Chapter 2
The full moon hung like a silver crown above the high walls of Blackthorn Keep, its cold light spilling over the courtyard where warriors trained even at this late hour. The clang of steel on steel, the growl of determination, and the sharp crack of boots against the frozen ground echoed through the air like an unending war drum.
It was the way of the pack—strength never slept.
And neither did its Alpha.
From the balcony of the great hall, Kaelen Dravaryn stood like a statue carved from night itself, his cloak trailing behind him, the sigil of the Moonfang Pack stitched in threads of silver on the fabric. His eyes, the color of molten amber, swept over the men below. Every strike, every parry, every breath of his warriors fed the silent vow in his blood—never again would weakness invite ruin to his people.
Behind him, the heavy doors creaked open.
"You should rest, brother," came Serenya's voice—gentle, melodic, the sound of rivers through moonlit forests. She stepped onto the balcony, the midnight-blue skirts of her gown whispering against the stone. A silver chain circled her slender neck, its pendant shaped like a crescent moon.
Kaelen turned to look at her, his expression unreadable.
"You should be asleep, Serenya. The Council meets at dawn."
"I could say the same," she replied softly, leaning against the railing beside him. The torchlight from the courtyard painted her face in gold and shadow, highlighting the strange mix of delicacy and strength in her features.
In truth, Serenya was unlike any she-wolf he had known—graceful yet stubborn, quick-witted yet unbearably compassionate. She could calm a warrior's rage with a single word, or provoke him to challenge her with a well-aimed remark. It was part of what made her indispensable to the Moonfang household… and part of what made Kaelen's chest tighten when she was near.
A dangerous thing, that tightening.
Kaelen tore his gaze away from her, focusing again on the warriors below. "The Dravaryn bloodline cannot afford softness," he murmured. "We rule because we are feared. And fear is born from strength."
Serenya tilted her head at him, studying the way the moonlight caught in his hair. "Strength without mercy becomes tyranny. You know that."
His jaw flexed.
"And mercy without strength becomes a death sentence."
The air between them was heavy, as it often was in these late-night exchanges—two currents pulling in opposite directions, yet tied together by a thread neither could see nor sever.
---
By dawn, the courtyard had emptied, but the scent of steel and sweat still lingered. Inside the great hall, the Council of Elders gathered, their robes lined with wolf pelts, their eyes sharp and assessing. The fire pit roared at the center of the chamber, sending flickers of orange across the carved wooden beams above.
"Alpha Kaelen," intoned Elder Tharos, the eldest of them all, his voice a mix of gravel and authority. "The border skirmishes grow more frequent. Reports say the Redfang Pack has been sighted near the Shadow Vale. They are testing our defenses."
"They will find them impenetrable," Kaelen said without hesitation.
Tharos's gaze narrowed. "Do not mistake arrogance for preparation. The Redfangs are not like the rogue bands we've crushed before. They have an Alpha as cunning as you are strong."
"And yet strength always outlasts cunning," Kaelen countered.
The murmurs around the council table quieted when Serenya stepped forward from the shadows of the hall. She was not a council member, yet she was often present—her mind as sharp as any elder's, her presence one Kaelen refused to forbid.
"Perhaps," she said calmly, "we might avoid bleeding our warriors dry by sending envoys instead of swords."
A low scoff rolled through the room. Elder Malrik leaned forward. "You speak as though diplomacy could tame the Redfangs. They answer only to dominance."
"And what is dominance," Serenya asked, "if not the ability to make one kneel without drawing a blade?"
The words silenced even Malrik for a heartbeat. But Kaelen's eyes flickered—there was admiration there, yes, but also warning. She was treading the line between boldness and danger.
"We will consider all strategies," Kaelen said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "But make no mistake—the Moonfang Pack will not bend."
---
Later, when the council dispersed, Kaelen found Serenya in the gardens behind the keep. The frost-covered hedges glistened like crystal under the morning sun, and her breath formed clouds in the cold air.
"You challenged the elders," he said, his steps slow as he approached. "They do not take kindly to being contradicted."
Her lips curved faintly. "You didn't seem to mind."
"I did," he said flatly. "But not because I disagreed. Because your voice carries weight—more than you realize. And weight draws eyes. Eyes draw questions."
"Questions about what?" she asked, meeting his gaze.
Kaelen's mouth tightened. There were things he could not explain—things about her birth that were buried so deeply even he had never thought to dig. She was his sister. That was the truth he had always known. But there were nights… nights when the bond between them felt like something else entirely. Something ancient, dangerous.
"Questions you don't need the answers to," he said finally, turning away.
---
That night, a storm rolled over the mountains, and with it came a messenger—ragged, half-frozen, his clothes torn and stained with blood.
Kaelen met him in the entry hall, Serenya beside him.
The man fell to one knee, bowing low. "Alpha," he gasped, "the Redfangs have taken the Shadow Vale. They have captured our patrol."
The room went still. Only the crackle of the hearth broke the silence.
Kaelen's eyes burned with fury. "Summon the war council. At once."
But before the messenger could rise, he added, "And double the guard on Serenya."
She stiffened beside him. "I can protect myself."
"This is not a debate," he said, his tone sharper than steel. "If the Redfang Alpha is as cunning as they say, he will see you as leverage against me. And I will not give him the chance."
Her breath caught—not at his words, but at the way he had said them. The protectiveness in his voice was not just that of a brother. It was something else, something neither of them dared to name.
---
The war drums began that night.
And with them, the first cracks in the truths Kaelen thought unshakable.
Because in the darkness of her chambers, Serenya lay awake… wondering why the thought of being taken from him terrified her more than the thought of war itself.