Calyn's POV
The Deadlands smell like death.
Every step we take deeper into this cursed forest makes my skin crawl. The trees are twisted and black, their branches reaching toward us like skeletal fingers. The ground beneath our feet feels wrong—too soft, like it might swallow us whole.
And Morgana just keeps walking, her staff tapping against the earth, humming some terrible song under her breath.
"How much farther?" I finally ask. My voice sounds too loud in this silent place.
"Patience, Void child." Morgana doesn't turn around. "We'll reach my home when we reach it. Unless you'd prefer to go back and face the Council?"
I shut my mouth and keep walking.
Rowan stays close beside me, and I can feel his tension. He hasn't said a word since we crossed the border. I want to ask him what he's thinking, but Rhea catches my eye and shakes her head slightly.
Not now, her expression says.
Finally, after what feels like hours, we emerge into a clearing. In the center stands a massive tree—easily ten times bigger than any normal tree, with roots that disappear into the ground like underground rivers. Carved into its trunk is a door.
"Home sweet home," Morgana says cheerfully. She waves her staff and the door swings open. "Come in, come in. We have much to discuss."
The inside of the tree is impossibly large. The walls are lined with shelves holding jars of strange things—glowing liquids, dried plants, things that move even though they're trapped in glass. A fire burns in a stone pit at the center, even though there's no chimney.
Magic. Everything here reeks of it.
Morgana settles into a chair made of twisted roots and studies me with those glowing green eyes. "Sit."
It's not a request. I sit.
Rowan and Rhea remain standing, alert and ready to fight if needed.
"So," Morgana begins, "you want to learn control. You want to stop being a monster." Her smile is sharp. "But first, you need to understand what you are. Tell me, child—what do you know about Voids?"
"That we're extinct," I say quietly. "That we consume power. That we're too dangerous to exist."
"All true. But incomplete." She leans forward. "Voids aren't born, you see. They're made. Created by a very specific set of circumstances during pregnancy. Your mother was exposed to dark magic while she carried you—an attack meant to kill her. Instead, it changed you. Twisted your wolf into something new. Something hungry."
My blood runs cold. "Someone tried to kill my mother?"
"Oh yes. A rival pack, jealous of your father's progressive policies." Morgana waves her hand dismissively. "They failed, obviously. But the magic lingered. And you? You absorbed it. Became it."
"So I'm not just born wrong," I whisper. "I was created by dark magic."
"Don't sound so tragic about it," Morgana snaps. "Being a Void makes you powerful beyond measure. You could drain every Alpha in this world and become unstoppable. Why do you think they fear you?"
"Because that's exactly what the prophecy says I'll do," I counter. "Consume everything until there's nothing left."
Morgana's eyes flash. "Ah yes. The prophecy. Let me guess—your brother told you about it? Said you were born to end all wolves?"
"Yes."
"Typical." She snorts. "Prophecies are warnings about what could happen, not what will happen. But frightened little wolves never understand the difference."
"So I'm not destined to destroy everyone?" Hope flares in my chest.
"Oh, you absolutely could destroy everyone," Morgana says cheerfully. "You have that potential. But whether you do or not depends entirely on one thing: choice. And that, Void child, is why you're here. To learn to choose."
Rowan finally speaks. "You can teach her control?"
"I can teach her many things." Morgana's gaze shifts to her grandson. "But it will cost her. Everything costs something, Rowan. You should know that by now."
"What do you want?" I ask directly. "You said I owe you a debt. Name your price."
Morgana's smile widens. "Eager. I like that. Very well. Here are my terms: I will train you for three months. I will teach you to control your power, to wield it without being consumed by it. And in return, when your training is complete, you will do one thing for me. One task. No questions asked. No refusals accepted."
"That's too vague," Rhea objects. "You could ask her to do anything—"
"Exactly." Morgana's eyes gleam. "That's how deals work, dear. I take the risk of training her, and she takes the risk of owing me a favor. Fair is fair."
I look at Rowan. His face is grim, warning me to think carefully.
But what choice do I have? Without control, I'm a danger to everyone around me. I'll hurt people I care about. I'll become the monster they all say I am.
"I accept," I say.
"No!" Rowan grabs my arm. "Calyn, you don't know what she might ask—"
"I don't care." I meet his silver eyes. "I can't live like this, Rowan. Always afraid I'll lose control and kill someone. If she can teach me, then whatever price she asks is worth it."
Morgana claps her hands together. "Wonderful! Then we have a deal." She stands and approaches me, pressing one gnarled finger to my forehead. "Bound by blood and magic, witnessed by these two. You are mine for three months, Calyn Merewood. And when I collect my debt, you will honor it. Do you swear?"
Magic pulses through me, cold and sharp. "I swear."
"Excellent." Morgana drops her hand and turns away. "Your training begins at dawn. For now, rest. You'll need your strength." She points to three doorways carved into the tree's interior. "Guest rooms. Take your pick. Oh, and don't try to leave during the night. The Deadlands don't take kindly to wanderers."
She disappears through another doorway, leaving us alone.
The moment she's gone, Rowan rounds on me. "Do you have any idea what you just did? My grandmother doesn't make deals out of kindness. Whatever she asks for will be—"
"I know," I interrupt. "But I meant what I said. I can't keep living in fear of myself."
"There are other ways—"
"Name one." I wait, but he has no answer. "Exactly. She's the only option we have."
Rhea puts a hand on Rowan's shoulder. "She's right. We're out of options. And at least here, she's safe from the Council."
"Safe?" Rowan laughs bitterly. "We're in the Deadlands with a witch who collects debts like trophies. We're not safe. We're just choosing one danger over another."
"Then why did you bring me here?" I challenge.
His jaw tightens. "Because I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."
The admission hangs in the air between us. He's scared. We all are.
I choose the first guest room and collapse onto the bed. It's surprisingly comfortable—far better than anything I've had since leaving the Enclave.
Sleep comes quickly, pulled down by exhaustion.
But my dreams are dark.
I'm standing in a field of bones. Dead wolves everywhere, all drained of power. And I'm in the center, glowing with stolen energy, silver eyes blazing.
"This is what you'll become," a voice whispers. My father's voice. "This is why I feared you."
I try to run, but the bones rise up, forming walls around me. Trapping me.
"You can't escape what you are," my mother's voice joins in. "Born wrong. Made by dark magic. A mistake."
"No!" I scream. "I'm more than this! I can choose—"
"Can you?" Now it's Morgana's voice, echoing from everywhere. "Or will your hunger consume you like it has every Void before you?"
The bones collapse inward, crushing me—
I wake with a gasp, heart pounding.
Dawn light filters through a window carved into the tree. I can hear movement in the main room—Morgana is awake.
My training begins today.
I force myself out of bed and walk to the main room. Morgana is stirring something in a cauldron, the liquid inside glowing an eerie blue.
"Good. You're awake." She doesn't look up. "Drink this."
"What is it?"
"Medicine. To help you survive what's coming." She ladles the glowing liquid into a cup and holds it out. "Don't worry. It won't kill you. Probably."
I hesitate, then take the cup. The liquid smells like rotting flowers and burnt hair. I force myself to drink it down.
It tastes worse than it smells.
"Excellent." Morgana sets down the ladle. "Now. Let's begin your first lesson. Follow me."
She leads me outside to a circle of stones arranged in the clearing. In the center of the circle is a wolf—bound by magic chains, snarling and struggling.
My stomach drops. "What is that?"
"Your first test." Morgana's smile is cruel. "This is a rogue wolf. He attacked a pack last week, killed three cubs. He deserves to die. Your task is simple: drain him. Take his power. Consume him completely."
"What? No!" I back away. "I can't just kill someone—"
"He's already sentenced to death," Morgana says coldly. "The only question is whether you'll be the one to do it. This is lesson one, Void child: your power requires death. Requires consumption. You can either accept that truth, or you can keep pretending you're something you're not."
"There has to be another way—"
"There isn't." She grabs my arm with surprising strength. "You want control? Then you need to understand what you're controlling. You need to feel the full extent of your power. You need to know what it's like to take a life deliberately, consciously, completely."
Tears burn my eyes. "This is wrong."
"This is reality." Morgana pushes me toward the circle. "Now do it. Or I'll know you're not strong enough to be worth teaching."
The wolf in the circle snarls at me, eyes wild with fear and rage.
And I realize with horror that Morgana is right.
If I can't do this—if I can't face what I am—then I'll never have control.
I'll always be running. Always be afraid.
I step into the circle.
The wolf lunges, but the magic chains hold him. He snaps his jaws inches from my face.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
Then I release my power.
The drain is immediate and intense. His energy flows into me, and for the first time, I don't fight it. I let it happen.
I let myself be the monster.
The wolf's struggles weaken. His snarls become whimpers. His eyes begin to dim.
And through it all, I feel everything. His fear. His pain. His life slipping away.
When it's done, the wolf collapses, dead.
And I'm standing there, glowing with his stolen power, silver eyes blazing.
I look at my hands—they're shaking.
"Well done," Morgana says softly. "You've taken your first step. Now tell me, Void child—how does it feel to embrace what you are?"
I open my mouth to answer, but no words come.
Because the truth is too terrible to speak aloud.
It felt good.
And that scares me more than anything.