Dawn broke over Shadowfang like blood on stone.
Elara stood at the window of her quarters, watching the sky lighten. She hadn't slept—couldn't sleep. But she'd rested, as her mother's spirit had advised. Gathered her strength. Centered herself.
Now the waiting was over.
Kael moved behind her, his presence warm through the bond. He'd said little since waking—just held her, touched her, poured his love into every glance. Words weren't enough for what they both felt.
Ready? he thought.
No. She turned to face him. But I'm going anyway.
He crossed to her, took her face in his hands. Kissed her like it might be the last time.
When they broke apart, his silver eyes were bright with unshed tears.
"Come back to me."
"Always." She touched his face. "I promised, remember?"
"I remember." He pulled her close one last time. "I'm holding you to it."
---
The fighting ground was a circle of packed earth at the compound's center.
Wolves ringed it three deep—every member of Shadowfang, from the oldest elder to the youngest pup. They'd come to watch. To judge. To see if this small queen was worth following or just another pretender to be discarded.
At the circle's edge, Viktor waited. His storm-grey eyes tracked Elara's approach, assessing every step.
"Little queen." His voice carried. "Last chance to withdraw. To admit you're not ready for this."
Elara stopped before him. "Last chance to withdraw your challenge. To accept the Crown without bloodshed."
Something flickered in Viktor's eyes—surprise, maybe. Respect.
"No." He shook his head. "My pack needs to see. Needs to know. Words aren't enough anymore."
"Then I'll show them."
She stepped into the circle.
---
Kress waited at the center.
He looked exactly as he had the night before—too still, too silent, too empty. Thirty-seven victories had carved the humanity out of him, leaving only a weapon in wolf's clothing.
His eyes tracked her approach. Nothing else moved.
Elara stopped ten feet away. Felt the weight of hundreds of watching wolves. Felt Kael's presence through the bond, steady and warm and desperate.
I'm here, she thought toward him. Whatever happens, I'm here.
I know. I feel you.
The sun cleared the horizon.
Viktor's voice rang out. "The challenge begins! No interference. No mercy. The fight ends when one cannot continue—or when one is dead. Begin."
Kress moved.
---
He was fast.
Faster than anything Elara had faced. Faster than the rogues, faster than the hounds, faster than Marlena's champion. One moment he was ten feet away—the next, he was there, claws extended, aiming for her throat.
Elara moved.
Not as fast as him—but faster than she'd have been before the breaking. Her awakened senses screamed warning, let her dodge by inches, feel the wind of his passing as his claws missed by a hair.
She rolled, came up, put distance between them.
Kress turned. No frustration in his empty eyes. No emotion at all. Just... assessment. Calculation. The cold efficiency of a machine.
He's not fighting like a wolf, she realized. He's fighting like something that's forgotten how to feel.
The thought chilled her.
Because if he couldn't feel—couldn't fear, couldn't hesitate, couldn't doubt—then how could she possibly beat him?
You don't beat him by being stronger, her mother's voice whispered in memory. You beat him by being alive.
Kress attacked again.
---
The battle became a blur.
Elara dodged, rolled, blocked, survived. Every instinct she had screamed warnings, let her avoid killing blows by fractions of inches. But she couldn't attack—couldn't find an opening, couldn't risk getting close enough to strike.
Kress pressed forward. Relentless. Emotionless. Perfect.
A claw raked her arm—silver marks blazed, pain seared, but she kept moving. Kept surviving. Kept fighting.
Through the bond, she felt Kael's agony. His terror. His desperate need to leap into the circle and protect her.
Don't, she thought at him. If you interfere, I lose.
I don't care—
I care. Trust me.
The bond pulsed—reluctant, terrified, but trusting.
She focused back on Kress.
---
He was slowing.
Barely noticeable—a fraction of a second slower between attacks, the tiniest hesitation in his follow-through. But Elara noticed. Through her awakened senses, through the bond, through sheer desperate focus, she noticed.
He's not a machine, she realized. He's a wolf who's forgotten how to feel—but that forgetting costs energy. Constant, exhausting energy. And he's been fighting that battle for years.
He's tired.
Not physically. Soul-tired.
Kress attacked again. Elara dodged—and this time, instead of retreating, she stepped into him.
Close. Too close. His eyes widened—the first emotion she'd seen in them—as she pressed against his chest, looked up into his empty gaze.
"I see you," she whispered. "The wolf you used to be. The one who loved, who hoped, who felt. He's still in there. Buried. But still there."
Kress froze.
For one breathless moment, something flickered in those dead eyes.
Then he screamed.
---
It wasn't a battle cry—it was anguish. Pure, raw, human anguish that tore from his throat and echoed off the stone walls.
Kress stumbled back, hands pressing to his head. His wolf surged beneath his skin, uncontrolled, chaotic. He shifted without meaning to—wolf, human, wolf again—trapped between forms by emotions he'd forgotten how to process.
The crowd gasped.
Viktor leaned forward, storm-grey eyes wide.
Elara didn't move. Didn't attack. Just watched as Kress fought the battle she'd unleashed—the battle to feel again, to be again, after years of emptiness.
He fell to his knees.
Human form. Tears streaming down his face. Looking at her with eyes that were no longer empty—just lost. Terrified. Alive.
"I—" His voice cracked. "I forgot. I forgot what it felt like. To—to feel. To care. To—" He broke down, sobs wracking his massive frame.
Elara crossed to him. Knelt before him. Took his hands.
"You didn't forget," she said softly. "You buried it. To survive. To keep fighting. But it was always there, Kress. Always waiting."
He stared at her. "How do you know?"
"Because I've been there." She squeezed his hands. "Not the same—but close. I spent eighteen years being told I was nothing. Being invisible. Being empty. And then—" She touched her chest, where the marks pulsed. "Then I found something worth feeling for."
Kress's eyes moved past her. To Kael, standing at the circle's edge, silver eyes blazing with love and fear and desperate hope.
"Your mate." His voice was wondering. "You fight for him."
"I fight for him. I fight for my people. I fight for hope." She met his gaze. "You could too. If you wanted. If you chose."
Kress stared at her for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he bowed his head.
"I yield." His voice carried across the silent circle. "The queen wins. I yield."
---
The crowd erupted.
Not in celebration—not exactly. In shock. In confusion. In the chaotic noise of hundreds of wolves trying to process what they'd just witnessed.
Viktor rose from his seat. Storm-grey eyes fixed on Elara.
She rose to face him, Kress still kneeling at her feet.
"The challenge is over." Her voice carried. "Your champion yielded. Do you accept the outcome?"
A long, terrible silence.
Then Viktor smiled.
Not the assessing smile from before. Something warmer. Something that looked almost like relief.
"I accept." He stepped into the circle. Approached her slowly. "You didn't just beat him. You healed him. Thirty-seven victories, and no one ever thought to try—" He shook his head. "You're not what I expected, little queen."
"What did you expect?"
"Someone who'd fight like him." He gestured at Kress. "Someone who'd kill to prove herself. Someone hard." His eyes met hers. "You're not hard. You're something else. Something I haven't seen in a very long time."
"What?"
"Hopeful." He knelt.
In front of his entire pack. In front of the wolves who'd watched him rule for decades. Viktor of Shadowfang knelt before Elara and bowed his head.
"Shadowfang recognizes the Silver Crown." His voice rang out. "We pledge loyalty to Queen Elara. For as long as she rules with the heart she showed today."
Behind him, one by one, the pack knelt.
Hundreds of wolves, dropping to their knees in the dawn light.
Elara's eyes burned.
"Rise," she said softly. "Please. All of you."
They rose.
And Viktor, rising last, caught her eye.
"There's something else," he said quietly. "Something you should know. About the master. About why I really challenged you."
Elara's blood chilled. "What?"
His eyes were grim. "He wasn't working alone. Before you killed him, he sent messages. Allies. Wolves who'd pledged to support his cause." He paused. "Some of them are still out there. And they're gathering."
---
End of Chapter 28🐺