The world wasn’t standing still, but I was.Maxwell had not released me, his grip firm, steady, as if he were afraid I might vanish again. The sanctuary walls, though still pounding with the echoes of the power I had unleashed, cocoons of bone and muscle and bone, loomed in my periphery, my mind somewhere else, stuck between darkness and light, between what I had seen and what had yet to pass.I had chosen power.Now, I had to live with it.Maxwell’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Lena… you’re scaring me.”I met his gaze, and for the first time in ages, I wasn’t afraid of what he might see. “Good.”His brows knitted together; concern and another, too-complex-to-read emotion danced across his face. “You’re different.”I took a deep breath, pressing my palm to my chest. I was steady of heartbeat, but everything else inside me turned and roiled. “I feel different.”“Different how?”I hesitated. How could I describe the feeling of standing at the brink of an abyss, looking down into it,
Their breath was warm, feeding the air with blood and magic. Behind us was the sanctuary, an ancient monument to the power I was only beginning to comprehend. But the evening was charged with danger — David’s pack was close. I could sense them, their presence nagging at the back of my mind, their hunger curling in the air.Maxwell stood next to me, his body stiff, his breathing calm. He was ready for battle. We both were.My father stepped out from the shadows, his face stone. “They’ll be here soon.”I nodded, flexing my fingers. Power throbbed inside my skin, but it was no longer magic—it was something deeper, something primal. I had been spending my life repressing what I was. That was over.Maxwell exhaled slowly. “Lena, before this starts—”I looked back at him, hearing the hesitance in his voice. “What?”His jaw tensed. “You don’t need to do this by yourself.”I shook my head. “I do. You know I do.”“You think this is only about power?” His voice was sharp, but there was more—a t
The battle was over.David was gone. That sanctuary became a battlefield, just as it should have been a sanctuary, and instead, it lay silent beneath the weight of all we had lost. The war — the one that had shaped my life, the one that had molded me — was over.And yet, I felt no peace.I was on the balcony of my childhood house, looking out at the city that used to be my world. The skyline loomed ahead of me, twinkling lights blinking in the distance, cars moving like veins pumping life into the streets. To them, nothing had changed. They had no knowledge of the war waged in the shadows, the lives lost, the blood spilled.”They didn’t know me.The wind was pulling my hair, and it was cold against my skin, but I hardly felt it. My hands lay on my stomach — a habit, now, an unconscious need to shield the life inside me. My child. The sole piece of this ground that really mattered now.The door behind me creaked open, and I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Maxwell. His presenc
The silence hung between us, thick and stifling. Elias waited patiently as if he already knew how I would respond. As if he thought I should fall in line, that I would embrace the mantle of power the Council had so graciously put at my feet.But I wasn’t the girl they imagined. Not anymore.I crossed my arms and kept my face neutral. “You want me to lead? Lead what, exactly?”Elias smiled, but there was a calculating look in his eyes. “A new order, Miss Weber. The world is changing. Supernatural forces are growing bolder, more reckless. With the Blackwoods now gone, there is a vacuum. The Council believes that you hold the balance.”Maxwell scoffed beside me. “Balance? You mean control.”Elias fixed his piercing stare on him. “Control is balance. Would you prefer chaos?”My fingers dug into my arms. “Why me? You have your own enforcers. You have your rules and your traditions. Why come to me now?”Elias’s smile finally disappeared, and when he spoke again, his voice was smooth yet fir
The heaviness of my decision crushed my chest even after the words were out of my mouth. Maxwell’s hand was still in my hand, warm, steady, grounding. But his grip was my tension, his words unspoken.He exhaled slowly. “So, what now?”I turned to face him completely, looking in his eyes for the slightest hint of hesitation, of doubt. But there was none. Only quiet resolve.“Now,” I said, my voice steady even as inside I was swirling with chaos, “we go to them.”Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “Lena—”“I know what you’re going to say,” I interrupted, squeezing his fingers. “But you need to trust me.”His expression darkened. “That’s not the problem. The problem is them. The Council does not give power without receiving something in return.”I swallowed hard. “I’m aware.”“I was like, ‘Then what are we doing here?’ He retracted his hand and desperately ran his fingers through his hair. “You know how they operate. They do not see you as a human being but as a weapon. “They don’t want to follow
I heard my heart pounding inside my ears as I sat in the sterile, icy room, the walls closing in around me. Every breath I took felt heavier than the last, and my chest constricted under the weight of what I’d just consented to. The Council had witnessed my determination, and now was the time for no turning back.Maxwell had been unusually quiet since leaving their headquarters, lost in thoughts far away, no doubt fighting his internal battle between wanting to support me and the gut-curling fear of what we were about to encounter.I watched him from the corner of my eye while we sat in my family’s estate, the quiet between us heavy. The soft crackle of the fireplace was the only noise in the room, yet it did nothing to soothe the tempest within me.“You’re not saying anything,” I said, my voice breaking the tension.Maxwell didn’t look at me. Instead, he gazed into the flames, his face carved in sharp, unyielding shadows.“I don’t gotta say anything, Lena. He sounded flat, lacking em
The city had a different look at night. Shadows stretched longer, corners felt more pronounced, and the world itself was holding its breath, waiting. Maxwell seemed to be on standby next to me as I walked the deserted streets. Neither of us had spoken since the meeting with the Council, but the silence that lay between us wasn’t comfortable; it was crackling, laden with everything we weren’t saying.Finally, Maxwell broke it.“You’re making a mistake.”I didn’t stop walking. “That’s what you think.”“That’s what I know.” The edge in his voice came from the frustration he was barely able to contain. “You’re letting them drag you into something you don’t understand, Lena.”I turned to him, my jaw tense. “And what am I supposed to do, Max? Ignore it? Walk away? “Pretend that all of this doesn’t exist?”His fists closed, fists at his sides. “You don’t have to be them to fight them.”“I’m not becoming them.”“Then why does it seem like I’m losing you?The words landed harder than I thought
And yet, the file was heavy in my hands, even being nothing but paper. My fingers hovered above the photograph of Jameson Calloway, the weight of my choice sitting on my chest like a rock.“You’re hesitating.” Elias’ voice was smooth but had an undercoating of sharpness to it. He knew what he was doing, exactly.I raised my eyes to his and maintained an impassive expression. “I didn’t know the Council killed its own.”Elias brought his hands together on the table, tilting his head some. “Jameson is not one of our own anymore. He betrayed us.”I choked on my own bitterness rising in my throat. “How?”Silence stretched between us. Elias didn’t respond immediately, and that told me all I needed to know. This had nothing to do with Jameson being a threat. This was about control. About me.“You want me to do this without knowing the whole story?” I asked, my voice steady.Elias offered a smile, but it was a cold one. “I expect you to trust us.”Maxwell scoffed beside me. “That’s not how tr
The words that hung in the air settled heavily. I looked at Lior, and then at the others in the tent. They were all waiting, no longer with mere curiosity but with the weight of their expectations. What would I do now? Would I continue to walk this fragile line alone, or would I listen?I exhaled sharply, feeling a mix of frustration and understanding in equal measure. He was right in some ways, but the urgency of the hour didn’t leave room for hesitation or second-guessing. Yet, this wasn’t just about me anymore. This was about all of us. About the future we were building—together, or not at all.“I never intended to be the only one making decisions,” I said, my voice more controlled now. “The sanctity of this place was never meant to be mine alone.”Lior raised an eyebrow. “Then why are we here? Why are we sitting here while you lay the foundation with the very hands that will one day destroy it?”“Because I was trying to protect us all,” I responded, my eyes flicking to the others
The word LIAR still smoldered on the earth.Not from magic, but from intention. The burn was too crude, too human. There was no sigil or mystical flair to hide behind. No illusion. Just a raw accusation, left like a scar on sacred ground.Someone hadn’t just defaced the stone—they’d made a statement. And they’d made it here, at the heart of everything we were trying to build.I stood over it for a long time. Too long. I could feel the others watching me—Barin, Maxwell, Elara, even some of the apprentices who had come to help reinforce the foundation wards. They waited for a command, a reaction, anything to show them what I would do now.I didn’t give it to them.Not yet.Because inside me, there was a storm I couldn't afford to unleash—not until I knew where the crack had started.Maxwell stepped closer, voice low. “You think it’s someone inside?”I didn’t look at him. “If it were an outsider, the outer wards would have flared.”He swore under his breath. “Then we’ve been infiltrated.
“You called me reckless,” I continued. “You sent dreams and threats and doppelgängers to test my integrity. And I passed. Not by your standards—but by surviving, intact, through the kind of grief most of you would’ve buried. I faced my worst self and didn’t break.”A pause.“Can any of you say the same?”Silence.Then Elias spoke again, quieter. “And what do you propose, then? A Council of one?”“No,” I said. “A new covenant. Shared authority. A seat at the table for those you’ve excluded. A place where power isn’t feared—but shaped, taught, and trusted.”He didn’t move. “You’re asking us to rewrite centuries.”“I’m telling you,” I said, “they’re already rewriting themselves. You can participate—or you can be left behind.”The room held its breath.Then Elias smiled.It was small. But real.“You’ve grown,” he said. “Far more than we expected.”“I’m just getting started.”The chamber stayed silent for a moment after I spoke those words, but it wasn’t the silence of resistance—it was th
We didn’t wait for permission.By the next morning, the word was already spreading—not as a rumor, but as a declaration. The sanctuary would rise.No more retreating. No more hiding our power behind broken seals and inherited shame. We would build a space tethered to the ley lines, reinforced with intention, rooted in the truth of who we were becoming. And more than that, anyone with power, hunted or not, would be welcome. Not just Guardians. Not just wolves.Everyone.The response was immediate.Some sent their support—ancient names I barely recognized, offering blood, stone, and spell to help raise the walls. Others sent silence. The kind that carried the weight of a thousand threats.But it was the Council that answered first.I had barely finished marking the boundary runes when a crow landed on the stone in front of me. No scroll, no flare of magic. Just a voice—projected, cold and clear—from the bird’s beak."Lena Weber. The Council calls you to stand before the Elders within th
The circle dimmed. The night resumed its breath.Maxwell appeared at the edge of the trees, his eyes wild with concern. He didn’t speak. Just waited.“I’m okay,” I said, voice hoarse.He walked up to me slowly. “You don’t look okay.”“No,” I said, leaning into his chest. “But I know what I’m doing now.”He held me for a long moment. Then asked, “And what’s that?”I looked toward the stars, toward the seal humming faintly in my chest.“I’m going to stop surviving,” I said. “And start building.”Maxwell didn't speak right away. He studied me like he was seeing something different—something unfamiliar but necessary. The kind of change you don't celebrate with cheers, but with silence, because you know it’s real.“Building what?” he asked finally.I let the question hang in the air for a moment. “Something that doesn’t depend on fear. On reaction. On waiting for the next attack. Something rooted in intention. In choice. We keep surviving crisis after crisis, and we forget to imagine what
She stood there—older, wiser, with a weight in her gaze that I hadn’t yet earned but could already feel settling in my bones. She didn’t move like someone who wanted to be revered. She moved like someone who had been forged—bent, shaped, nearly broken—and survived because no one else knew how to carry what she carried.The silence between us stretched longer than it should have, but she didn’t rush me. That was something else I recognized in her—patience. Not passive, but deliberate. A discipline I hadn’t yet mastered.“I didn’t think I’d ever meet you,” I finally said.She gave a small smile. “You don’t. Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not a memory or a ghost. I’m not even truly real. Just an echo from one potential. One of millions.”“And yet,” I said, stepping toward her, “you’re here.”“Because the seal responded,” she said. “It recognized your convergence. The self that faced grief, the self that faced guilt, the self that faced truth. And now it offers a glimpse of what’s wa
The nights had been still lately—too still. Even after the encounter with my doppelgänger, even after the fire and the whispered threats in ash, the silence that followed felt wrong. It wasn’t peace. It was the pause before an avalanche, the long breath held before a scream.And then the seal pulsed.Not like before—not a flare of warning or fear. This was different. It was deep, rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat. It throbbed through my chest, echoed in my bones, and I knew—whatever had awakened within me during the merge with my other self, it had reached the other side.Something had seen it.Something had responded.The pulse spread through the ley lines like a ripple, invisible to most, but I could feel its journey. It traveled through roots and rock, through the thin air above mountaintops, through the marrow of the oldest bones buried beneath our feet. And everywhere it went, it left doors ajar.By morning, the world had changed.The first signs came quietly—messages from nearby
I stood alone in the center of the circle we had carved days ago, the ley lines still raw from recent shifts. The ash from the eastern watchtower had long since scattered into the wind, but its message still pulsed behind my eyes. You will break. Or you will become.Tonight, I wasn’t going to run from that. Tonight, I would invite it in.I had told the others to stay back—something I knew Maxwell hated. He’d argued for hours. Not with words, but with silence, pacing, the set of his jaw, the way he stood near the doorway like he could stop a god with his bare hands if it came to that. But in the end, he let me go. Because he knew I had to.The fire crackled low. The ley stones hummed beneath my bare feet.And I called her.Not with words. With intent. With the shape of my memories, my regrets, the pieces of myself I had never forgiven.She came like a ripple. A subtle distortion in the air, like heat rising off pavement. Then she was there. Not a projection. Not a monster.Just… me.“I
We stood in the wake of that light, hearts pounding, silence clinging to the air like fog. The figure that had worn my face—my perfect mirror—was gone, but its presence lingered. Not just as memory. Not just as a threat. As residue. The ley lines around us had twisted, not fractured but reformed. Like the very pattern of reality had shifted to accommodate that presence.No one spoke for a while. Even Maxwell, always the first to break tense silences, had nothing. Maybe because there were no words big enough to contain what we’d seen.Finally, Nima said quietly, “It didn’t disappear. It just… stepped back.”I looked at her, not answering. Because she was right. That version of me hadn’t been defeated or banished. It had retreated. Like it had learned something. Like it was waiting.Barin exhaled hard, pacing. “That thing—— whatever it was—— it wasn’t just a projection. It carried intention. It believed what it said.”“And it felt,” Maxwell added, his voice low and rough. “That’s what s