Chapter 3 — The Weight of the Crown
The great hall still smelled of pinewood and the faint, metallic tang of blood from the sparring pits below. Torches hissed in their sconces, casting restless shadows along the carved stone pillars that guarded the throne like silent sentinels. The echoes of the council's departure lingered in Kaelen's ears, each fading footstep a reminder that the weight of their stares hadn't vanished — only followed him beyond sight.
He sat back on the throne, its high blackwood frame cold against his shoulders. His hand curled around the wolf-head armrest until the wood bit into his palm. It wasn't pain that made his jaw tighten. It was the memory of the way Lord Dravik had looked at him — not in open defiance, but in the smug, careful challenge of someone who thought they'd found the Alpha's weakness.
And the worst part? Dravik might have been right.
Elira.
She stood on the far side of the hall, pretending to study one of the maps unrolled on the council table. Her fingers traced the painted lines of rivers and borders as though memorising every path through the territory, but Kaelen could feel her awareness locked on him. He could always feel her. Even when they were children, before he knew what it meant.
She didn't belong in the council hall, and every elder here knew it. But she was here because he'd asked her to be — because he trusted her counsel more than half the men who sat in those high-backed chairs. That trust had already started rumours.
Kaelen rose from the throne. His boots made no sound as he crossed the room, but Elira straightened before he reached her, as though she'd felt the shift in the air.
"You didn't have to stay," he said quietly.
Her eyes flicked up to his, dark and unflinching. "And leave you to fend off a den of wolves alone? No, thank you." The faintest curve touched her lips, a wry almost-smile. "Besides, I think Lord Dravik enjoys my company. He glared at me only half as much as he glared at you."
He huffed out something close to a laugh. It died quickly. "Dravik is looking for cracks."
"Then don't give him any." Her tone was light, but her gaze sharpened, reading the tension in his shoulders. "What's gnawing at you?"
Kaelen leaned over the table, bracing his hands on either side of the map. "Border patrols reported movement from the southern tribes again. If they're testing our defences, they'll find them weaker than they expect — unless…" He trailed off.
"Unless you call the northern packs to arms," Elira finished for him.
He met her eyes. "And doing that risks them seeing what they weren't meant to see."
It hung there between them — the unspoken truth. The truth that Elira was not his blood. That she had been brought here in silence, her birth hidden beneath the story of a sister born under the same moon. No one could know. Not yet. Not when the law of the crown demanded the Alpha's Luna be a daughter of the bloodline.
Elira turned away first, her gaze sliding over the painted rivers again. "You can't protect me forever, Kaelen."
"It's not just you I'm protecting," he said, softer now. "If they find out before I have the strength to challenge them, they'll use you against me."
She looked at him then, and in her eyes was something that made his heart stutter — not fear, but the steel of someone who would rather burn than bend.
"You're assuming they can," she said. "Maybe you've forgotten, but I've been surviving in this den of teeth just as long as you."
A shadow flickered at the high doors. Both turned. A messenger stepped inside, bowing low before hurrying forward. His breath came fast, and his eyes darted to Elira before settling on Kaelen.
"My Alpha — a rider from the west has arrived. She bears the crest of the Crescent Moon Pack."
Kaelen's pulse quickened. The Crescent Moon Pack had been silent for years, locked in their mountain stronghold, refusing alliances. If they sent a messenger now, it could only mean one thing — war, or something dangerously close to it.
"Bring her to the war room," Kaelen ordered.
The messenger hesitated. "She insists on speaking in private."
That alone was enough to make Kaelen's jaw tighten. Few dared demand privacy with the Alpha. He nodded sharply, and the messenger fled.
Elira arched an eyebrow. "You're going."
"I have to."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"Elira—"
"I'm not asking." Her voice was quiet, but the stubborn set of her chin was all too familiar.
Kaelen almost smiled — almost — but there wasn't time for the argument they both knew she'd win. "Fine. Stay close."
They left the hall together, moving through narrow torchlit corridors until they reached the smaller chamber reserved for delicate negotiations. The heavy oak door was already ajar, and inside stood a woman Kaelen had never seen — tall, with hair like midnight and eyes like pale glass. The scent of snow and steel clung to her, marking her as no wolf of these lands.
She inclined her head, not bowing. "Alpha Kaelen."
"You have my attention," he said.
Her gaze slid briefly to Elira, then back to him. "The mountains are bleeding, and the blood runs toward your borders. The Crescent Moon Pack cannot hold back the tide alone."
"What tide?" Kaelen asked.
She stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Not a tide. A hunt. The Shadowborn are moving."
The words struck him like ice. The Shadowborn were a nightmare told to pups — werewolves twisted beyond nature, bound to darkness, neither living nor dead. They hadn't been seen in a century.
"They'll come for you first," the woman said. "And when they do, your throne will not save you."
Kaelen didn't realise his hand had gone to the hilt of his sword until Elira's fingers brushed his wrist. Not stopping him — grounding him.
"If this is true," Elira said, her voice calm, "why warn us?"
The woman's pale eyes met hers, and for a heartbeat something unreadable passed between them. "Because I have seen what happens when they take someone you love."
The night air was crisp, carrying with it the mingled scents of pine, damp earth, and the lingering tang of smoke from the evening's fire. The moon, a silver guardian, hovered above the sprawling pack lands, bathing everything in a pale, ethereal glow. Elira walked beside Kaelen, her small hand tucked into his much larger one, though neither of them acknowledged the gesture. It was simply what they did — the way one might hold onto something precious without thinking.
They were on the ridge trail, the one that wound along the high slope overlooking the heart of the pack. Below them, torchlights flickered like fireflies scattered across the valley, marking the main square where the wolves would gather for the first autumn hunt. But tonight, there was a stillness, a sense that the land itself was listening.
Kaelen spoke first.
"You've been avoiding the elders again."
Elira's lips pressed together, her eyes fixed on the path ahead.
"They talk too much."
"They ask too much," Kaelen corrected, his voice calm but with that familiar steel beneath. "And when you disappear like this, they start to think something's wrong."
"Maybe something is wrong," she said, kicking a pebble down the slope. "Maybe I'm tired of pretending everything's fine."
Kaelen stopped walking, forcing her to halt as well. His eyes caught the moonlight, the silver in them sharper than usual. "What are you trying to say, Elira?"
For a moment, the wind filled the silence between them. Elira's throat felt tight. There were things she couldn't tell him — not yet. The whispers she'd overheard in the storage hall, the murmurs about a bloodline that didn't match hers. The way her dreams had been filled with the same image for weeks: a woman's face, pale and fierce, reaching for her with bloodstained hands.
"I'm saying I need space," she finally muttered.
Kaelen's jaw worked, as though holding back words he'd regret. "Space from the pack… or from me?"
She didn't answer, because the truth would have cut too deep.
Instead, she stepped past him, continuing down the trail until the sound of the river reached her ears. It was swollen from the rains, rushing over jagged stones, and for a moment she thought she saw something on the opposite bank — a shadow, tall and still, watching her.
The scent hit her next. Not wolf. Not human. Something in-between.
She froze.
Kaelen's voice came from behind her, low and sharp. "Get back."
But she didn't move. The shadow stepped forward, just enough for the moon to catch the glint of its eyes — gold, but not like Kaelen's. These were brighter, unnatural, and filled with a hunger she didn't understand.
It smiled.
And then it was gone, swallowed by the forest as though it had never been there.
Elira turned to Kaelen, her heart pounding.
"What was that?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped in front of her, scanning the treeline with the precision of a predator.
"You stay close to me. No matter what."
"Kaelen—"
"I said no matter what, Elira." His voice was colder now, the voice of an Alpha giving an order, not a brother offering comfort.
They walked back to the main grounds in silence, but the entire way, Elira couldn't shake the feeling that the shadow was still out there. Watching.
When they reached the Alpha's lodge, the elders were already waiting. An old woman stepped forward, her eyes sharp despite her age.
"You saw it, didn't you?" she asked Kaelen.
Kaelen stiffened. "Saw what?"
"The Blood Seeker," the woman whispered, her voice trembling. "It's come for her."
The firelight between them guttered, and Elira felt the weight of every gaze turn toward her.