She could still feel every moment, like her body had memorized him.
Whatwasit that she wanted? Did she truly want him, or was this just another reckless moment? Another impulsive decision waiting to go wrong?
And then there were the words he’d murmured.You drive me mad.
Had he meant them? Because he had looked and acted like a man barely holding himself together. Like whatever he felt had been locked away for too long, and only sheer will was keeping it contained.
Evelyne took a sharp breath and dragged the damp cloth over her neck one final time before tossing it aside. It did nothing to cool the fire smoldering beneath her skin.
She pulled a brush through her hair and left it to dry in loose waves before settling onto her cot with Cillian’s book. Her fingers traced the worn cover before she opened it and scanned the familiar pages. She was getting closer to unraveling the prophecy. She could feel it. This book wasn’t just the ramblings of an old scholar or some forgotten fairytale. It was a clue, a puzzle waiting to be solved. And somehow, it had ended up in her hands—the hands of someone who had seen the darkness for herself, who had already watched it take someone she cared about.
No. Cillian wasn’t lost. Not yet. He had to still be in there.
The words blurred slightly as she stared at them.A keeper of light to smother the darkness.But who, or what, held this light? Was it light at all, or something hidden beneath the surface? What did it all mean?
At least the symbols were beginning to make sense, piece by piece. The tree, she now recognized, was the Solwyn Tree—the sacred place where the Great Rite was performed back in Velenshire. The eyes had taken longer to figure out. She had pieced that together in the stillness of night, lying on her cot and going over every detail of Cillian’s sketches. She knew those eyes. Predatory. Horrifying. The eyes of a wolf that brought death.
But the moon—she still couldn’t make sense of that part. Maybe it was connected to the celestial event Kaya and Vaelora had been born under. It seemed possible. Still, why had Cillian been seeing these symbols at all? Evelyne frowned at the page and turned to the next as if the truth might finally rise from the paper and speak for itself.
A distant voice cut through her thoughts, and she shut the book.
Kaldrek had gathered the pack.
Evelyne dressed quickly, pulling on a set of dry leathers before stepping into the muted light of late afternoon. The rain had settled into a light mist, and heavy clouds loomed overhead. At the center of the clearing, Kaldrek stood tall. Beside him, Obren lingered with his two men, looking far too satisfied for a moment so tense. Evelyne folded her arms and turned her attention to the pack gathering around them, all eyes fixed on their alpha.
At last, he spoke.
“We’ve received word from the Glaciermaw pack that the northern mountain ranges outside of Nerathar have been overrun by a Noskari army,” Kaldrek announced. His expression was calm, though his words stirred through the wolves around him. Murmurs rippled through the Ironwolf pack, and hushed gasps slipped between them.
Evelyne’s heart pounded. An army? She didn’t fully grasp the implications, but an army of Noskari could only mean one thing: death.
“Half of the Glaciermaw pack has been murdered or corrupted by Vaelora’s Noskari. The survivors have abandoned their homeland and are seeking allies.”
A sick feeling settled in Evelyne’s stomach. Half the pack was gone. Families torn apart, children and mates either lost or twisted into something monstrous. And yet, despite the devastating news, the Ironwolf pack remained composed. Why weren’t they panicking?
Her eyes landed on Kaldrek. He looked calm and steady, like someone they could all count on. She wondered if he was why the pack stayed strong, holding together like iron. How could anyone be afraid when their alpha looked like that?
Beside her, Alaric’s frame was tense, and she knew him well enough to sense the fear hidden underneath.What chance did their home have if Vaelora could destroy a northern pack?
“And you trust his word, Alpha?” one of the elders asked, distaste evident in his tone.
Kaldrek gave a firm nod in response just as Obren stepped forward. His arrogant smirk from before was now replaced by a far more serious expression.
“We all know there’s been… history between my pack and the Ironwolf members,” Obren said. “But I swear to you, this is not a lie. Now is the time to put aside our past. If we don’t fight back together, we’ll all be slaughtered separately.”
Silence fell over the camp.
“How?” One of the Ironwolf warriors stepped forward, gaze locked on Kaldrek. “How do we defeat an army of Noskari?”
Kaldrek’s shoulders tensed, but his face remained impassive. When he spoke, it was with lethal certainty.
“We train. We find other shifters. And we fight.” His eyes swept across the pack. “The worst thing we can do is hide. Because if we don’t stop them, they will eventually come for us. And then what? What happens to our families? To our pups?”
A shudder ran through Evelyne. The pups. The children of their packs. Would they be drained of blood to fuel Vaelora’s growing army? Or worse—would they become Noskari? The idea made bile rise in her throat.
“I say we rip the fuckers to pieces,” Holden growled.
A surge of fierce agreement erupted through the pack, their voices rising in battle-hungry approval. Even Obren and the two men flanking him, likely his second and third in command, smiled at the sound. But Evelyne couldn’t share in their bloodthirsty excitement. All she could think about were the wolves Glaciermaw had lost—the ones twisted bycorruption, the ones who had become the monsters they were now being called to fight.
