Aria's POV
The rogue's teeth sank into my shoulder.
I screamed and drove my stolen knife into his throat. Hot blood sprayed across my face. He gurgled and collapsed, twitching.
Dead.
My third kill this month. I should feel sick. Horrified. But all I felt was relief that I was alive and he wasn't.
Three months in the Forsaken Lands had turned me into something I didn't recognize.
I yanked the knife free and wiped it on what was left of my silver engagement dress. The beautiful gown was now brown rags held together with stolen rope. My hands were covered in calluses and scars. My hair, once carefully curled, hung in dirty tangles.
The soft Beta daughter was gone. Something harder had taken her place.
I searched the rogue's body for supplies. Found half a loaf of stale bread and a water flask. Score. Food was everything down here.
That old woman who'd caught me in the cargo net—she'd disappeared after muttering cryptic warnings about my bloodline. Said I needed to survive first, understand later.
So I'd learned the hard way.
Learned which caves had fresh water. Which territories belonged to dangerous rogue packs. How to steal food from the monthly supply drops. How to kill without hesitation.
The Forsaken Lands didn't forgive weakness.
I found shelter in a shallow cave as the sun set. Built a small fire with stolen flint. The bread was moldy, but I ate it anyway. Hunger didn't care about mold.
Movement outside made me grab my knife. A small figure slipped into the cave—Raven, my only friend in this hell.
Ari! Thank the spirits you're alive! Raven was Omega-ranked, thrown down here two years ago for disrespecting a Beta lord. She was scrappy and clever, with short dark hair and quick hands. I thought that rogue pack got you.
They tried. I showed her my bleeding shoulder. Didn't work out for them.
Raven pulled out bandages and started cleaning the wound. You're getting scary good at this survival thing.
I don't have a choice.
None of us do. Raven tied off the bandage. But listen, you need to hear this. News came from above.
My stomach clenched. What news?
Raven pulled out a crumpled newspaper. Someone up top must have dropped it during a supply run. Your sister's getting married.
I grabbed the paper with shaking hands. The headline made my blood boil:
LADY LYANNA SILVERTHORN TO WED COUNCILMAN DAMON BLACKCLAW
There was a picture. Lyanna in a white dress—my engagement dress—smiling at the camera. Damon beside her, looking proud.
My hands crumpled the paper.
There's more, Raven said quietly. Read it.
I forced myself to read through the rage:
Lady Lyanna Silverthorn, beloved daughter of Lord Marcus Silverthorn, will wed Councilman Damon Blackclaw next month in the grandest ceremony the Alpha Citadel has seen in decades.
It broke my heart to expose my sister's lies, Lady Lyanna said. But truth matters more than family. I only wish I'd discovered her fraud sooner.
Councilman Blackclaw praised his fiancée: Lyanna's integrity saved our community from a dangerous deceiver.
Lord Marcus has officially named Lyanna his sole heir, granting her full control of the Silverthorn estate and fortune.
Sole heir. Everything that should have been mine—the estate, the fortune, the name—all given to her.
They're getting married in three weeks, Raven added softly.
I stood abruptly and walked to the cave entrance. Stared up at the cliff face rising into clouds. Somewhere beyond those clouds, Lyanna was planning her wedding. Wearing my dresses. Living my life.
While I rotted down here like garbage.
I'm going to kill them, I said calmly. All of them.
Good. Raven stood beside me. But first you need power. Real power.
Where am I supposed to get that? I laughed bitterly. I'm an exile with a knife and rage. That's not enough to fight the Council.
Maybe not. Raven hesitated. But I've been asking around. Talking to the old-timers who've been down here for decades.
And?
There's a place. Deep in rogue territory. Moonfall Crypt. Raven's voice dropped. They say Alpha King Kael is buried there.
My heart skipped. Everyone knew the story. Kael Nightfang, the most powerful Alpha King in history, died heroically in the Blood Moon War five years ago.
So? He's dead.
Maybe. Maybe not. Raven pulled out a hand-drawn map. The old-timers say strange things happen near that crypt. Wolves who go there either disappear or come back changed. Powerful.
Or they come back dead.
You're already supposed to be dead. Raven shoved the map into my hands. What do you have to lose?
I stared at the crude drawing. The crypt was marked with a skull symbol, deep in the most dangerous part of the Forsaken Lands.
Three weeks until Lyanna's wedding.
Three weeks to find power or die trying.
Something had been building inside me for months. Pressure in my chest that grew stronger every day. Sometimes I'd wake up with my hands glowing faintly blue. Sometimes I could hear heartbeats from miles away.
Something was changing in me. Something the Council had feared enough to throw me away.
If there was even a chance that crypt held answers—held power—I had to try.
I'm going, I said.
I figured. Raven grinned. I'll come with you.
No. It's too dangerous.
Which is exactly why you need backup. Raven crossed her arms stubbornly. Besides, you saved my life twice. I owe you.
I wanted to argue. But the truth was, I didn't want to face whatever was in that crypt alone.
Fine. But we leave tomorrow.
That night, I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about Lyanna's smiling face in that newspaper photo. About Damon kissing her hand the way he used to kiss mine.
About Father naming her his heir like I'd never existed.
The pressure in my chest built until I could barely breathe. Blue light sparked between my fingers.
What was happening to me?
When I finally slept, I dreamed of silver hair and golden eyes. Of a voice calling my name from darkness. Of hands reaching through stone, desperate and drowning.
Find me, the voice whispered. Wake me. We have the same enemies. The same rage. Together, we could burn them all.
I woke gasping, my heart pounding.
Just a dream. Had to be.
But my chest still ached like something was pulling me forward. Calling me.
We left at dawn. The journey to Moonfall Crypt took two and a half days of brutal travel. We avoided rogue patrols, stole food where we could, slept in trees.
On the third day, storm clouds rolled in. Black and violent, crackling with unnatural energy.
We should find shelter! Raven shouted over rising wind.
But I couldn't stop. The pull in my chest had become unbearable. Like invisible chains dragging me forward.
The crypt's close! I yelled back. I can feel it!
Rain hit like frozen knives. Wind tore at our clothes. Lightning split the sky.
Then I saw it.
The Moonfall Crypt rose from the wasteland like a massive black tooth. Carved into the side of a mountain, covered in glowing blue symbols that pulsed with each lightning strike.
The pull in my chest became a scream.
Aria, wait! Raven grabbed my arm. Something's wrong! That magic feels
Thunder drowned her words. A lightning bolt struck so close the ground exploded.
I ran.
Ran toward the crypt like my life depended on it. Like something inside was dying and only that tomb could save it.
Raven's shouts faded behind me. There was only the storm, the glowing symbols, and the desperate need pulling me forward.
I burst through the entrance and collapsed.
The temperature dropped instantly. My breath puffed white. The blue runes provided just enough light to see ancient stone walls.
At the center sat a massive sarcophagus.
The lid was carved with a wolf—beautiful and fierce and somehow familiar.
This was it. Alpha King Kael's tomb.
I crawled forward on hands and knees, soaking wet and exhausted. The storm raged outside. My shoulder wound had reopened, bleeding through Raven's bandages.
I needed to rest. Just for a moment.
I collapsed against the sarcophagus, my hand touching cold stone.
The runes exploded with light.
Power slammed into me so hard I screamed. The sarcophagus cracked down the middle with a sound like the world breaking.
Blue and gold light erupted from every symbol. The lid shattered completely.
A hand shot out from inside—strong, pale, covered in glowing marks.
It grabbed my wrist in an iron grip.
I screamed and tried to pull away, but the hand held tight. Desperate. Drowning.
A figure rose from the tomb.
Silver hair fell past broad shoulders. His skin was deathly pale, covered in glowing blue symbols. His eyes blazed molten gold—not human, not wolf, but something ancient and powerful.
He was the most beautiful and terrifying person I'd ever seen.
And he was staring at me like I was the only thing in the universe that mattered.
You're touching me. His voice was rough, broken. How are you touching me?