The night pressed cold and heavy against the mountain keep, wrapping the Blackridge stronghold in a silence that seemed to breathe. Frost had begun to gather on the balcony rail, silvering the stone beneath Kael's hands. Far below, the valley stretched endlessly—an ocean of dark pines and mist, lit only by the faint shimmer of moonlight reflecting off the river that cut through the land like a blade.
Kael remained there long after his conversation with Ryden had ended, though neither of them had truly left it behind. The air between them carried the weight of old battles, shared scars, and the ache of something unspoken—something that still bound them even when words failed.
Behind them, the torches inside the war room flickered low, their orange glow dancing against walls carved with centuries of history—runes of old wolves, bloodlines, and battles won through sacrifice. Blackridge had always endured. But Kael's stillness tonight felt different, sharper.
Ryden leaned against the stone rail beside him, arms crossed. The night wind tugged at his cloak. "You really meant it, didn't you," he said quietly. "You'd burn the world for her."
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to. The tight set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders—every line of him spoke of restraint barely holding against the storm inside.
A long silence followed. Only the whisper of the wind through the pines broke it, carrying with it the distant howl of a lone wolf somewhere deep in the valley.
Then the door behind them creaked open, its iron hinges groaning in protest. A draft swept into the chamber, cold and biting, scattering a few loose parchments across the map table.
Footsteps followed—measured, light, purposeful.
Tessara Vayne, Kael's Delta, appeared in the doorway, bowing her head before stepping forward. Her black braid glimmered like obsidian in the torchlight, her armor still dusted with the gray of the northern roads. The faint scent of rain and steel clung to her. She carried herself with the kind of disciplined grace that spoke of years in Kael's command—unflinching, loyal, deadly.
"Alpha," she said, her voice clear but urgent. "Forgive the intrusion, but we have a problem."
Ryden straightened, sensing the shift instantly. "What kind of problem?"
Tessara's amber eyes flicked between them, her expression unreadable. "Silvercrest has locked Elara Hale in their dungeons."
The words hit the air like thunder splitting stone.
Kael turned sharply, his shadow slicing across the floor. "Say that again."
"She was taken after a council dispute," Tessara reported, stepping closer to the table. "The order came from Alpha Roran himself. Officially, they're calling it containment—claiming she's unstable. But that's a lie. It's control. The elders think she's… valuable."
Ryden's brows drew together, disbelief hardening into anger. "Valuable? To who? They've never treated her as one of their own. Not once."
Tessara's gaze darkened. "They're whispering that she's changing. That something inside her is awakening—and that if they can't understand it, they'll cage it."
Kael's eyes flashed, a storm barely caged within. "When did this happen?"
"Less than a day ago," Tessara replied. "Silvercrest's borders are quiet. Their scouts are spread thin across the southern trails, and the eastern ridge is poorly manned. If we move before dawn, we can reach their dungeon wing before the guards rotate."
The torchlight caught the scar along Kael's throat as he turned back to the map, his mind already dissecting possibilities—paths, escape routes, contingencies. His voice was calm, but the air around him felt ready to ignite. "How many can you gather?"
"Six of our best," Tessara said immediately. "Silent. Loyal. Fast."
Ryden's jaw tensed. "Kael…" He hesitated. "If we step onto Silvercrest land armed, that's not a rescue. That's a declaration of war."
Kael lifted his head slowly, his gaze burning with something cold and resolute. "Then they'll finally understand who they've provoked."
The room seemed to darken around him. The torches bent slightly in the wind, their flames wavering. Even the mountain seemed to hold its breath.
Tessara's lips curved faintly—not quite a smile, more like respect in its rawest form. "I'll have the unit ready in two hours," she said, bowing once more.
As she turned to leave, Kael's voice cut through the room, low and commanding. "No banners. No signals. No one speaks a word until she's safe. This stays in the shadows."
Tessara nodded once. "Understood, Alpha." Then she was gone—her silhouette swallowed by the dim corridor beyond the door, her footsteps fading into the mountain's heartbeat.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
Ryden let out a slow exhale, running a hand through his hair. "You realize this could spiral fast. Roran's council won't let this go quietly."
Kael didn't look up. His hand traced the map's ridgeline—his touch lingering over the mark that represented Silvercrest territory. The ink seemed to pulse under his fingers, like blood on parchment.
"If they want to play with fire," Kael said quietly, the words like a vow, "then I'll show them what it means to burn."