The air was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of scorched earth and blood. Around the smoldering crater in the courtyard, the warriors of Blackmoon Hold stood in stunned silence. No one dared move. No one dared breathe.
Aiden knelt at the edge of the impact zone, his eyes fixed on Elara.
She stood now.
Her posture—rigid, regal, unrecognizable.
Her hair floated as if underwater, her eyes glowing silver bright, and her voice—when it came—did not belong to the girl he'd grown to protect.
"I am Selene's Will," she said, her voice echoing with ancient power. "And you dare threaten the last light?"
The woman in black, now partially burned, stumbled back in disbelief. "This isn't possible... you were supposed to be bound... silenced..."
Elara's glowing eyes narrowed. "The seal is broken. You will not touch her again."
It hit Aiden like a punch to the gut.
This wasn't Elara.
This was something inside her.
Something ancient.
Something divine.
He stood slowly, chest heaving, instincts screaming at him to tread carefully.
"Elara?" he said softly.
The glowing figure turned to him—and for a moment, the power faltered. Her silver gaze flickered, and her lips trembled.
"Aiden... I can't hold her... back..."
Then her body arched violently, and she let out a cry not of pain—but fury. A pulse of magic burst from her chest, throwing everyone within a thirty-foot radius back.
Even Aiden.
The woman in black turned and vanished in a blur of smoke and shadow. Her mission had failed, and she knew better than to press her luck when Selene's divine essence had awakened.
But her voice lingered in the air, disembodied and cold.
"This is far from over, Oracle. Your power belongs to us."
When Elara collapsed, the silver glow gone, Aiden rushed to her.
This time, there was no divine voice. Just shallow breaths, fluttering lashes, and a faint murmur.
"I saw her... my mother..."
Aiden gathered her in his arms, shielding her from the growing crowd.
"She's safe now," he said, though the words tasted like a lie. "You're safe."
But deep inside, he knew—
The war had just begun.
Later that night, inside the High Alpha's private quarters, Aiden stood before the hearth, watching the flames dance, their crackle oddly soothing.
Cade entered quietly, his arm bandaged, his expression tense.
"Fifteen dead. Dozens wounded. The wards are shattered."
Aiden nodded without looking away from the fire. "And Elara?"
"Sleeping. The healers say her vitals are stable... but her aura? It's still volatile. It's like she's holding back a sea of power behind a paper dam."
Aiden turned slowly. "And the council?"
"Furious," Cade replied. "Half of them want to exile her before the next moonrise."
Aiden's jaw clenched. "And the other half?"
"They're terrified of her... but curious."
Aiden exhaled slowly. "We're standing at the edge of prophecy, Cade. She's not just powerful—she's pivotal. And I don't think we've seen even a fraction of what she can do."
Cade crossed his arms. "So what now?"
"We prepare," Aiden said. "We rebuild the wards, train the warriors, and double the patrols."
"And Elara?"
Aiden looked toward the closed door that led to her chambers.
"She trains... with me."
In the days that followed, Blackmoon Hold became a fortress of whispers.
Elara's presence was a flame, and everyone was either drawn to it—or burned by it.
She remained mostly indoors, guarded at all times, her every movement watched by seers, elders, and warriors alike. Some offered quiet reverence. Others, thinly veiled contempt.
But Aiden never left her side.
Their connection deepened—not just the bond of mates, but something older. Primordial. Written in the stars.
Still, each night, Elara dreamed.
And in those dreams, she stood in a field of white flame, a woman cloaked in silver whispering words she couldn't fully understand.
"The Oath must be fulfilled."
"The Betrayer will rise again."
"You must choose between love and the moon."
When Elara told Aiden, he said nothing at first. But his expression darkened.
"The Betrayer was a myth," he finally said. "A story the Elders told pups to keep them obedient."
"Then why does the voice keep warning me about him?" Elara asked.
Aiden hesitated.
"Because myths usually start with truth."
Elara's training began at dawn.
At first, it was about discipline—breathing, meditation, focus. Then came control—summoning her power without shattering objects or blacking out.
She failed.
A lot.
Once, she accidentally exploded every candle in the temple's west wing. Another time, she shattered a solid stone bench by sneezing mid-chant.
But Aiden never left her side.
He taught her the way he taught his warriors—with patience and brutal honesty.
"You're not broken," he told her after one particularly frustrating session. "You're becoming. That's always messy."
"But what if I become something I don't want to be?" she asked one evening, breathless and sweaty from a sparring round.
Aiden studied her, then stepped forward and gently placed a hand over her heart.
"Then I'll be here... to remind you who you are."
Days turned to a week.
Then two.
And though the Hold had been quiet, Aiden could feel the tension building.
Every scout report brought darker news—crops blackened overnight, wild animals going missing, strange sigils appearing near villages. Something unnatural was moving across the land.
Then came the report from the southern outpost.
Cade delivered it with a grim expression.
"We found the remains of Greyfang Pack."
Aiden stiffened. "All of them?"
"Slaughtered. No survivors. The wardstone was melted from the inside."
Elara, listening from behind the doorway, stepped forward. "This is them. The Crimson Order."
Cade looked at her with something between fear and respect. "We found this near their alpha's body."
He handed her a strip of cloth—dyed crimson, with a black serpent etched into the fabric.
Elara's face paled.
"I've seen this before... in my visions."
That night, the moon hung low and red over Blackmoon Hold.
Elara stood alone on the balcony, staring out at the forests beyond. The wind whispered secrets she couldn't quite hear.
Aiden joined her in silence.
"They're going to come again," she said.
"I know."
"And next time... I don't think I'll be able to stop her."
Aiden looked at her.
"Her?"
"The voice inside me. Selene's essence. It's like she's waiting for something. And each time I use my power... I feel her gaining strength."
"You're not a vessel," Aiden said fiercely. "You're not a weapon. You're you."
She turned to him, eyes shining with worry. "But what if being me is what causes all this?"
Aiden stepped closer.
"Then we'll face it together."
She blinked back the rising tears. "Promise?"
He cupped her face gently.
"I swear it."
And just before their lips could meet—
A flare of light streaked across the sky.
It wasn't a star.
It was a message.
A warning.
The moon pulsed—and every wolf in the Hold howled in sudden, involuntary fear.
A symbol appeared in the sky, glowing blood-red.
The serpent sigil.
The mark of the Betrayer.