Page 158 of A Sunwoven Ascent

“Breathe,” her mother murmured. “We are here. You are not alone.”

Celeste rubbed soft circles between her shoulders as Evelyne fought to steady herself, but no breath, no comfort, no gentle hand could soothe what had been torn open inside her.

She needed Kaldrek.

And he was lost.

Chapter 63

Morning came without peace. The sky over Caltheris had faded to a thin, colorless gray, but Duskwood Manor still felt wrapped in the same darkness the Noskari had brought with them the night before. Smoke drifted low across the fields in bitter ribbons, carrying the charred remnants of what had burned through the long hours before dawn. No one had truly slept. Not the Duskwoods, not Ironwolf, not the Oathroot wolves who had refused to leave Evelyne’s side. They had spent the night dragging bodies from blood-soaked floors, tending wounds, scrubbing ruined stone, and feeding the dead Noskari to flame so no trace of their corruption could rot into the land.

Holden stood at the edge of the broken courtyard wall, staring across the damp fields as weak morning light spread over them. His jaw ached from how tightly he had held it through the night, and every inch of him felt wrung out, half flayed by exhaustion. Still, he could not bring himself to stop moving, stop thinking, or stop reliving what he had seen in the grove.

Kaldrek. His alpha. His brother in every way that had ever mattered. Gone.

Not dead. No, what Holden had witnessed had been worse than death. He had watched Kaldrek rise with black eyes and a wrong, terrible stillness in his face, power clinging to him like a second skin. Holden had heard his voice and known it belonged to him, and yet did not. Then the bond that had always hummed through Ironwolf, the tether that held the pack to its center, had gone silent all at once. The emptiness of it was an injury of its own. Every wolf felt it. They moved as if stunned, their instincts still clawing for something no longer there.

Holden dragged a hand over his face and exhaled sharply. If he sat too long with that feeling, he would either put his fist through the nearest wall or break apart entirely, and neither would help anyone. So he kept moving.

He had already checked on Aurelia three times before sunrise and hated himself a little more each time. Her wounds had closed with unnatural speed, the wolf in her healing in hours what should have taken days, but being near her again had brought that maddening sweetness back with a vengeance. She had thanked him once, quietly, when no one else was close enough to hear. Then, when he lingered a second too long and the scent of her sharpened his thoughts into something dangerous, she narrowed her eyes and told him he was making everything worse simply by standing there and should go make himself useful. He had not known whether to laugh or apologize. In the end, he did neither. He left before he could embarrass himself further.

Now there was no room for that particular misery. The day had to be used. They needed a plan before night fell again, because Holden had no doubt the Noskari would return. The first attack had not been their true assault. It had been an opening strike, a distraction, a trap meant to take Kaldrek from them. Tonight, they would come in force. Holden knew it in his gut, and he needed to do something before that certainty became another grave.

He pushed away from the wall and strode back toward the manor, his boots splashing through damp grass and streaks of diluted blood. Inside, the house no longer resembled the polished, elegant place it had been before the ball. Broken glass had been swept into corners, bloodstains still marked the floors, and the air smelled of herbs, smoke, soap, and grief. Servants moved quietly through the corridors, pale and red-eyed, while guards gathered in uneasy clusters, some armed, some bandaged, all wearing the rattled expressions of men who had glimpsed a world they were never meant to see.

He found Evelyne in the sitting room, thankfully still inside the manor, though it had taken half the Ironwolf pack to keep her there. She was determined to reach Kaldrek, and Holden understood the need better than he wanted to. She stood near one of the tall windows in a gown Heidara must have helped her into, though the silk was wrinkled from the long night and stained at the hem. She looked carved from grief and fury, held upright by spite alone. Her face had been scrubbed clean, but nothing could erase the swelling around her eyes. Heidara stood beside her, one shoulder braced against the wall, arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression harder than Holden had ever seen it. Zade lingered a few steps behind them, silent as a shadow.

Alaric and Cillian spoke in low voices near the hearth, while Aurelia sat stiff-backed in a nearby chair, one hand pressed to her temple as if holding herself together required effort. Holden hated to take away even this small moment of quiet, but quiet would not save them.

“We’re meeting in Velenshire,” he said without preamble, his voice rough from smoke and disuse. Every head turned toward him. “The Shaw fields. Near the tree. Near the witches. If they come again tonight, that is where we make our stand.”

No one argued.

Holden looked to Alaric. “I need your father’s men. All who know enough to keep their mouths shut and still hold a blade. Send word to Charise Hallowell too. Tell her to gather every witch she trusts and get them to Velenshire now.”

Alaric’s face hardened, but he nodded at once. “I’ll do it.”

“We should bring the Shaw guards too,” Cillian said. His voice was quieter than usual, but not uncertain. There was steel in him now, something Holden had noticed taking root over the past weeks. Something of his father. “And ours.”

“Yes,” Holden said. “And every human fool wandering the streets of Velenshire needs to be indoors before sunset. I don’t care what excuse you give them. Fire. Plague. Whatever works. I just don’t want any of them outside when darkness falls.”

Cillian nodded.

“There’s no use,” Evelyne said quietly.

The room went still.

Aurelia looked up. “How can you say that?”

Evelyne turned from the window, and the defeat on her face struck harder than any wound Holden had taken the night before. “His mind is gone.” Her voice sounded hollow. “And if what you saw last night is true, if he really is their anchor, then we have nothing strong enough to face him. He may have more power now than Vaelora ever did.”

Holden shook his head. “I’m not giving up on my alpha.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Her eyes glistened, but her voice held. “I’m saying we need to think beyond fighting them. We need to think about how to weaken him, or none of this matters.”

She was right, and Holden hated it. He had spent the entire night turning the question over in his mind and had found nothing.

“What can weaken him?” Aurelia asked.