*Maddy*Isla told me to stay here. I should, I definitely should. Do I really want to see Isaac get killed, or allow himself to get killed because he thinks it’ll save his people? We never had a chance to figure this out together. One moment we were married, the next he was gone, and I had to untangle the matted threads of this mess myself. Hell, Ella knew a whole lot and never said a thing. I’m kind of mad at her. I don’t understand why she’d hide this from me. Me! The person who married her glowing, winged beast of a brother. Did she think he didn’t tell me about what he could do, what he was? I huff a breath as I crouch in the grass. I can’t see anything from down here, but I can hear the sounds of battle not far from where Isla told me to stay put. I bend a piece of grass, weaving it through my fingers as I debate my next move. Stay, and hide like a coward, keeping my fingers crossed that my mate, my husband, comes out of this alive, or go and see to that myself?I’m a part of
*Isaac*Whatever dreamlike state I’ve been suspended in lifts, replaced by soft, golden light. I open sore eyes and blink away the blurriness, that dreamscape replaced by the rippling, swirling mural of florals painted on the ceiling in my bedroom. My bedroom back home at the castle. I don’t move. I’m not sure if I’m actually here, or if this is another trick of my mind. The last several weeks don’t seem real at all. Not the war, not the battles, not the unrelenting darkness that swallowed my lands whole. But there is sunlight here. It warms the sheets around me and my skin. My chest is bare, and I glance down and see a ray of golden light full of dust that shimmers like silver stars. I raise a hand and turn it back and forth in the light, watching the dust swirl around my fingers in a dizzying dance. She turns in her chair by the window, her wine-red hair cascading loose down her back. She stands, those stormy, dark blue eyes wide. Her cream-colored silk robe catches the light, i
*Maddy*Several days have passed since Isaac woke up. I’m still processing it—him coming back from a coma, and the aftermath of the war. Everything seems too peaceful. The sudden shift from pre-war times when there was nothing but tension in the air to now feels too abrupt. The war ended before it began, really. A few weeks seems like nothing in the grand scheme of things. The past three months have been the hardest part about it. I basically just floated around the castle like a ghost, a shell of myself, praying to the Goddess every second I could spare to bring him back to me–to us. I rest my hands on my belly as I walk barefoot through the castle. It’s quiet here today. Ben and Emery went back to the Obsidian Temple territory several weeks ago to rebuild. Trinity and Rosie are back in Moorn with Elijah. Cassian practices daily at the training grounds on the far side of the village to learn to better move his wolf with only three legs, and Isla and Maddox tend to keep to themselv
*Maddy* I watch as Ella walks up the stairs to her studio. She stands at the door for a moment, a door that’s been locked and charmed so that anyone who touches it gets zapped by a painful, bone crushing magic. We all learned our lesson the hard way with that one and spent a good deal of time having Isla tend our wounds. I should turn away and leave her alone, but curiosity gets the best of me as I watch her close her eyes, her mouth moving but totally silent. Soft red light ripples through the woodgrain of the door before fading completely. She turns the knob and slips inside, the door closing and locking behind her. I sigh with relief. Something about knowing Ella is tucked away in her studio with her paints, brushes, and canvases sets my heart at ease. Like everything is suddenly right in the world, and I can breathe again. Even though I know that’s not the case. Not at all. I linger at the bottom of the stairs to the tower that houses her studio for a moment, though, the su
*Maddy* The ballroom is totally transformed from floor to ceiling. The finest flowers in the kingdom stand in large, marble vases resting on tables covered in light blue tableclothes. Champagne flows, poured into crystal flutes, and graceful string music fills the air, rising above the chatter. I walk through the crowd, which parts to allow me to pass. I smile and bob my head at the people who bow and curtsey to me, their cheeks going pink as I meet their eyes. The fact that Isla and I were able to put this event together in a little under a week is a miracle in itself, and all over that surrounding villages and large cities beyond, similar celebrations are taking place to honor the dead and celebrate the victory of the war. Tonight’s celebration is specificaly for Isaac, my king, and my mate. My ivory gown of silk and satin trails behind me as I walk through the ballroom, stopping to chat with the Alphas and Lunas who’ve assembled. An overlay of silver stars flows from my ste
*Ella*“Do not let go of my hand,” he says. I allow myself to look at him for the first time, to really look into those slate gray eyes of his that I now recognize with startling clarity. Once, what feels like a lifetime ago, this man asked me to dance at Isaac’s twenty-first birthday ball. I’d declined, using his question as bait to ask him his last name, so that maybe, just maybe, I could have found him again. I hadn’t been of age then to feel what I now recognize as a mate pull as his fingers curl around mine, his grip tight and demanding. Do not let go. I called him here. I used the ball to honor the heroes of this war for my own selfish reasons. I couldn’t just slip away and let my family think I’d been taken. I needed to show them I left on my own accord, even if it meant showing every Alpha and Luna in their territory my powers, and Ryatt’s. Do not let go. Do not let go of my hand. His words flow through me as my power surges with his and creates something new, something d
*Ella*The walk through the forest is short, but the sun sets behind us, and the forest is cast in a deep violet glow. A chill settles in my bones. It’s autumn here, the same as in Crescent Falls. My bare feet are coated in dead leaves by the time we crest a hill and look down at a small village tucked in a cleared area in the forest, surrounded by old growth trees and situated in a circular fashion around a tall, square building made of stone. That must be the meeting house Amanda mentioned. Its thatch roof and stone walls look like something out of a fairy tale, and so do the small stone cottages we pass as we make our way into the village proper. People stop to stare at us, at me. Amanda, however, walks with her head held high, her chin lifted as she nods at the people we pass. I suddenly get the feeling Amanda isn’t just some simple woman wandering around in the woods alone. These people give her space and bow their heads slightly to her as she leads me to the meeting house. W
*Ella*The healer is a very old, gnarled woman. She reminds me of Mystica based on the pictures Mom has scattered in her home in Maatua. The woman’s hair is bright white and wispy, and her shoulders are permenantly slumped. She barely comes up to my breasts as she hovers around Hannah, who is lying on a cot in the center of a very warm room heated by an ancient wood stove in one corner. I have to duck to walk deeper into the tight room. Bundles of herbs hang from the low ceiling. A kettle whistles on the stove as I kneel by Hannah’s bedside and take her hands in mine, finding them warm and soft. Her coloring is perfect, and she still has that smile on her face like she’s simply dreaming. “You can’t spirit through time and space all willy nilly,” the old woman croaks, her voice wobbly but calm and motherly as she pours hot water into a large, metal bowl full of herbs. “She’s split between two worlds. Here, and with her mate.”I look up at the woman, who has barely said a word to me a
MistyI flip a page in my journal, squinting at the terrible handwriting I’d scribbled down last night when I’d woken from my latest dream. I can’t comprehend what I’d been trying to say. Dark? Hurt? Silver? Those words look somewhat clear. I can’t even remember writing them down. I close the journal with a sigh and slip it back in my purse, hanging the bag over the back of my chair in the common room of my dormitory. It’s a massive building with a pitched roof, several towers, and spooky, darkened alcoves, but it’s home, and right now, I’m sure I’d be able to hear Georgia singing her heart out in the shower if the nagging, incessant voice in my head would shut up for a single, blissful second. I’ve come to the conclusion after two years of hearing what I can only describe as white noise and the occasional static screech, like I have a radio fixed inside my skull, that the voice isn’t my internal dialogue. No, that’s a separate entity in itself, and I’m constantly at odds with the u
MistyTwo white wolves in a clearing.Their bodies made of mist and aether, standing side by side.Mates. A marvel of second chances and extraordinary fate.Two white wolves turn toward the sunrise knowing what they must leave behind; what he sacrificed for those he loved and her refusal to let him go into death alone.Two white wolves stand over their earthly bodies. He, battered and still.She, going into death with eyes open, cupping her mate's face between her graceful hands, her eyes locked on his at the moment of her dying breath.Their last words had been simple. I love you.They always had.They’d promised this instance in stolen moments, in private corners, when there was nothing but the stars to light their way.I will not stay here without you.I will not leave you behind.And so, it was.Two
AvivaThe first flakes of snow fall from the sky as I watch Ryan trying to herd everyone in position. Bundled against the cold in a wool coat Freya and I worked tirelessly on for the last three weeks, I step to the side, finding myself in the center of the crowd standing in the middle of the village of Silverhide. I watch my mate and his Beta, James, nudge families together and run back and forth toward a tripod where Ryan’s camera rests, facing us, to gauge whether all one-hundred and fifty people are in view of the lens.Ryan stands behind the camera with his hands up, his hair dusted with snow. “Okay. Nobody move!”A few excited giggles whisper through the front of the crowd where the numerous children are arranged. I glance around, watching as James joins Dahlia’s side, their baby on her hip. The baby girl finally has a name. Cosette, named after a friend of Dahlia, but they call her Cossie for short. Other babies
Two months later…RyanThe Harvest Festival has been held at the festival grounds between Endova, Teshka, and Navvan for centuries. When we arrived two days ago, leaving only a few people behind in Silverhide to make sure the animals are tended to in our absence, the wide, open space had been nothing but rolling plains.Now, it’s a city of canvas tents and twinkling lights, the air spiced with smoke and the smells of meals being cooked at each fire. Songs mingle as I walk through the festival with Aviva on my arm. I’m wearing a normal outfit. Well, not normal, actually. Mom forced me into a suit and tie with the Crescent Falls royal banner and all of my metals from my years as a warrior draped over my shoulders. Aviva is wearing that white, fur-lined dress again and a pair of new sheep-skin boots Freya and Mercy made for her, but instead of freshwater clam shells and pearls decorating her hair, her curls are w
RyanAn hour earlier…I can’t scrub the image of Aviva dead in my arms out of my head. It’s been several days since the battle, since the moment I put her in my uncle's arms and turned back to the ravaged scene, not knowing whether or not she survived the journey all the way to Maatua.Three days. It was three entire days before Sydney arrived in Silverhide with news about my mate. I’d just arrived back at my territory, exhausted and in tatters, when he clapped a hand on my shoulder and used his powers to spirit us to Moonrise, then to Veiled Valley, then to Maatua. He’s not as strong as Ryatt. Jumping took a toll on us both, and when we finally arrived at my grandparents’ beach house, I collapsed before I even made it up their driveway.Everything since the battle is a blur. Navvan is just… gone. The few survivors were mostly women and children who’d left the villag
AvivaI wake with a start to bright, warm sunshine and the smell of salty air. I grope white sheets, blinking several times to clear my vision as an unfamiliar bedroom fades to life around me. Warm white walls. Pale wood finishes and sleek furniture in soft browns and creams. White curtains drift in a salty breeze coming through several open windows, and a glass door opens to a deck with a view of… a view of the ocean.I’ve never seen the ocean before. From where I lie, I can hear the waves crashing on a white sand beach. Music I don’t recognize drifts toward me, carrying two voices with it, one male, and one female.“Your parents worry about you endlessly, Misty.”“They have nothing to worry about. It’s not like I’m ten anymore, Grandpa. I can make my own way in the world now. Plus, where was their worry when they shipped me here four years ago, huh?”“You
RyanI’ve been dreaming about tying Aviva to my bed, but I’m going to make it a reality for entirely different reasons. Now, I’ll be tying her to keep her there, forever. No more hunting. No more fighting. No more killing rogues barefoot in the woods.No more putting herself in situations like this. I will do her dirty work. I will gladly do it. I roll with Hardan in his… hellhound form? Whatever the fuck he is now. I wish, Goddess, I wish I could have faced him man to man instead of beast to beast. I would have loved to see the look on his face when I ripped out his heart for even thinking for a second he had some kind of claim to my mate, even before I found her. We roll down a decline. I sink my talons into his belly, ripping hard, but I already know hellhounds aren’t that easy to kill. We crash into an oak tree. Leaves shower over us as he tries to claw free of my grasp. He’s calling out, bellowing strange, high-pitched howls. The forest floor rumbles as I sink my claws into hi
AvivaI’m having the time of my life.I zigzag through the woods in my wolf form after three rogues who’ve decided they want nothing to do with me. In fact, the rogues have stopped hunting me over the past several hours and instead are trying to get as far away from me as possible. Their prey has become their biggest predator.I did my best to lead the horde away from Endova. That was my goal–the reason I made the snap decision to leave my mate behind and race into the jaws of death itself. Now, I have the horde moving away from the tribal packlands all together, herding them back into the open plains like a shepherd, and they’re my sheep–if a shepherd killed their sheep, that is.I’ve lost count of how many there are. My red fur is completely black with their blood. I catch my reflection in another small, burbling creek as I leap, seeing only my eyes shining like polished amber against a
Ryan“She’s not here, Ryan,” Mercy hisses as I run through the village. She’s hot on my heels, grabbing my fur to try to pull me to a stop but I’m not in my right mind.It’s been five hours since I last saw Aviva. Andrew and I have been scouring the forest and plains for any sign of her, but I lost her scent, and my desperate attempts to mind-link with her have come up empty and silent.I shift into my human form the second I cross into the pack house and immediately crash into one of the tables, tripping over the bench and landing on my side with a crunch. I’ve been in my wolf form since last night. Exhaustion sings through my bones as my vision spins. I hear Andrew similarly falling to the ground with a choked groan before hurried footsteps reach the pack house. Someone throws a blanket over me with a scoff, followed by Mercy’s sharp, soprano voice ripping through the air as she starts s