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Next we seek counsel from the werewolf elders. We find Vira seated by the fire, her ancient bones warmed by the flickering flames. Though time has bent her frame and clouded her sight, her keen mind remains sharp.
Vira reaches out as I approach, grasping my hands in her gnarled ones. Her milky eyes search my face, seeming to gaze directly into my spirit.
"Remember, child, your pack's greatest strength lies not in walls or wardings, but in its wellspring and warriors." Her aged voice resonates with quiet authority. "Trust in those, and you cannot fail."
Beside her, Calliope nods agreement, her silver hair shining in the firelight. "Our magic flows from the ancient wellspring," she intones, "and our might comes from the bonds between us. Remember this, and triumph will be yours."
I drink in their wisdom, letting it steady my spirit. Vira guided generations of Mountain Pack alphas before me. If she and Calliope believe in us, then the spirits of all who came before lend us their strength tonight.
"Thank you, elders." I bow my head respectfully to them. "Your faith gives me courage. With our pack standing united, Teller will soon be nothing but dust."
Vira squeezes my hands, her lined face creasing into a smile. "You have grown strong, child. Lead our people well, as I know you will."
Her pride kindles warmth in my heart. I will not fail this woman who mentored so many of my ancestors. Her legacy lives on through me.
Strengthened by the elders' trust, I turn with fresh resolve to face the night's coming trials. The full moon already climbs the sky, silvering the woods that conceal our enemy. But under her light, we shall be victorious.
The elders' wisdom bolsters me for the trial ahead. With our pack united behind us, Teller will fall.
Under the moon's bright light, we travel quickly through the woods in our wolf forms. The night air is crisp, carrying the scents of pine and loam. Our footsteps make no sound as we run, fleet and phantom-like.
At the border of our territory, we halt. Power thrums beneath my paws where Thale's wards are carved into the earth. As we all shift back to our human forms, I feel trepidation at the task before me. Even the coven's magic spells may not be enough to keep me safe tonight.
One by one, my mates draw me into a fierce embrace before our paths diverge.
"Stay safe, my wild one," Lucian murmurs, his angular face etched with grim purpose.
Thale's massive arms surround me, his earthy scent steadying my nerves. "Have faith in yourself, dear heart," he rumbles. "Our strength goes with you."
Adar crushes me close, eyes blazing. "Make that bastard suffer, little flame," he growls. I cling to him, letting his heat temper me like a blade before battle.
When we reluctantly part, Everett braces my shoulders, his sea glass eyes solemn. "Trust the moon to light your way," he intones. I cover his broad hand with mine, drawing courage from his steadfast spirit.
Alone now, I slip into the darkness between the trees. The rocky foothills rise ahead, dotted with canvas tents—the enemy's camp.
I creep silently upward, a ghost drifting ever nearer its target. The tents sprawl haphazardly across the hillside, banked fires casting flickering light on the sleeping soldiers.
But not all of them are asleep. Two betas pace a sentry path around the perimeter, eyes reflecting the fire glow. I freeze behind a boulder until they pass, then slink onward into the camp.
The discontented murmuring of the stolen betas reaches my sharp ears as I dart between tents toward the large command pavilion at the center.
"...promised us territory. But we've won nothing but more battles. We'll never be a real pack."
Their resentment is palpable. Good—let doubt take root. Their leader's failure will be his undoing.
At last I reach the central tent. Crouching in shadow, I spy the vampire Sybil going inside to confer with Teller. Their closeness confirms he is the Master who commands her.
One step closer to ending this. I head back to plan our next move. Teller's life is measured in hours now.
I creep close to a campfire where a group of Teller's stolen betas are eating and drinking. Their resentment simmers beneath the surface as they speak.
"General promised us land and mates when we joined him," one grumbles. "But we've seen nothing but more blood."
"It's fucked up," another spits. "While the mountain wolves get new territory and power." He tosses back a swig of liquor. "We're owed what he promised us."
Their discontent is palpable in the air. Good—let doubt take root. Their leader's failure to deliver on promises will be his undoing.
I steal away, heart pounding. Then from the shadows behind Teller's tent, I learn something even more valuable: the secret behind his stolen power.
