The reflection vanished the moment Calen stirred.
Elena blinked, her breath shallow, staring at the glass until it showed only herself again—pale, sleepless, and trembling.
"Can't sleep?" Calen's voice was a low murmur in the dark.
She turned toward him. The faint moonlight touched his jaw and his bare shoulders. "I thought I heard something."
He reached out, his hand finding hers under the blanket. "It's just the wind."
It wasn't. She knew it wasn't. The whisper still clung to the edges of her mind, soft as breath against her ear. Anchor...
She forced a small nod. "Yeah. The wind."
He studied her face for a moment longer, then drew her closer until her cheek rested against his chest. His heartbeat steadied hers, slow and solid, grounding her in something real. For a few moments, she let herself believe in the silence.
But even wrapped in his warmth, she could feel the mark—or what was left of it—throbbing faintly beneath the scar. It was no longer a wound but something deeper, like a second pulse hidden beneath her own.
By dawn, the pack was already restless.
Elena followed Calen out of the house, their footsteps crunching over damp gravel. The rain from the night before had left the air thick and cool. Around them, wolves gathered in tense clusters, whispering under their breath.
She could feel their eyes on her.
Yara stood near the council hall doors, her usual calm replaced by tight wariness. "They called a meeting," she said.
Calen's expression darkened. "Who called it?"
"Marcus. Said it concerns 'the bond.'"
Elena's stomach turned.
Inside the hall, the air was colder than outside. The council members sat in a semicircle—Marcus, Elder Thorne, and two others Elena had seen only in passing. A long table separated them from Calen and Elena.
"Alpha," Marcus greeted, his tone edged in civility. "We appreciate your presence so early."
Calen crossed his arms. "You made it sound urgent."
"It is." Marcus's gaze shifted toward Elena. "The curse might have changed form, but it hasn't disappeared. We've felt... disturbances."
Elder Thorne leaned forward. "The vines outside the boundary have started growing again. Slowly, but unnaturally. And the moon's pull—something is off."
Calen's voice stayed even. "And you think that's her doing?"
Marcus didn't answer directly. "We think it's connected to her. The mark she bears isn't gone, merely altered. Whatever magic she carries, it's influencing the balance of the pack."
Elena stepped forward. "I didn't ask for this. The spirit—"
"—is gone," Marcus interrupted, his tone sharp. "And yet its echo lingers. You're the only variable."
Calen's jaw tightened. "Careful."
Elder Thorne raised a hand. "None of us want conflict. But if her presence threatens the pack—"
"She saved it," Calen said flatly. "You'd all be dead if not for her."
The room fell into uneasy silence.
Marcus's eyes flicked to Elena's wrist. "Then perhaps she can prove it. Let the healer test her blood. If it's pure, we'll know she's free of the spirit."
Elena's breath caught. She knew what that meant. Her blood still shimmered faintly when exposed to air—touched by moonlight, touched by him.
Calen spoke before she could. "No one touches her."
Marcus smiled thinly. "You'd deny the council its right to ensure the pack's safety?"
"I'd deny anyone who treats her like a threat instead of a person."
The silence that followed was sharp. The other elders shifted uneasily, exchanging looks.
Elder Thorne sighed. "We'll adjourn until moonrise. By then, perhaps the air will clear... or darken."
Calen gave a curt nod and turned, guiding Elena out.
Outside, she exhaled shakily. "You shouldn't have done that."
"I'm not letting them test you like an experiment."
"They'll see it as defiance."
He stopped, turning to face her. "Let them."
His tone was iron, but she could see the exhaustion behind his eyes. He'd been fighting his own people since the day he claimed her.
"Calen," she said quietly. "If the vines are growing again—"
"Then we'll deal with it."
"What if it's my fault?"
He stepped closer until their breath mingled. "Then we'll deal with that too."
She searched his face, looking for the same steady certainty that had always grounded her. But something flickered behind his gaze—not doubt, but fear.
"You feel it too, don't you?" she whispered.
He hesitated. Then nodded once. "Every time I touch you, there's... something. Like the bond isn't gone. Just quieter."
She pressed her hand against her chest. "It's growing stronger. The spirit's energy—it's feeding on the pack's unrest."
He caught her wrist. "Then we stop the unrest."
But even as he said it, a sudden chorus of howls rose from the northern hills. Dozens of voices, raw and desperate.
Calen's expression hardened. "Stay with Yara. Don't move until I come back."
"Calen—"
He was already shifting. Bones cracked, muscles rippled, and within seconds, the black wolf tore across the courtyard, disappearing into the mist.
Elena watched him go, her heart pounding with something heavier than fear. The vines along the fence trembled as though in answer.
When she turned back toward the hall, Yara was already waiting. "They'll turn him against you if they can," the witch said quietly.
Elena swallowed. "Then I'll make sure they can't."
She didn't notice Marcus watching from the window above—eyes cold, calculating, already planning the next move.