The soft knock on the chamber door startled Lara. She'd been staring out the tall window for what felt like hours, trying to ignore the strange ache in her chest and the feeling that her life had been cracked in half.
A gentle voice followed the knock. "May I come in?"
Before Lara could answer, the door opened and a young woman stepped inside, holding a basket draped in linen. She had long auburn hair braided over one shoulder and a smile that reached her soft eyes.
"I'm Iris," she said kindly. "Thornak's sister."
Lara tensed, unsure what to say. The name of the Lycan King still made her chest tighten.
"I brought you some things," Iris continued, walking over to the table near the window. "Warm bread, stew. And some proper clothes. My brother thought you might want something more comfortable."
Lara glanced down at the oversized shirt she wore-it must've been Thornak's. Her cheeks flushed.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Iris turned to her, her smile warm. "You don't need to be afraid. I know this place can feel... cold. But not everyone here has fangs and growls."
That made Lara laugh, a tiny, surprised sound. Iris' eyes sparkled.
---
Thornak rode ahead of his men, the weight of his thoughts heavier than the armor he wore. His horse's hooves echoed on the frozen earth, the sound sharp in the quiet expanse of the forest. The wind whipped through his cloak, the fur-lined edges billowing like the banners of war. His senses were sharp, attuned to the subtle shifts in the air around him, but it was the tug at his chest-the pull toward Lara-that kept his thoughts tethered.
He could still feel her warmth, her pulse beneath his hands, the slight shift of her breath as she woke. His wolf stirred restlessly within him, a reminder of the bond that was both exhilarating and unsettling.
It didn't make sense. The Moon Goddess had chosen her for him, a wolfless werewolf. And he, a Lycan. Their worlds, their roles, were supposed to be as far apart as the moon and the earth. Yet when he had seen her in that forest, dying, when he had felt the surge of their connection flood through him like a torrent, everything had shifted. His kingdom, his purpose, they all seemed to blur when faced with the undeniable truth.
She was his woman.
The weight of it was staggering. His mind, ever pragmatic and calculating, wanted to focus on the mission. To find out who had attacked Lara, why, and how to prevent any further threats to the kingdom. But his heart was torn between his duty and the undeniable pull to be by her side.
"We'll be at Frostmere's border very soon Thorn," Ruvan called out from behind him, pulling Thornak from his thoughts.
Thornak nodded but didn't turn to face his Gamma. His gaze remained fixed ahead, the horizon barely visible through the thick trees. His wolf was alert, pacing restlessly within him, eager to return to the palace, to Lara.
"I've sent scouts ahead to confirm the situation," Ruvan continued. "But there's something about this that doesn't feel right. Whatever we're facing, it's more than just rogue wolves."
"I know," Thornak muttered, his jaw clenching as he pushed his horse forward, urging it to move faster.
But Thornak's mind was already far from the threat at hand. He could feel the pulse of the bond between him and Lara-distant yet undeniable, like an anchor in his chest. He knew he needed to focus, to be the king his people expected, but the call of the bond made it hard to think of anything else.
Thornak's horse kicked up sand as he approached the small clearing where his scouts were waiting. The group had fanned out across the perimeter, their eyes sharp, their bodies taut with the anticipation of battle. The scent of the forest still clung to the air, but it was the sense of something wrong-something out of place-that made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
He reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping across the group as they approached. His scouts, hardened by years of service, stood straight and alert. They were used to operating under pressure, but this felt different. The tension in the air was palpable.
"Report," Thornak commanded, his voice low and steady, but edged with an urgency that couldn't be ignored.
The leader of the scouts, a tall man named Karv, stepped forward, his expression grim. "We've seen signs, my King. There's movement along the border. Small, but it's not normal." He handed Thornak a bundle of tattered cloth. "This was found near the western pass."
Thornak unfolded the cloth slowly. It was coarse linen, torn and blackened at the edges with strange markings on it, the fabric brittle where fire had touched it. A strange, acrid scent lingered on it, smoke, yes, but laced with something fouler. Magic. His gut twisted.
He held it up to the light, fingers tracing the singed fibers. "This wasn't from a campfire," he muttered. "Something burned this on purpose. Blood magic, maybe."
Ruvan leaned in, his expression tight. "Rogues don't use fire. They tear, they maim, they don't scorch."
"Exactly," Thornak said, eyes hardening.
"You think it's the same force behind the patrol disappearances?"
Thornak nodded once. "I do. This cloth… it's a message. Whoever's doing this isn't hiding anymore."
"Have you found any tracks?" Thornak asked, his gaze moving across the clearing.
Karv nodded. "Yes. But they're strange. Not like any wolf I've seen before."
Thornak clenched his fists at his sides. This wasn't rogue activity. This wasn't some random skirmish between rival packs. Someone was orchestrating this, someone with a plan.
"Set up a perimeter," Thornak ordered, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "I want a full sweep of the area. No one is to approach without my command. And no one goes into the forest alone."
Karv nodded and began issuing commands to the other scouts, who quickly dispersed into the trees, their movements smooth and practiced.
Thornak remained where he was, his senses stretching out, trying to grasp anything that would give him a clue about the threat they were facing. But the air was too quiet, the only sound the wind rustling through the branches and the occasional call of distant birds.
"This is just the beginning," Ruvan said quietly, riding up alongside him. "Whoever's behind this, they're not finished yet."
Thornak didn't answer immediately. His thoughts were clouded with the image of Lara, still recovering in his chambers. The weight of the bond between them thrummed through him, a constant reminder of her presence, her safety. His wolf growled low in his chest, eager to return to her side.
"We'll find them," Thornak said, his voice firm. "And when we do, there will be no mercy."
The crackle of branches underfoot signaled Karv's return, his face pale but resolute. "There's something else, my King," he said, his voice tight. "There's an old ruin not far from here. We believe it's where they were hiding."
Thornak's brows furrowed. "Describe it."
"It's a ruin deep in the western ridge, hidden by thick brush and twisted trees. The clearing around it is unnatural, trees dead in a perfect ring, their bark blackened as if scorched from the inside out. And the air… it's wrong there. Heavy. Tainted."
He took a breath before continuing. "The stone structures are ancient pillars and broken walls marked with runes we couldn't decipher. But some of them were glowing faintly, like the magic hadn't fully settled. Fresh scorch marks crisscross the ground, and there's a bloodstain near the altar, new, not more than a day old."
Ruvan cursed low. "Ritual site."
Karv nodded. "Yes, and the altar at the center, it's been used. The ash was warm. There were remnants of burned cloth, like the one we brought, and bones arranged in a pattern. Not old bones, either. Some had flesh still clinging. Animals… maybe humans. Maybe not."
Thornak's expression darkened. "Someone performed a ritual there. Recently."
Karv met his gaze. "And I don't think they're done, my King. There were footprints in the soot. Bare feet. Large. Not human. And there were drag marks like something heavy had been pulled toward the altar."
The words struck Thornak like a physical blow. Dark magic. The kind that could only be conjured by those who understood the ancient, forbidden ways of power. His stomach twisted, a cold knot forming deep inside him.
"Lead the way," Thornak ordered, his voice clipped. "And make sure the perimeter is secure. We move now."
The scouts mounted their horses, their movements quick and efficient. Ruvan, Dain, and Karv fell into position around Thornak as they began their journey toward the ruin, the grass beneath their horses' hooves crunching in the stillness of the forest.
As they neared the location, Thornak's mind raced. This was no random attack. It was a calculated strike, aimed at testing the strength of his kingdom. But why? And who had the power-or the audacity-to use such dark magic so close to Vargorath?
This place reeks of death, Jax his wolf snarled. And worse-decay wrapped in magic.
Thornak nodded slightly to himself. He felt it too.
As the first signs of the ruin came into view.
"Stay alert," Thornak growled, his eyes fixed on the ancient stones rising from the ground.
The forest thinned as they approached the ruin. What had once been stone walls were now broken teeth jutting from the earth, half-buried under frost and creeping ivy. The trees here were different, twisted, gnarled, their bark blackened in places as though scorched long ago. The silence was unnatural.
Thornak dismounted, boots crunching over the grass. A gust of wind swept through the ruins, but it wasn't cold-it was wrong. It carried a scent he couldn't place, a mixture of ash, blood, and something foul that made his wolf rise beneath his skin, alert and on edge.
Ruvan and Dain followed closely, eyes scanning the area as Karv motioned to a set of crude symbols carved into the stone.
"Here," Karv said, kneeling. "These markings weren't here last time we patrolled."
Thorn knelt beside him. The runes were jagged, carved with something brutal. The grooves were blackened, faintly glowing in the firelight.
"Old magic," Ruvan murmured, crouching beside him. "Witch-born."
"Or worse," Thornak said. His voice dropped low, a rumble of warning beneath each word. "Blood offerings were made here. I can smell it in the stone."
He rose slowly, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword. "Whoever's doing this is summoning power they don't understand-or worse, they do understand it."
Dain looked around, his nose wrinkling. "There's no one here now. But someone's been using this place. Recent. Within a day."
Thornak moved deeper into the ruin, passing through a crumbled arch into what remained of a central chamber. A makeshift altar stood at the center, slick with dried blood. Bone fragments lay scattered in the ground like broken glass.
Someone is here, Jax growled
Then he felt it.