The Northern Pack stronghold rose from the frozen earth like a fortress of bone and shadow, its towering spires carved from black stone, its gates sealed with silver sigils that pulsed with ancient magic. Snow fell in thick, relentless sheets, burying the watchtowers, smothering the scent trails, turning the world into a monochrome nightmare. The air was sharp with the scent of iron and frost, the silence broken only by the distant howl of wolves—hungry, restless, waiting.
We stood at the edge of the ridge, Kael in half-shift, his powerful frame cutting through the drifts with predatory grace, his golden eyes scanning the terrain for threats. Silas stood beside me, his vampire stillness unnerving in the storm’s aftermath, his presence a quiet anchor. I followed, my boots crunching through the frozen earth, my mind racing faster than my body.
Two days had passed since we’d burned Vexis’s forged scroll. Two days since I’d chosen truth over freedom. Since I’d stood in the vault and declared that I belonged to no one—not him, not Kael, not even the bond. And yet, here I was, walking beside him, the bond humming beneath my skin like a live wire, my magic rising at the mere brush of his coat against mine.
I didn’t know what that meant.
Didn’t want to.
But I couldn’t deny it.
“The Iron Fangs have breached the outer wards,” Silas said, his voice cutting through the wind. He stood at the edge of the ridge, his dark coat flapping like a raven’s wing. “They’re inside. And they’re not alone.”
“Vexis,” I said, my voice low.
Kael didn’t look at me. Just nodded, his jaw tight. “He’s using them as his blades. Turning the packs against each other. If we don’t stop this now, the truce will shatter.”
“And if we do?” I asked. “If we save the stronghold, if we repel the attack—what then? Will the Council believe us? Or will they see this as another lie, another power play?”
He turned to me, his gold eyes burning. “They’ll believe you. Because you’re not just a witch anymore. You’re a force. And they saw what you did in the Archives. They saw the moonfire. They saw the truth.”
“And they still whisper,” I said, lifting my chin. “They still call me a curse. A threat. A woman who came to kill the Alpha and failed.”
“Then let them whisper,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re not here to be loved. You’re here to be *feared*.”
My breath caught.
He wasn’t wrong.
But fear wasn’t enough.
Not when my mother was still trapped.
Not when Vexis still walked free.
“Then we fight,” I said, adjusting my hood. “Not for the truce. Not for the packs. But for the truth.”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded, his expression unreadable. “Stay close. No heroics.”
“I’m not your soldier,” I said, but there was no bite in it.
“No,” he said, stepping into me. “You’re my equal. My match. And if you die, I break.”
My breath hitched.
He wasn’t just saying it to control me.
He *meant* it.
And that—
That was more dangerous than any blade.
We reached the gates as the storm reached its peak.
The silver sigils were cracked, their light flickering, the wards barely holding. The Iron Fangs had already breached the inner courtyard—shadows moving through the snow, fangs bared, eyes glowing with unnatural fire. The air was thick with the scent of blood and shadow magic, the kind that twisted through the wards like poison.
“They’ve been corrupted,” Silas murmured. “This isn’t just rebellion. It’s possession.”
“Vexis,” I said again.
Kael didn’t answer. Just drew his blade—a long, curved dagger etched with the sigil of the Northern Packs. The crescent moon with the wolf’s howl. The mark of his bloodline. His power. His pain.
“Then we burn them clean,” I said, raising my hand.
Moonfire flickered at my fingertips, silver and wild, responding to the bond, to the storm, to the rage in my chest. I could feel it—my magic, not just as a weapon, but as a *voice*. A truth. A fire that could burn through lies, through corruption, through the darkness that had taken root in the packs.
Kael turned to me, his eyes sharp. “Don’t overextend. The bond won’t protect you if you push too far.”
“I’m not asking for protection,” I said, stepping past him. “I’m asking for *trust*.”
He didn’t answer.
Just followed.
We charged.
The first wave came fast—three Iron Fangs, their eyes black with shadow, their claws dripping with venom. They lunged, not at Kael, not at Silas.
At me.
As if they *knew*.
As if Vexis had marked me.
I didn’t flinch.
I raised my hand, and I burned.
Moonfire erupted from my palm—not in a wave, not in a blast—
But in a *pulse*.
It didn’t kill them.
It *cleansed*.
The silver flame licked at their skin, not burning, not scorching—but *revealing*. For a single, blinding second, the entire courtyard was flooded with light—and in that light, I saw it.
The truth.
Their auras—normally a deep crimson—were laced with something darker. A thread of shadow, twisting through their magic like poison. And beneath it, a sigil. Faint. Hidden. But *there*.
A mark of the Unseelie Court.
They weren’t just rebels.
They were *puppets*.
And they weren’t fighting for power.
They were fighting for *him*.
Lord Vexis.
The light faded. The Iron Fangs screamed—not in pain, but in *recognition*. The shadow magic recoiled, writhing beneath their skin, fighting to stay. But the moonfire had broken the hold. The sigil cracked. The possession shattered.
And then—
They fell.
Not dead.
But *free*.
“They’re not our enemies,” I said, turning to Kael. “They’re victims. Vexis has been using them—twisting their loyalty, corrupting their magic. If we kill them, we’re no better than he is.”
He didn’t argue. Just nodded, his expression grim. “Then we free them. One by one.”
“And if they don’t want to be free?” Silas asked.
“Then we make them,” I said, raising my hand again. “Because no one chooses slavery. Not even under a lie.”
We moved through the stronghold like fire through dry grass.
Kael in front, his blade cutting through the corrupted, his roar shaking the walls. Silas on the flank, his dagger swift, precise, silencing the ones who couldn’t be saved. And me in the center, my moonfire pulsing, burning through the shadow magic, revealing the truth beneath.
One by one, the Iron Fangs fell—not to death, but to *awakening*. Their eyes cleared. Their magic stabilized. Their auras brightened, no longer laced with the poison of Vexis’s mark.
And then—
We reached the inner sanctum.
The heart of the stronghold.
The chamber where the Alpha’s power was sealed, where the pack’s magic was born. The walls were lined with ancient carvings of wolves and moons, the floor etched with a massive sigil—the same one from the Blood Moon Ritual. The air was thick with magic, the scent of old blood and iron rising from the stone.
And there, in the center—
Vexis.
He stood over the sigil, his ageless face pale, his eyes like shards of ice. He wore a long, flowing robe of deepest black, the sigil of the Unseelie Court embroidered over his heart. In his hands—a dagger forged from shadow, its blade pulsing with stolen magic.
“You’re too late,” he said, his voice like cracked stone. “The ritual has already begun. The packs are mine.”
“Then end it,” I said, stepping forward. “Before I burn it from you.”
He smiled—slow, knowing, venomous. “You think you can stop me, little witch? You think your fire can touch what darkness has claimed?”
“I don’t think,” I said, raising my hand. “I *know*.”
Moonfire erupted from my fingertips, silver and wild, racing toward him—but he moved fast.
Too fast.
He sidestepped, the flame licking at the sigil instead. The stone cracked. The magic flared. And then—
The ground trembled.
The walls groaned.
And the corrupted Iron Fangs—dozens of them—charged.
Not at me.
Not at Kael.
At the *sigil*.
They threw themselves onto it, their bodies convulsing, their magic surging, feeding the ritual, feeding *him*.
“No!” I shouted, lunging.
But I was too late.
The sigil flared—crimson and black—and the magic surged, a wave of shadow that threw us back. Kael slammed into the wall, his blade clattering to the floor. Silas was thrown into the carvings, his body crumpling. And I—
I was on my knees, my magic flickering, my breath coming in shallow gasps.
Vexis stood over the sigil, his arms raised, his voice chanting in a language older than blood. The magic built, a storm of darkness that pressed down on my chest, on my soul, on the bond.
And then—
Kael moved.
Not with speed.
Not with strength.
With *sacrifice*.
He lunged—not at Vexis.
At the sigil.
And he *cut*.
His blade slashed across his palm, his blood—gold and glowing—spilling onto the stone. The Northern Pack’s magic. The Alpha’s power. The bond’s source.
The sigil screamed.
The shadow magic recoiled.
And the ritual—
It *shattered*.
Vexis roared, his body thrown back, the dagger flying from his hand. The corrupted Iron Fangs collapsed, their magic severed, their bodies still. The chamber was silent.
And Kael—
He was on his knees, his hand bleeding, his breath ragged.
“Kael!” I shouted, crawling to him.
He didn’t answer. Just looked at me, his gold eyes burning. “The bond… it’s tied to the pack’s magic. If I die… you’ll feel it.”
“Then don’t die,” I said, pressing my hands to his wound. “Not like this. Not for them.”
“For *you*,” he said, his voice rough. “Always for you.”
My breath caught.
And then—
I acted.
Not with magic.
Not with fire.
With my body.
I pressed my lips to his palm, not in passion, but in *healing*. My moonfire rose, not to burn, but to *mend*. Silver light curled from my fingertips, weaving through the wound, sealing the flesh, restoring the magic.
The bond flared—a surge of heat that made the ground tremble beneath our feet.
And then—
He pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me, holding me like I was something fragile. Something *his*.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his voice low. “You could’ve let me die.”
“And what kind of victory is built on sacrifice?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I didn’t come here to win. I came here to be *true*.”
He didn’t answer.
Just buried his face in my hair, his breath warm against my neck.
And then—
A whisper.
Not from the chamber.
Not from the corridor.
From *inside* my mind.
“Opal.”
Soft. Familiar. Laced with sorrow.
“You’re stronger than he knows. And he… he’s not what you think.”
My breath caught.
Kael froze.
Because he’d heard it too.
Mother.
She was alive.
And she was warning me.
“We’re not done,” I said, stepping back. “Vexis is still out there. And he won’t stop until the bond is broken.”
Kael stood, his hand still bleeding, his eyes burning. “Then we break him first.”
I didn’t answer.
Just reached up and brushed my thumb along the bond mark on his neck.
Fire shot through me.
But this time, it wasn’t just the bond.
It was *me*.
My power. My blood. My truth.
And for the first time, I didn’t fight it.
“The bond is changing,” I said, my voice low. “It’s not just tying us together. It’s *awakening* us.”
“Then let it,” he said, stepping closer. “Let it burn. Let it break. Let it remake us.”
“And if it destroys us?” I whispered.
“Then we’ll burn together,” he said, his voice rough. “But I won’t live in the dark.”
And then—
The stronghold erupted in cheers.
The Northern Pack had seen it—Kael’s sacrifice. My healing. The bond’s power. They weren’t just allies now.
They were *believers*.
And I knew—
The game had changed.
Because now, it wasn’t just about revenge.
It wasn’t just about the bond.
It was about *truth*.
And I would burn the world to get her back.
But as I walked beside Kael, his hand brushing mine, his presence a shadow at my back—
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the real danger wasn’t out there in the frozen wilds.
It was standing right beside me.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kill him anymore.
Or keep him.