The smoke hadn't even cleared when dawn broke over the valley.
Ash drifted in the wind like black snow.
Everywhere I looked, wolves lay wounded, walls shattered, and the ground steamed with the scent of blood and silver.
The rogues were gone : for now.
But something darker had woken in their place.
I stood at the edge of the ruins, arms crossed, staring at the horizon where my brother had vanished.
Elias.
A ghost I had buried, now walking in flesh again.
Behind me, Damian approached quietly. His arm was bandaged, his shirt torn and streaked with blood, but he moved like someone who refused to feel pain.
"You should rest" he said.
I didn't turn. "Rest is for the dead. And we're not that lucky yet."
He sighed : that low, deep sound that once used to calm me. "Aria, she needs you steady. Not consumed."
"I'm not consumed."
But even I could hear the lie.
Down in the courtyard, Lyra slept inside the healer's den. Her small hand twitched against the sheets, glowing faintly with that same gold-and-crimson shimmer.
Every few seconds, a spark jumped from her fingers, and the healers flinched.
"She's changing" murmured Kellan. "Whatever's inside her, it's growing stronger."
I nodded slowly. "We need to know what he meant. The ancient one."
Damian's voice came from the doorway. "I think I do."
We turned toward him. His eyes were darker than usual, the amber almost gone.
"The Silver Moon archives spoke of it," he said. "A forgotten bloodline : wolves who once mixed with something older. Not gods. Not demons. Something between. They called them the Primordials."
My stomach clenched. "That's impossible. They were erased from history."
"Exactly" Damian said quietly. "Because they were too powerful to control."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If Elias has a drop of that blood and Lyra carries the rest, he'll use her to awaken whatever's left of the ancient one."
The room went still.
"So what do we do?" Kellan asked.
Damian's gaze found mine. "We go to the ruins in the north. The Blood Moon will rise there in three nights. That's where your brother's heading."
I hated that he was right. I hated that his plan made sense.
And most of all, I hated that part of me still trusted the sound of his voice.
Later, when the others were gone, I found him outside, leaning against the old stone archway.The light caught the scar across his jaw : one I hadn't noticed before.
"When did you get that?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He glanced over. "The night I realized you weren't coming back."
I didn't answer. The wind filled the silence between us, carrying the smell of rain and smoke.
He looked down at his hands. "You think I don't remember what I did to you. I do. Every day."
"Regret doesn't change the past" I said softly.
"No. But maybe it can change the ending."
I almost laughed, almost. "You still think you can rewrite it?"
He took a step closer. "Maybe I just want a chance to stand beside you this time instead of against you."
The words hit something deep inside me : something I'd spent years locking away.
For a long moment, we just stood there, two broken things bound by history and war, pretending we weren't shaking.
Then the ground trembled.
A deep, resonant pulse rolled through the valley. The sky darkened, clouds spiraling in unnatural patterns.
The Blood Moon had begun to rise.
From the healer's den came Lyra's scream : high, raw, and inhuman.Flames erupted around her bed, curling into the shape of wings.
I ran. Damian was right behind me.
When I reached her, she was levitating inches above the sheets, her eyes glowing pure white. The air vibrated like a heartbeat.
"Lyra !" I shouted, but the wind swallowed my voice.
Then she spoke : not with her own voice, but with one that sounded ancient and endless.
"The blood has awakened. The gates will open."
And just like that, every torch in the fortress blew out.
Far away, beneath the mountains, Elias knelt before a massive stone door carved with runes that pulsed red in time with Lyra's heart.When the final rune lit, the earth itself whispered a name the world had forgotten.
"Aramaris : the first wolf."