Chapter 4 – The Ghost in the Hall
Elvis didn't sleep.
Even though the bed was softer than anything she'd ever felt, her mind refused to rest. The walls of the lodge felt too quiet, too strange—like they were holding their breath. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like footsteps. Every gust of wind whispered warnings she couldn't understand.
And always, the mark on her collarbone throbbed faintly, like it had a heartbeat of its own.
When dawn broke again, soft and golden through the window, she finally sat up.
She needed air.
Wrapping herself in a thick sweater she found in the wardrobe, she padded barefoot through the stone halls. The lodge was enormous, built of dark wood and stone, but warm with light and subtle magic. Wolf paintings lined the corridors. Some looked centuries old.
She passed a few pack members—some smiled politely, others watched her with wary interest. One child even bowed.
She didn't know how to feel about that.
She found her way to a balcony overlooking the training grounds. Dozens of wolves in human form were below—sparring, shifting, working as a unit. The discipline was mesmerizing.
A familiar presence approached behind her.
"I thought you'd still be resting," said Alexander.
She turned. "I can't. Too much in my head."
He nodded. "That won't stop for a while."
"Tell me more," she said. "About this place. The curse. Why it had to be me."
Alexander stepped beside her. "The Blackthorn bloodline has ruled this region for over four hundred years. My ancestors made a pact with the Moon Goddess—protection in exchange for loyalty and truth."
She snorted. "And how's that working out?"
He didn't laugh. "The curse came when the pact was broken. My father… he betrayed her. Took a mate by force. She died. And the line began to rot."
Elvis stared. "You mean he did what you did to me?"
"No," Alexander said quickly. "I bit you to save you. To claim you before the curse did. But I didn't force the bond to form. That part… the Moon chose."
Elvis looked down at the warriors below. "And if I reject it? Reject you?"
His jaw tightened. "Then the curse finishes what it started. My pack dies. I die. And so do you."
No pressure.
She exhaled sharply. "What am I even supposed to do? Smile and play Luna?"
He shook his head. "You're not just a mate. You're the White Wolf."
She turned to him. "You keep saying that. What does it mean?"
Alexander hesitated. Then finally, "Every few centuries, a wolf is born not of blood, but of light. She's not tied to any pack but connected to all. She carries healing. Clarity. The power to cleanse a cursed bloodline."
Elvis blinked. "You think I'm that?"
He reached out, touched the crescent mark glowing under her collarbone. "You don't have to believe it. The bond already knows."
She pulled away, heart pounding.
Before either of them could speak, a shout rang out from below.
"Alpha! You need to see this!"
Alexander turned instantly. "Come."
They hurried down the stairs to the courtyard, where a scout—mud-caked and breathing hard—stood beside a shivering young wolf girl, maybe fourteen. Her eyes were wide with terror.
"What happened?" Alexander demanded.
"They found her outside the Ash Hollow," the scout said. "Alone."
Elvis watched as the girl clutched something in her shaking hands.
A torn piece of fabric. It was stained red.
"Elia…" the girl whispered. "My sister… they took her…"
Alexander crouched beside her, his voice soft but firm. "Who took her, little one?"
The girl burst into tears. "Rogues. They wore masks. Smelled like death. They… they said they were coming for the White Flame."
Every eye turned to Elvis.
Her heart dropped. "What does that mean?"
Alexander stood slowly. "It means you've just become a target."
---
They met later in the war room—a circular chamber deep within the lodge, lined with maps, enchanted runes, and flickering lanterns.
Elvis sat stiffly in a high-backed chair as warriors and elders murmured around her. Alexander stood at the head of the table, his expression like stone.
A wolf with silver hair and sharp blue eyes stepped forward.
"This isn't just rogue activity," she said. "It's too coordinated. Too clean."
"Agreed," Alexander said. "Which means we have a breach—or worse."
Elvis looked around. "Why would they want me?"
An older man with a scar down his face answered. "Because killing a bound White Wolf would shatter the entire region's magic. It would leave our lands defenseless."
Great.
"So now I'm a walking nuke."
Alexander gave her a tight look. "You're more than that. But yes. We need to protect you."
"No," Elvis said. "We need to rescue that girl. Elia. She's just a kid."
"You're not trained—"
"I don't care. I'm not sitting here like a porcelain doll while people suffer because of me."
Murmurs rose.
Alexander's face hardened. "Then you'll train. Fast."
For the next week, Elvis trained harder than she ever thought possible.
Mornings began with strength drills, balance, and agility. Afternoons were hand-to-hand combat and wolf-shifting techniques. Nights were spent with Elder Maera, the silver-haired woman, who taught her about her lineage.
"You are not made of flesh alone," Maera told her one night. "You're part spirit. That's why the Moon chose you. And why your bond is unlike anything we've seen."
Elvis stood barefoot in a circle of moonlight, her breath fogging in the cold night air. The mark on her chest pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Listen to your wolf," Maera said.
"I don't have one."
"Yes, you do. She's just buried deep. Afraid. Call her out."
Elvis closed her eyes.
Tried to still her thoughts.
Tried to hear… something.
Then, faintly, like an echo across a canyon:
Elisandra…
Her eyes flew open.
"What was that?"
Maera smiled. "Your true name. The one the Moon gave you."
On the eighth night, a scout returned with news.
"We found the girl. Elia. She's alive—but barely."
"She's at the east ridge," he continued. "Rogues left her tied near the old shrine."
Elvis was already moving. "Let's go."
Alexander blocked her path. "No."
"No?"
"It's a trap. They want you to come."
She glared at him. "And what, we do nothing?"
He sighed. "We'll send a team."
"No," Elvis said, stepping forward. "We'll go together. You and me. No one else."
He stared at her.
She met his eyes. "You said I'm bonded to you. Then trust me the way you want me to trust you."
A long silence. Then finally—he nodded.
They rode under cover of night.
Alexander's wolf moved beside hers, their steps silent on the mossy path. She hadn't mastered the full shift yet, but her senses had sharpened. She could hear whispers on the wind, the flutter of owl wings overhead, the hum of ancient magic beneath the earth.
The shrine came into view—ruins of old stone, vines winding through crumbling archways.
And there—curled against the base of a statue—was the girl.
Elia.
Alive. Barely conscious.
Elvis rushed forward, dropped to her knees. "It's okay. You're safe."
The girl opened her eyes. "You came…"
And then her eyes widened.
"Behind you!"
Elvis turned too late.
A cloaked figure lunged from the trees.
But before he could touch her, Alexander shifted mid-air, slamming into the attacker with a furious roar.
More followed.
Rogues poured from the shadows—masked, silent, eyes glowing with dark magic.
Elvis grabbed the girl and pulled her behind the shrine wall. "Stay down!"
She looked up to see Alexander fighting three at once, his silver fur flashing like moonlight. Blood sprayed, bones cracked—but they kept coming.
Then something else stepped from the shadows.
A woman.
Tall. Pale. Eyes like bleeding stars.
"You're the White Wolf," she said, voice like silk.
Elvis stood. "Who are you?"
"A collector," the woman said, tilting her head. "And I'm here for what's mine."
"I don't belong to you."
"Oh," the woman smiled. "Not yet."
She raised her hand—and pain exploded in Elvis's skull.
She dropped to her knees, vision swimming. Her mark burned, white-hot.
Then a surge of power rose in her chest—wild, ancient, furious.
She screamed.
Light burst from her skin, slamming into the woman and hurling her back through a tree.
Alexander stopped mid-fight.
Elvis stood slowly, eyes glowing silver.
The rogues froze.
She walked forward.
They ran.
The pale woman crawled away, hissing. "It's true… the White Flame rises again."
Then she vanished into mist.
Alexander ran to Elvis, grabbing her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
She nodded slowly. "I think… I think I burned her."
He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
"No," he said. "You awakened."