Chapter 19: Secrets Beneath the Pines
Zach's Point of View
2009, (one day before Crescent Moon)
The resthouse stood in solemn silence, veiled by tall pines whose tops swayed with the whisper of an unending wind. Thick vines coiled like serpents over its moss-covered roof, the green strands shifting with every passing breeze. Tucked away near the border of the Eastern and Southern regions, the abandoned retreat was far from prying eyes—forgotten by time, yet sturdy enough to shield those bound together by fate.
The air here felt different. The forest's pulse was slower, heavier, as though every root and branch remembered wars long past. Even the crows watched from their perches with unblinking eyes, as if judging whether we belonged.
I leaned against the worn wooden frame of the porch, letting the chill seep into my skin. The early dawn's frost bit deep, but I welcomed it. Every sharp breath was proof I was still breathing, still standing.
Inside, Bri and Mother Zita had claimed the larger room, its faded drapes drawn against the morning light. Luna had chosen to remain outside, curled in wolf form at the steps like a sentinel, her golden fur stirring in the breeze. Fenric and Wulfric, Alpha Blake's sons, rotated shifts guarding the perimeter. Blake himself sat cross-legged under the old cedar at the back, his posture unshakable, his mind somewhere far beyond sight.
We were safe—for now.
But no one here believed safety was permanent. Not with Lucian Conri so close. Not with the scent of war lingering just beyond the horizon.
I glanced inside. The dim firelight flickered over Bri's sleeping face. His brow twitched, his breathing uneven. Dreams—or nightmares—clung to him. He didn't belong in this fight. Neither did Mother Zita.
But fate doesn't take volunteers. It drafts you whether you're ready or not.
By sunrise, the call went out. A howl—deep, commanding—rolled through the trees like a drumbeat before battle.
One by one, wolves emerged from the winding trails, stepping into the clearing behind the resthouse. They came in human form, their eyes sharp and movements precise, each carrying the quiet weight of discipline. Boots crunched over frost-hardened grass, weapons glinted at belts, and low voices murmured greetings laced with concern.
The gathering of the Eastern Elite had begun.
I stood beside Luna as we approached the circle forming in the center of the clearing. Alpha Blake stood at its heart—broad-shouldered, silver-haired, his presence steady as the mountain behind him. On his right stood Fenric, eyes narrowed with thought; on his left, Wulfric, silent and immovable, arms crossed in quiet judgment.
Around them were warriors forged by decades of battle—scarred veterans whose faces read like maps of old wars, their braids and beads telling stories I didn't yet understand. Younger wolves stood among them, eager but wary. From the elder with clouded eyes to the sharp-eyed youth gripping his spear, all had been drawn here by the shadow spreading from the South.
When Luna and I stepped into the ring, eyes locked on me. Assessing. Weighing.
Blake raised his hand. His voice cut through the cold like a blade.
"This is Zachary Artesian, son of the North. He carries a burden we cannot yet name—but he must be protected. For he may be the only one capable of standing against what comes."
The words hit me heavier than I'd expected.
From the far side, an older she-wolf with hair streaked silver and eyes like polished stone spoke up. "Who are the humans he brings with him? Do they know what we are?"
Before I could answer, Mother Zita stepped forward, her cane tapping once against the frozen earth.
"I have known of your kind longer than many of you have drawn breath," she said evenly. "My purpose is my own—but I will not betray you."
A younger male snorted. "And the boy?"
Bri, who stood by the firepit with his arms folded, shifted under their stares.
"I don't know anything," he said truthfully. "I woke in the woods when I was a child. I survived with the trees, the wind, the animals. I never saw another human until Zach found me."
Fenric stepped forward, moving with slow precision, like a predator circling prey—not with hunger, but with curiosity. He tilted his head and sniffed the air.
Bri stiffened. "Hey—excuse me?!"
"Your scent," Fenric murmured, frowning. "It's wrong."
"Excuse me?!" Bri repeated, louder now.
I moved forward instinctively, heat flaring in my chest. "Back off."
Fenric held up a hand, his eyes never leaving Bri's. "He's not just human."
The words froze the clearing. Even Luna's golden gaze sharpened.
Blake's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
Fenric inhaled again, slow and deliberate, as though he could taste the truth in the air.
"He's half-wolf. Half-human. And… old blood. Very old. I don't know how—but he's one of us."
Murmurs swelled around the ring. A few wolves stepped back as if distance could erase what they'd just heard.
Bri blinked rapidly, his face pale. "That's not possible. I—I can't shift. I've never—"
"You were raised without a pack," Luna said gently. "You wouldn't have known."
"My parents—"
"You don't remember your parents," Fenric finished softly, his earlier edge replaced with something almost like sympathy. "Do you?"
Bri's voice was small. "Only the trees. I just… woke up one day. Alone."
"Someone hid you," Blake said grimly. "Someone who didn't want you found."
I looked at Luna. "You knew something."
She met my gaze without flinching. "I knew he was different. That's why I let him stay at your side. But not this. Not his bloodline."
Bri stepped back from all of us, his eyes wide and glassy. "So what am I? Some kind of mistake?"
"No," Fenric said firmly. "You are rare. Possibly important. We don't yet know how. But you are not a mistake."
Blake's voice cut through the tension. "Enough. We have no time to untangle old secrets while war marches toward our borders."
The murmurs faded.
"The attack will come at dawn two days from now," Blake continued. "Lucian leads a legion of rogues—wild, unbound wolves with no law, no loyalty. They strike with chaos and vanish into the trees."
"They won't find ghosts here," one of the older warriors growled.
"Good," Blake said. "Because we will not run. Not this time."
I straightened. "Then we fight."
Blake's sharp gaze pinned me. "You will train until then. With Wulfric and Fenric. You may have power, Artesian, but power without control is destruction."
I almost smiled. "I've heard that before."
I glanced toward Bri, who still lingered on the edge of the circle, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He wasn't just Bri anymore. He wasn't just a stray I'd taken in.
Neither of us were who we thought we were.
The storm was coming.
And this time, I wouldn't be running.