The portal snapped shut behind Elara with a whisper of displaced magic. The thick scent of pine and cold earth filled her lungs. She was home or at least, what was left of it.
The Silverclaw Packlands had once been a haven of proud warriors, towering forests, and howl-filled nights. Now, it lay in near ruin. The air hung thick with tension and rot, as if the land itself had been poisoned. Even the trees once vibrant and alive bore curling, blackened leaves. The Blight had touched this place. And it had left a scar.
She stepped forward, her boots crunching on dead leaves and cracked roots. Her cloak, still damp with Kael's shadows, fluttered behind her like a living thing. She had returned alone, but Kael's bond pulsed within her, quiet and watchful.
Elara pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the faint echo of his energy protective, simmering, and possessive. It grounded her.
"You made it back," a voice rasped behind her.
She spun around, teeth bared, magic coiling at her fingertips. But it wasn't a threat.
It was Talia, her younger sister. Or what remained of her.
Talia's once glowing skin was pale and veined with black streaks of Blight corruption. Her eyes, once bright blue, had dulled into a milky gray. And yet, her face split into a weak smile when she saw Elara.
"Elara… they said you were gone. That you were claimed by a demon. That you turned traitor."
Elara stepped closer, her voice softer than she expected. "I never turned against you, Talia. I was forced to leave. The curse"
"I know." Talia's voice trembled. "But they don't. They're scared. The Alpha is scared. And when wolves fear, they destroy."
Elara felt a cold knot form in her stomach. "What has he done?"
Talia glanced over her shoulder, then gestured for her to follow. "Come. I'll show you."
They moved through the twisted woods, past hollow dens and scorched stones. The Blight had touched more than the earth. Elara saw it in the broken houses, the silence of missing wolves, the eerie stillness where once the forest had sung.
Talia led her to a stone clearing surrounded by standing pines. In the center stood a stake driven deep into the earth, stained with old blood. Shackles hung from it, broken.
"This is where they tried to bind the curse from spreading," Talia said quietly. "They sacrificed Mira."
Elara froze. "Mira? She was just a pup."
"She was born with the mark," Talia whispered, tears gathering in her corrupted eyes. "Just like you. They thought if they bled it out of her, it would stop the magic from spreading. It didn't. It only angered it."
Elara fell to her knees, a scream caught in her throat. She had spent her whole life carrying the mark, never knowing it could be passed down never knowing she had left others behind to suffer in her absence.
"They hate you now," Talia said. "They think you brought this plague with you. That your bond with the demon prince will doom us all."
Elara rose slowly, fire flickering in her irises. "Then I'll give them something to fear and something to understand."
Before Talia could stop her, Elara turned toward the heart of the territory and began walking. The cursed pines groaned above her, but she moved like a shadow through them.
At the pack's stone hall, guards stood at the entrance, snarling. Recognition flared in their eyes, followed by fear.
"Elara Silverclaw?" one whispered. "She lives?"
"She's a traitor!" another barked. "Kill her before the curse spreads again!"
But she raised a single hand, and the ground shook. Her magic pulsed outward not of fire or ice, but something ancient, balanced, and untamed. The mark on her skin glowed golden red, and the guards staggered back.
"I'm not here to fight," she called. "But I will defend myself. Take me to Alpha Rhys."
The hall doors creaked open. An old figure stepped into the light Rhys, her former Alpha, and the one who had ordered her exile. His silver beard was longer, but his eyes were just as hard.
"Elara." His voice was ice. "You dare return?"
"I come not as your subject," she said, holding his gaze. "But as the bearer of truth and a warning."
Rhys laughed bitterly. "We don't need warnings from traitors. You mated a demon, turned your back on the Pack, and cursed our land. You think we'll hear your lies now?"
Elara stepped forward, every movement deliberate. "Then hear the truth: the Blight didn't start with me. It started with you. With the rituals, the blood sacrifices, the obsession with purity. You didn't stop the curse. You fed it."
Gasps echoed around the room. Some wolves looked uncertain. Others looked afraid. But Rhys's face turned red with fury.
"You dare accuse me of dark magic?"
"You turned your back on our own kind to preserve your throne," Elara continued. "You bled a child my bloodline. You let the rot in, and now it consumes you."
Rhys lunged forward, claws flashing but before he could strike, the entire room darkened. Shadows surged through the windows. The flames in the torches flickered, then turned black.
And then he arrived.
Kael stepped from a rip in reality, his cloak of fire and shadow billowing behind him. His eyes glowed like twin suns, burning with fury.
"You struck at my mate," the Demon Prince snarled. "Now you answer to me."