Page 60 of A Sunwoven Ascent

It was breathless and charged, and though he already ached to have her alone, he knew the moment was not yet theirs to keep. Still, this was enough. Perfect in its own way. When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing unsteady, and her eyes bright with something that gripped him deep in the chest.

Then she smiled.

A gentle laugh passed between them as he rested his forehead against hers.

Finally.

Chapter 28

Mokkvyrn Forest did not rush them. It closed around them little by little, branches weaving overhead until daylight dimmed into a constant twilight and the air grew heavy with the scent of pine and wet soil. The path narrowed beneath towering trunks, roots breaking through the ground like knuckles and forcing the packs to keep close. Wolves moved ahead and behind while the horses stayed near the center, and at night the fires were kept small. Most days felt cold and dim, and there was little time for training as they worked their way through bramble and shadow. Their focus stayed on moving forward, watching, and surviving.

It should have felt ominous. Instead, it felt… peaceful. That unsettled Evelyne more than any shadow ever had.

She found herself smiling often as they traveled, watching Alaric and Heidara drift away from camp at every opportunity, always pretending they were terribly subtle about it. They were not. Heidara would tug him toward the trees with a muttered excuse, Alaric would follow with that faint, crooked smile Evelyne remembered from years ago, and moments later they would reappear flushed and far too pleased with themselves.

It made her heart ache—in the best way. After everything they had survived, seeing them choose one another so openly felt like a small miracle. Alaric laughed more now and Evelyne found she could watch them without a single trace of jealousy. Whatever she and Alaric had once been was long behind them. They were friends. Family, even.

She herself felt stronger with every passing day. Her muscles no longer protested the long hours of travel. Running in wolf form felt less like effort and more like instinct as her body learned the land in a way words never could. Hunting had been the hardest part—learning not just how to take down prey, but how to finish it. Nathan and Kaldrek had been patient while guiding her through the final moments until she could push past the hesitation.

The first time she did, she cried afterward. The second time, she did not.

That growth came with its own weight.

At night, when the camp fell quiet and the forest began its whispering, the nightmares returned. They always led her back to Kaldrek, to his magic rising too fast and too fiercely, warping into something it was never meant to become. She would wake with her heart pounding, shaken by the awful certainty that she had seen something real. And each time, she told herself it was only exhaustion. After all, she had been helping him practice every evening, first with water, then with fire coaxed carefully from embers, then with soil drawn upward only enough to feel its resistance. Nothing reckless. Nothing dangerous.

Even so, the dreams stayed with her, though she forced them aside and fixed her thoughts on what was good.

The moon ritual beneath Mokkvyrn’s canopy felt different from the others Evelyne had known, mostly because this time there was no attack, no screaming, no blood. Wolves danced barefoot to the drums while laughter moved through the trees and voices rose in song. Evelyne drank, danced, and laughed until her sides hurt.

She danced with Alaric and Heidara, with Nathan and Reyna, and even with Obren, who told exaggerated stories about his younger years with Ravena’s daughter that made everyone groan and laugh in equal measure.

Kaldrek watched the whole thing with the look of a male trying very hard to be reasonable and not always succeeding. Now and then his gaze would snag on Obren if he drifted too close, or on any other male bold enough to linger near her for too long. He never said a word, but Evelyne could feel the flare of instinct each time it struck him. It was almost endearing. Once mated, wolves did not stray. That was older than law, and everyone knew it.

At least Beau kept away now. Whenever he passed, stiff-backed and silent, still plainly smarting from Ravena’s rebuke, Heidara would catch Evelyne’s eye and snicker. Evelyne supposed that counted as progress. Perhaps he was finally being forced to grow up.

Cillian was changing too. Holden made a habit of pulling him away from solitude, out from behind his books and shaded rocks, and into conversation, company, and shared meals. At first Cillian resisted. Then, little by little, he began to smile again. One evening Evelyne watched him laugh with Nathan and Reyna, the sound open and real, and felt something in her chest ease. She knew he had not forgiven himself for Ty, and perhaps he never would. Still, he was present again. As the forest thinned and the air began to shift, even Cillian seemed to feel that home was drawing near.

That knowledge buoyed them all.

In the coming days, the packs would part ways. Mokkvyrn’s edge was close now, and beyond it lay the southern territories, along with whatever waited for them there. Evelyne would miss the Glaciermaw wolves and their blunt humor. Brief though their time together had been, she would miss Moonshade as well, apart from Beau. Still, the packs had promised to meet again. They would have to, if they hoped to stand together once more when the land was finally cleansed of evil. The thought of that promise made her smile.

And yet, as she stood beneath the trees one evening, watching firelight flicker across familiar faces, uncertainty stirred quietly in her chest. Evil was never so easily driven out. It did not announce its end. It simply adapted and waited. Mokkvyrn had given them peace, strangely enough, but peace, she had learned, was rarely meant to last. As the forest slowly began to release them, Evelyne found herself wondering how much of that peace would remain once they stepped beyond the trees.

Chapter 29

The Glaciermaw pack was leaving. Evelyne had known it was coming, yet watching them prepare to depart tightened something in her chest all the same.

The Moonshade pack had left at first light, just as the sun’s pale glow crested the horizon. Their farewell had been brief and Beau lingered at the edge of it, clearly eager to be gone, offering little more than a curt nod before turning away.

Coren and Ravena, however, had not left so quietly. They offered sincere words of encouragement, and Ravena’s attention remained on Evelyne in a way that unsettled and steadied her all at once, as though the Moonshade alpha saw not only who she was, but who she might yet become. Gratitude stirred in Evelyne’s chest. Their time together had been brief, yet it had mattered. And more than once, she found herself wanting the same quiet, unshakable strength Ravena carried so effortlessly.

For a selfish heartbeat, she had wished the Moonshade pack would travel alongside Ironwolf longer. She wanted more time. More understanding of what it meant to be a wolf. But Moonshade’s path had been clear and they were driven by their own battles, their own reasons to hunt the darkness. Evelyne could not ask them to linger simply because she was not ready to let them go. So they parted with promises to cross paths again.

And now Ironwolf would stand alone once more.

“Ahhh, Heidara,” Obren sighed dramatically, brushing a hand through his hair as though the mountains themselves were mourning him. “I know you’re going to miss this beautiful face.”

Heidara rolled her eyes, though her smile betrayed her. “Extremely, Obren.”