Dawn painted the sky in shades of fire as Elara's party rode out of Blackthorn.
Not an army—just a small group, carefully chosen. Kael at her side, his presence an anchor. Cassian and Lyra as guards and witnesses. Dace with his ever-present journal, determined to record everything. And Bran, the ancient elder whose wisdom might prove invaluable when dealing with Shadowfang's traditions.
Fifty wolves had volunteered to accompany them. Elara had accepted only these five.
"We need to show strength," she'd explained to the disappointed volunteers, "but not threat. This isn't an invasion. It's an answer to a challenge. Too many warriors would look like we're preparing for war."
The wolves had understood. Reluctantly.
Now, as Blackthorn's gates disappeared behind them, Elara felt the weight of what she was riding toward.
Shadowfang. A pack she knew almost nothing about, led by an Alpha who'd publicly called her a pretender. Who wanted to see her bleed.
You can do this, she told herself. You've survived worse.
But had she? Surviving attacks was one thing. Walking into a hostile pack's territory and facing their champion in combat was something else entirely.
Kael's hand found hers.
I'm here, he thought through the bond. Every step.
I know. She squeezed back. That's what keeps me going.
---
The journey took three days.
Three days of riding through terrain that grew increasingly harsh—rocky outcroppings, sparse forests, the first hints of the eastern wastelands that bordered Shadowfang territory. Three days of camping under stars, of quiet conversations around fires, of Dace filling pages with observations and Bran sharing stories of packs long gone.
On the second night, Cassian raised a concern.
"We're being watched."
Elara felt it too—the prickle of awareness, the sense of eyes in the darkness. Through her awakened senses, she could detect the faint signatures of wolves, lurking just beyond the firelight.
"Shadowfang scouts," Bran confirmed. "They'll report our approach. The Alpha will know we're coming."
"Good." Elara's voice was steady. "Let him know. Let him see that we're not sneaking, not hiding, not afraid."
Kael's approval warmed through the bond.
That's my queen.
Your queen who's terrified but pretending otherwise.
Terrified is fine. Showing it to the enemy isn't.
She almost smiled.
---
On the third morning, Shadowfang territory rose before them.
It was... bleak. Elara hadn't known what to expect, but the reality was stark: a compound built into the side of a mountain, all grey stone and sharp angles, surrounded by terrain that offered no cover, no comfort, no warmth.
"Charming," Dace muttered.
"Functional." Bran's voice was thoughtful. "Shadowfang has always prioritized defense over beauty. Their position is nearly impregnable—mountains at their back, wasteland to the east, only this narrow approach from the west."
Elara studied the compound. "And if the challenge goes wrong?"
"Then we hope they honor the traditions of hospitality." Bran's ancient eyes were grim. "Most packs do. But Shadowfang... they're known for playing by their own rules."
Lovely.
Kael moved his horse closer. "We go in together. We don't separate. If anything feels wrong—"
"We leave." Elara finished the thought. "I know. But I don't think it'll come to that. This Alpha wants something—attention, recognition, proof that the new queen is worth following. If I give him that, maybe—"
"Maybe he'll accept your rule. Or maybe he'll try to kill you." Kael's jaw tightened. "We prepare for both."
They rode forward.
---
The Shadowfang compound was even more forbidding up close.
Walls of dark stone. Gates banded with iron. Wolves who watched from every vantage point, their eyes cold and assessing. No one smiled. No one waved. No one offered any greeting at all.
At the gates, they were stopped by warriors in dark armor.
"State your business."
Elara's horse shifted beneath her, sensing her tension. She kept her voice calm. "I'm Elara of the Silver Crown. Queen of the restored royal line. Your Alpha issued a challenge. I'm here to answer it."
The warriors exchanged glances.
Then, slowly, the gates opened.
"Ride through. Someone will escort you to the great hall."
---
The great hall of Shadowfang matched its exterior—all grey stone and harsh angles, torches casting dancing shadows across faces that held no warmth. Wolves lined the walls, watching, judging. At the far end, on a raised dais, sat the Alpha.
He was massive. That was Elara's first impression. Not just tall—wide, built like someone who'd spent decades turning his body into a weapon. His face was scarred, his eyes the color of storm clouds, his hair iron-grey despite apparent middle age.
He didn't rise as they approached.
"So." His voice was a rumble. "The little pretender comes at last."
Elara stopped in the center of the hall, her companions fanning out behind her. Kael at her right hand, Cassian and Lyra flanking, Dace with his journal, Bran standing tall despite his years.
"I'm no pretender." Her voice carried. "I'm Elara of the Silver Crown, daughter of the last true queen, heir to the line that ruled for a thousand years. And you—" She met his storm-grey eyes. "—are Viktor of Shadowfang, who challenged my right to rule. I'm here to answer that challenge."
Silence.
Then Viktor laughed.
It wasn't the ugly laugh of Marlena—more like the rumble of distant thunder. Not mocking, exactly. Assessing.
"Bold words for such a small thing." He rose from his seat—and he was even larger standing, easily seven feet of muscle and scar tissue. "You don't look like much, girl. You don't smell like much. And yet—" He sniffed the air. "There's something there. Something old. Something powerful."
He senses the royal blood, Elara realized. Even through everything.
"I'm not here to impress you with how I look." She held his gaze. "I'm here to answer your challenge. To prove, as your tradition demands, that the Crown is worth following. So tell me the terms, Viktor. What do you want?"
Viktor studied her for a long moment.
Then he smiled—and it was not a comforting expression.
"Simple. You fight my champion. One on one. Winner takes all." He gestured, and a figure emerged from the shadows beside the dais. "Meet Kress. My best. Undefeated in thirty-seven challenges."
The wolf who stepped forward was... wrong.
That was Elara's first thought. Not wrong in the way of rogues or dark magic—just... wrong. Too still. Too silent. Eyes that held no emotion, no life, nothing at all.
He's killed so much he's forgotten how to feel, she realized. He's just... a weapon now.
Kael's hand found hers. Through the bond, she felt his horror—and his desperate need to protect her.
You can't fight that, he thought. That's not a wolf. That's a monster.
I have to.
Elara—
I have to.
She stepped forward.
"I accept." Her voice rang off the stone walls. "Tomorrow at dawn. In whatever fighting ground you choose."
Viktor's eyebrows rose. "You don't want time to prepare? To train?"
"I've been preparing my whole life." She met his eyes. "I just didn't know it."
For a long moment, the Alpha stared at her.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Dawn it is. My wolves will show you to quarters." He turned away—dismissal clear. "Try not to die too quickly, little queen. I'd hate for this to be boring."
---
The quarters they were given were sparse but clean.
Elara stood at the narrow window, staring out at the dark mountains, while her companions settled around her.
"We could leave tonight." Cassian's voice was low. "Sneak out under cover of darkness. This challenge—it's suicide and you know it."
"Cassian's right." Lyra's hand rested on her sword. "That wolf—Kress—he's not a fighter. He's a killer. Thirty-seven undefeated challenges means thirty-seven dead wolves."
"I know." Elara didn't turn. "I saw it in his eyes. Nothing. Just... nothing."
"Then why—"
"Because if I run, everything we've built crumbles." She turned to face them. "The packs watching. The wolves who've pledged loyalty. The ones still waiting to see. If I run from this challenge, I prove Viktor right—that I'm a pretender, not a queen. And everything we fought for—" Her voice caught. "Everything people died for—becomes meaningless."
Silence.
Bran spoke quietly. "She's right. As much as I hate it, she's right. The old traditions demand this. If she refuses, the Crown loses all credibility."
"Then we fight dirty." Kael's voice was ice. "We cheat. We—"
"Kael." Elara crossed to him, took his face in her hands. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But I need you to trust me. The way I trusted you when you fought Marlena's champion. The way I trusted you to come back from death." She met his silver eyes. "I can do this. I will do this. And when it's over, I'll come back to you. I promise."
He stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he pulled her close.
"You'd better." His voice was rough. "Because I'm not living in a world without you. I meant that."
"I know." She held him tight. "I know."
---
That night, Elara sat alone in the darkness.
Kael slept nearby—she'd insisted he rest, even though she couldn't. Through the bond, she felt his troubled dreams, his fear for her, his love wrapped around her like a shield.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow I fight for everything.
You'll win. The voice wasn't Kael's—wasn't anyone's she knew. But it was familiar. You'll win because you have something he doesn't.
What?
A reason to live.
Elara's eyes opened.
In the corner of the room, faintly glowing, stood a figure. Silver. Familiar. Mother.
"You're here." Elara's voice was barely a whisper.
"I'm always here." The Queen smiled. "Watching. Waiting. Believing." She moved closer, though her feet didn't seem to touch the floor. "Tomorrow, when you face him, remember: he fights because he's forgotten how to do anything else. You fight because you have everything to live for. That's not weakness. That's power."
"The bond?"
"Your mate. Your people. Your love. All of it will be with you in that circle. All of it will give you strength." The Queen reached out, touched Elara's face—and for just a moment, Elara felt warmth, real and solid and real. "You are my daughter. You are the Silver heir. And you are enough. Now rest. Tomorrow, you rise."
The figure faded.
Elara sat in the darkness, tears streaming down her face.
But for the first time since arriving at Shadowfang, she felt ready.
---
End of Chapter 27🐺