The world went silent.
Elara knelt in the blood-soaked courtyard, Kael's body cradled against her chest, the last echoes of her power fading into the night. Around her, wolves stared in stunned silence. The master was gone—scattered like ash, his darkness cleansed by her light.
But Kael hadn't moved.
Hadn't breathed.
Hadn't anything.
"Kael." Her voice was a broken whisper. "Kael, please. Please wake up."
Nothing.
Through the bond—through the place where his warmth had always been—there was only cold. Only silence. Only absence.
"No." She shook him gently, desperately. "No, you promised. You promised you weren't leaving. You promised."
The silver marks on her arms pulsed faintly, then faded. Without the bond, without him, they seemed to be dimming. Dying.
Just like her heart.
Morwenna appeared beside her, ancient face twisted with grief. "Child—"
"Save him." Elara grabbed the old woman's arm. "You saved him before. In the Moon Pool. Do it again. Please—"
"Elara." Morwenna's voice was gentle. Broken. "The Moon Pool heals wounds. It can't raise the dead."
Dead.
The word was a knife through her chest.
"He's not dead." She shook her head fiercely. "He can't be dead. I would feel it. The bond—"
"The bond is silent because he's gone." Tears streamed down Morwenna's ancient face. "I'm so sorry, child. So sorry."
Elara stared at her.
Then she looked down at Kael. At his peaceful face. At the blood that no longer flowed. At the chest that didn't rise.
Something inside her cracked.
And then it shattered.
---
The scream that tore from her throat wasn't human.
It was wolf—primal, agonized, endless. Silver light exploded from her body, not in controlled bursts this time, but in wild, grief-stricken waves that sent wolves stumbling backward. The palace itself seemed to shudder, stones groaning in sympathy.
No no no no no—
She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything except hold him and scream and die inside.
Because without him, she was nothing.
Without him, the bond was silence.
Without him, the world was dark.
---
How long she knelt there, she didn't know.
Minutes. Hours. An eternity.
Wolves approached and retreated, uncertain how to help. Dace stood nearby, tears streaming unashamedly down his face. Cassian, wounded but alive, limped close and simply... waited. Lyra guarded them both, sword still drawn against threats that no longer existed.
But Elara saw none of it.
She saw only Kael.
Kael, who'd rejected her and then chosen her. Kael, who'd knelt before her and called her his home. Kael, who'd thrown himself in front of a god's attack to save her.
You promised, she thought at him. You promised you weren't leaving.
The silence mocked her.
---
Morwenna's voice came from somewhere far away.
"Child. Elara. You need to listen to me."
"I can't." Her voice was dead. Hollow. "He's gone. He's gone and I can't—I can't—"
"The bond." Morwenna's tone was urgent. "The bond isn't completely gone. Look—look at your marks."
Elara looked.
The silver lines on her arms had dimmed, yes—but they hadn't disappeared. Faint traces still remained, pulsing with weak, almost imperceptible light.
"It's not gone," Morwenna breathed. "It's dormant. Like it was before. Which means—"
"Which means what?" Elara's head snapped up. "Which means what?"
Morwenna's ancient eyes were wild with hope. "Which means he's not completely gone. The bond doesn't lie, child. It can't. If he were truly dead, the marks would vanish. Yours would fade to nothing. But they haven't."
Elara stared at her marks. At the faint, pulsing light.
Not gone. Not completely gone.
"He's in between," Morwenna continued, her voice shaking. "Closer to death than life, but not fully crossed. The bond is holding him—you are holding him—by refusing to let go."
"Then I won't let go." Elara's voice was fierce. "I'll never let go. Tell me what to do."
Morwenna hesitated. "There's a ritual. Ancient. Dangerous. It requires the Moon Pool and more power than any single wolf has ever channeled. But if anyone could—"
"I can." Elara was already moving, gathering Kael in her arms despite his size, lifting him with strength she didn't know she had. "Show me. Now."
---
They carried him to the Moon Pool.
The silver liquid glowed faintly in the darkness, as if sensing their approach. Elara lowered Kael into the water with trembling hands, watching as it closed over his chest, his face, his too-still body.
"Now what?" she demanded.
Morwenna stood at the pool's edge, ancient face etched with worry. "Now you enter the water with him. You open yourself completely—every part of you, every scrap of power, every fragment of your soul. And you pull."
"Pull?"
"Through the bond. The way you pulled him from the forest to the palace. But stronger. Deeper. You need to reach into the place between life and death and drag him back."
The place between life and death.
Elara didn't hesitate.
She stepped into the pool.
---
The silver liquid was cold—colder than anything she'd ever felt. It rose around her legs, her waist, her chest, until only her head remained above the surface. Kael floated beside her, eyes closed, face peaceful.
I'm coming for you, she thought at him. Hold on.
She reached through the bond.
Nothing.
Faint, distant nothing.
She reached deeper.
Still nothing.
You promised, she thought desperately. You promised you weren't leaving. You don't get to break promises. Not to me. Not ever.
The bond pulsed.
Weak. Distant. But there.
Kael. She poured everything into the thought—her love, her hope, her desperate, burning need. Come back to me. Please. I can't do this without you.
The pulse grew stronger.
That's it. That's it. Fight. Come back. I'm here. I'm waiting. I'll always be waiting.
The silver liquid began to glow.
---
Morwenna's voice came from somewhere far away, chanting in that ancient language Elara didn't know but somehow understood. The words resonated in her bones, in her blood, in the marks that covered her body.
Life to death, the chant seemed to say. Death to life. Love is the bridge. Love is the key.
Elara clung to Kael's hand. Poured everything she had into the bond.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
The pool blazed with light.
And Kael's eyes opened.
---
He gasped—a horrible, wrenching sound, like someone dragged from drowning. Water flooded from his lungs. His chest heaved. His hand—the one she held—squeezed with desperate strength.
"Elara." His voice was wrecked. Broken. Alive. "Elara—"
She crushed her mouth to his.
Kissed him with everything she had. With every moment of fear, every second of grief, every particle of love that filled her soul. He kissed her back—weakly at first, then stronger, then with the desperate passion of someone who'd stared into the void and been pulled back.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping, Kael's silver eyes found hers.
"You came for me." His voice shook. "You came into the darkness and pulled me back."
"Always." Tears streamed down her face. "I'll always come for you. Always."
He pulled her close, held her tight, buried his face in her hair.
Around them, the Moon Pool's light faded to a soft, steady glow.
And through the bond, warm and certain and whole, his love flooded back into her.
I'm here, he thought. I'm here. I'm not leaving.
I know. She held him tighter. I know.
---
They emerged from the pool to find the courtyard transformed.
The dead were being tended—loyalist and rogue alike, though the rogues were simply... gone. Without the master's dark magic binding them, they'd scattered like the shadows they'd become. Some had fled. Others had simply collapsed, their unnatural existence ended.
The loyalists who remained—wounded, exhausted, but alive—stared as Elara and Kael walked through their midst. Hand in hand. Alive. Together.
Sera was the first to kneel.
"Your Highness." Her voice carried across the courtyard. "You saved us. You saved all of us."
Behind her, the others knelt.
Not commanded. Not coerced. Simply honoring the queen who'd destroyed their enemy and then walked into death to save her mate.
Elara's eyes burned.
"Rise," she said softly. "Please. I'm not—I'm not a queen who wants people on their knees. I'm a queen who wants people beside her."
Slowly, they rose.
And for the first time, looking at the faces of those who'd survived, Elara felt something she'd never felt before.
Home.
Not the palace. Not the throne. Not even Kael's love—though that was part of it.
This. These wolves who'd fought for her, bled for her, believed in her. They were her home now.
Her pack.
Her people.
---
Dawn broke over the Silver Palace.
Elara stood on the tower with Kael, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of gold and rose. Below them, the courtyard stirred with activity—wolves tending wounds, clearing debris, beginning the long work of rebuilding.
"How many did we lose?" she asked quietly.
"Forty-three." Kael's voice was heavy. "Forty-three loyalists who'll never go home."
Forty-three. The number was a stone in her chest.
"But the master's dead." He turned her to face him. "You killed him. Ended two centuries of hunting. Saved every wolf who'll ever live from his shadow." He touched her face. "That matters, Elara. Their sacrifice matters because of what it bought."
She leaned into his touch. "I know. It just... hurts."
"Good." His voice was gentle. "If it didn't hurt, you wouldn't be the queen they need. Grief is love with nowhere to go. Let yourself feel it."
Grief is love with nowhere to go.
She thought of the forty-three. Of their families. Of the empty places they'd leave behind.
"Kael." She looked up at him. "What happens now? The master's dead, but the world is still broken. Marlena still controls Blackthorn. Other packs still don't know about me. The loyalists are here, but they're scattered—"
"Now?" He pulled her close. "Now we rest. We heal. We mourn. And then—" He kissed her forehead. "Then we rebuild. Together. One pack at a time, one wolf at a time, one day at a time."
"It'll take years."
"We have years." His silver eyes held hers. "We have forever."
Forever.
Through the bond, she felt his certainty. His love. His absolute faith in whatever came next.
"Forever," she agreed softly. "That sounds perfect."
They stood together, watching the sun rise over the palace that was now their home.
And for the first time in two hundred years, the Silver Crown had hope.
---
End of Chapter 20🐺