“A house?” My brows furrow as I stride toward him. My balls ache from the strain, the friction between my thighs doing nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. “Humans built a house on our lands?”
Aeson shakes his head, crossing his arms. “No. A vólkin house, grown from the trees and land nearby.”
A vólkin house? On the edge of our territory? My jaw tightens as I tilt my head, narrowing my eyes in thought. That doesn’t make sense. No vólkin would grow a house without my knowledge or my permission. No vólkin would go beyond the border. It’s not even possible to grow a whole home in such a short amount of time. The barrier fell just a few days ago. Unless this vólkin is not from Ávera.
I inhale slowly, forcing myself to focus, to think. “Call Mina and the others,” I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion. “My mate will not stay alone in this state.” My claws flex at my sides as the memory of that scent burns in my mind. “And add two more guards to the entrance.” My tone drops, a low growl lacing every word. “No male comes near this home.”
Aeson nods. “It will be done.”
I watch him leave, my body still thrumming with energy as my gaze shifts back to Noël resting in the nest. Mine. Always mine. Whatever this house means, whoever left their mark on her crystal, I will get all the answers.
We sprint through the forest, our paws flying over the ground as we cross beyond where the barrier once stood. It’s like stepping into a world abandoned by life itself. The grass beneath us is dark, its color sickly and unnatural. The trees are no better, lifeless things that seem to sag under their own decay.
This is what happens when the balance is disrupted.
Elder Aïna’s words echo in my mind, a grim reminder of the world we inherited. She spoke of how, long before the barrier appeared—when even she was just a youngling—the earth began to cry out in pain. Its beauty faded. The fruits grew smaller and weaker. The soil became barren, the rivers slower, and the forests less vibrant. The land itself bore the scars of imbalance.
Generations ago, long before my parents were even born, the world was different. Vólkins and human females lived as mates, their union bringing harmony. Together, they ignored the greed of human males who sought power and control. The greed of those males twisted the world as they oppressed their own females and ignored the balance of nature.
The vólkins of Ávera—their claws and hearts bound by peace—did nothing to stop it. And then it was too late.
And so it was. Before we could restore the balance, the barrier rose, sealing us off from the outside world. We could do nothing, powerless to reverse the damage.
But no more.
My mate will stand strong. We will bond, our souls will be tied together, and we will restore this balance.
I will never let anyone destroy this land again. My pups, our pups, will be born into a world renewed. They will growup running through healthy forests, breathing clean air, tasting the sweetness of fat deer. They will know the joy of a land in harmony.
The thought fuels my strides, my claws flexing as the trees blur past us. No one will stand in our way.
Kaël freezes in his tracks, his eyes wide and unblinking. His entire posture stiffens as though he’s seen a female.
I stop beside him, my fur bristling with irritation. “What is it now, Kaël?”
Aeson and Zephyr skid to a halt behind me, both rising onto their hind paws, their gazes sharp and scanning for danger.
Kaël turns to me. “I have NEVER in my LIFE seen... chicken feet this huge!”
I blink. “Chicken feet?”
“What are you talking about?” Aeson says, crouching as he scans the forest floor.
Zephyr strides forward. “Kaël, stop being dramatic. There’s no—” His eyes drop to the ground.
I step closer, my patience stretched thin, ready to berate them both. “Kaël, where did you even??—”
And then I see it.
Deep grooves in the earth, the unmistakable imprints of giant talons. Massive, clawed prints stretch across the forest floor, each one as large as a vólkin’s home. My jaw tightens as my gaze follows the trail of absurdly large tracks disappearing into the dense forest ahead.
“What the...” Aeson mutters, inspecting the marks. “These are fresh.”
Zephyr’s ears flick back. “Are we... are we seriously looking at chicken feet this size?”
Kaël, no longer worried about being reprimanded, gestures wildly at the prints. “GINORMOUS chicken feet! Look at them! How is this even possible?”
I stare at the tracks. “These aren’t... chickens,” I growl, my voice wary. “Something’s wrong. No creature with claws like this belongs in this forest. Not naturally.”
