to repair our relationship with the werewolves, of course, but we’re in a good place to begin that work. And as soon as Ivy returns to her full strength, I’m excited for us to begin that work together. I set down the last stack of papers on my desk and push open the door to my office, wandering back into the main bo
Ivy’s POV“What is it?” Those are the last words I hear, spoken in Spencer’s soothing, familiar voice, before I slip into an uneasy half-sleep. I can feel blankets being shifted and jostled around me, the vibrations from wheels being rolled across a bumpy floor. But my mind is distant, dreaming. I see fire. Magic. Blood. Frantic voices cry out, but there’s someone else, promising that I’m stable–just exhausted. My body is lifted up from the uncomfortable mattress and laid down somewhere much more soft and padded. There, finally, as the terrible burning recedes from my skin, I’m able to fall into a quiet, restful sleep. I’m not sure how much time passes before I finally come to. As my eyes plink open slowly, blearily, the first thing I see is Spencer sitting at the edge of my bed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good morning, Sleepyhead,” he says softly. I let out a quiet chuckle. “What time is it actually?” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. Suddenly I realize that everythin
Spencer’s POVAs I push past the double doors and into the hospital’s foyer, I’m struck by the absolute chaos everywhere. There are patients being pushed and shuffled in every direction, and the entire hospital staff looks criminally overworked, worry lines and downcast expressions almost completely hidden behind thick airtight filters. I realize the yellow suits all the staff are wearing match the protective suits Doctor Danbury gave us when we were investigating the Sunclash pack. And if everyone is in plague equipment now…I can only hope we’ll have enough of the antidote to deal with all the infected. That’s an issue for later, though. Right now, my focus is solely on Ivy. “Where’s the queen?” I shout, looking around the foyer frantically. A nurse rushes over towards me hurriedly, gaze darting back and forth. “She–she’s in the quarantine wing, Your Majesty,” the nurse says. “Quite a few patients are, unfortunately. Before I can take you there, I’m going to have to ask you to
Spencer’s POVAs soon as I pass the threshold of the Lycan Kingdom, I hear a frantic message from Captain Leo echoing in my mind. ‘–and they’re here!’ Comes the call, which has surely been repeating over and over again for ages now, if I’m hearing it as soon as I’m able. Captain Leo’s voice is frantic and desperate. ‘Please, Your Majesty, we have to get this under control. We need you here.’ I grit my teeth and keep my gaze peeled on the road ahead. We’re on our way to the palace now, to deliver the antidote to Ivy and whoever else may need it, but we’re still a matter of minutes away at least. ‘We’re in the kingdom now,’ I assure him. ‘Who’s here?’‘The rest of Elder Jet’s rebels, Your Majesty. It seems they were waiting for you to leave.’ I scowl in displeasure as I watch the scenery continue to blur around us. Of course that was the witch’s final plan, coward that she was. To poison my wife and lure me out to the middle of nowhere knowing how desperate I’d be to cure her… It’s
Ivy’s POVAs I lay in the quarantine room, I can feel the growing sickness continuing to spread through my body. Alongside all the typical postpartum symptoms, which would be horrendous enough on their own, the burning is horrible in its unrelentingness. The pain meds feel more like an empty consolation than anything else now. I’m more fatigued than I’ve ever felt before, but I can’t bring myself to fall asleep, because the agony simmering just beneath my skin is impossible to ignore. Am I being punished for something? ‘What am I going to do?’ I ask Venetia hopelessly. There’s no one else to talk to but her. ‘You’ll pull through,’ Venetia assures me, though I can hear the reluctance in her tone. ‘You heard the rumours–Spencer is out there right now, searching desperately for a cure! He loves you. He’s not going to let you die. You matter too much to him.’ I chuckle bitterly. ‘At a certain point, it doesn’t matter how much he doesn’t want me to die. I’ll die or I won’t.’ Venetia
Spencer’s POVAs my claws tear through the ice-cold flesh of the witch’s body, a bloodcurdling scream suddenly pierces the air. With a fierce cry, the witch tries to wrench herself from my grasp, but she only succeeds in dragging her body along my claws, worsening her own injuries. Blood splatters on the ground and onto my paws. It doesn’t feel like blood normally does, though–it’s cold like freshwater and feels oddly slick, almost oily. I pull my lips back over my teeth and growl viciously, searching for the witch’s neck in this darkness. “You beast!” The witch wails like a banshee. I can see her eyes glinting reflectively like a cat’s in the darkness. As we hit the ground, one of her antlers breaks and falls off. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am? You don’t have the faintest whisper of a chance against me, you brute–” I curl my claws inward, deepening the wounds further, and the witch lets out another ragged scream. Suddenly, the darkness in the room all seems to slither t
Spencer’s POV“Run!” My warning to Alpha Fierro echoes through the darkened office seemingly unheard. As the shadows continue to creep around my field of vision, obscuring everything from view, my heart thuds in my chest. Never before had I been scared of an enemy until encountering the witch. I shift fluidly into my wolf form, powerful arms and legs rippling with muscles, fangs and teeth sharp as daggers. My growl is a low, warning rumble in the base of my throat. Despite my heightened sentences as I continue to peer ahead, ears trained to detect the slightest sense of movement, I still have no idea where the witch is. “Reveal yourself, coward!” I shout, my voice echoing through the room. “You betray your honour by slinking around in the shadows.” The witch’s laugh, low and melodious, fills the air. There’s a haunting coldness to it. “Honour is a werewolf construct,” she says. “And it’s so unlike a proud, foolish warrior to consider it a cowardly action to win a battle with intel
Ivy’s POVThe longer I stay in the hospital bed, the more I can feel myself beginning to crumble. The pain is ceaseless in its intensity, great waves of agony that crash over me without letting up for even a second. I can’t scream, can’t cry, can’t move. I’ve given up on trying to call in any of the nurses when the flareups get too bad–all they’ll do is look at me sadly, scared of doing anything to make me worse, scared of simply standing by and watching the queen die. There’s an IV flowing an endless stream of pain medication into my veins, which is helping somewhat, but it’s not enough. All I can do is feel this. Until it kills me, I suppose. I have no idea where Spencer is–after he rushed out of my room unexpectedly like that, he never came back. I’ve heard some whispers floating around the hospital about a great escapade, about the looming creep of a plague sweeping through the kingdom. If it really is a plague, I hope more than anything that Tala didn’t catch it from me. If
Spencer’s POV“Alpha Fierro, I need you to focus up.” The words are harsh as they leave my mouth, but I’m not trying to be malicious, although it’s true that things desperately need to get moving. The longer I spend in the Sunclash pack, the more on edge I feel. Every wall in sight feels like it’s closing in on me, and I can feel the sickness permeating the air. There’s a heaviness to this place now, an endless sense of dread. I have a feeling that this ground will carry the weight of all its deaths for a long, long time. “Scour the office for anything that seems out of place,” I say. “If your Beta was in charge of the pack in your absence, it’s likely that he was the one putting any preventative measures into place. He may have tried to find a cure–hopefully there are signs somewhere around here.” I look down at the man’s corpse, the papers clutched in his fist and the expression of profound horror on his face. “I read his reports. He seems to have been a confident, driven man. I’