Elara learned very quickly that power did not stay quiet.
By morning, Nightfall Pack was buzzing.
She sensed it before she saw it—the way wolves paused mid-step when she passed, the way conversations lowered into murmurs. No one bowed. No one challenged her either. They watched her with something dangerously close to awe.
And fear.
Elara kept her head down as she walked through the camp, fingers clenched around the edge of her cloak. The silver markings beneath her skin were dormant now, hidden, but she could still feel them—like embers waiting for breath.
"She doesn't belong here."
The whisper was soft, but not soft enough.
Elara's steps slowed.
"She was rejected. That kind of bad luck follows."
"Or she brings it."
Her chest tightened. Old instincts screamed at her to retreat, to make herself smaller. She forced herself to keep walking.
Lucien was waiting near the council hall, leaning against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed. His sharp gaze flicked to her face instantly.
"You heard," he said quietly.
She nodded.
"Good," Lucien replied. "Then you know why we can't delay anymore."
Her stomach dropped. "Delay what?"
Before he could answer, the heavy doors of the council hall opened.
And the whispers turned into silence.
The Nightfall council chamber was carved directly into the mountain, its walls etched with centuries of history. Stone seats curved around a central dais where Lucien took his place—not on a throne, but a simple chair, unadorned.
Elara stood beside him.
That alone sent a ripple through the elders.
"Explain," Elder Maelis said, his voice rough with age and authority. "Why the rejected mate of Blackthorn stands in our hall."
Elara flinched.
Lucien did not.
"She stands here," he said calmly, "because the Moon marked her."
A sharp inhale swept the room.
"You claim the Moon favors a rejected wolf?" another elder snapped.
Lucien's gaze hardened. "I claim nothing. I observed."
He gestured slightly. Elara swallowed and stepped forward, heart pounding.
"Show them," Lucien murmured.
Her hands trembled.
"I don't know how," she whispered.
Lucien leaned closer. "You don't command it. You allow it."
Elara closed her eyes.
She breathed.
The silver responded instantly—curling beneath her skin, then blooming outward in soft, luminous patterns. The temperature in the chamber shifted. The ancient markings carved into the walls glowed faintly in response.
One elder fell to his knees.
"The resonance…" he whispered. "It hasn't appeared in generations."
Fear rippled through Elara—but beneath it, something steadier took root.
Lucien watched the elders carefully.
"This is why secrecy ends now," he said. "Other packs will feel this. Some already have."
As if summoned by his words, a sharp howl echoed from beyond the mountain—distant, unfamiliar.
Elara's heart skipped.
Lucien's jaw tightened.
"They're closer than I hoped."
At Blackthorn, Alpha Kael Blackthorn stood before his council, hands braced on the table carved from the heartwood of an ancient oak.
"She's alive," Elder Bram said carefully. "And not just alive. Nightfall is shielding her."
Kael's eyes burned.
"I know."
The bond twisted inside him, a constant ache that sharpened with every hour. She was stronger now. Different. And worst of all—she was slipping out of his reach.
"She was rejected," Bram pressed. "By you. That ends your claim."
Kael snarled, wolf pushing violently against his control.
"I don't need a claim," he snapped. "I need answers."
"And what if the answers cost you your Alpha title?" another elder asked coldly.
Silence slammed into the room.
Kael straightened slowly. "Then the pack will survive," he said. "Even if I don't."
The elders exchanged uneasy glances.
Outside, Blackthorn's warriors were restless. Packs had begun to send scouts. Questions were being asked. And wolves feared what they did not understand.
Kael turned away.
"Prepare a delegation," he ordered. "We go to Nightfall."
"That would be seen as a challenge," Bram warned.
Kael's lips curved into something sharp. "Let them see it however they want."
Inside, his wolf howled.
She is ours.
Nightfall prepared for war without calling it one.
Elara watched from the edge of the training grounds as warriors sharpened blades and reinforced wards etched into the stone. The air was tense—coiled like a storm waiting to break.
Lucien joined her, silent as ever.
"You feel it," he said.
"Yes," Elara replied softly. "Everyone's afraid."
Lucien studied her. "And you?"
She hesitated.
"I don't want anyone hurt because of me."
Lucien's voice was steady. "Power does not create conflict. It reveals it."
She wrapped her arms around herself. "Kael is coming."
Lucien did not deny it.
"He won't stop," she whispered.
"No," Lucien agreed. "But neither will the Moon."
The bond pulsed painfully, suddenly hot—too intense to ignore.
Elara gasped, clutching her chest.
Lucien moved instantly. "What is it?"
"He's—" Her breath hitched. "He's close."
The silver markings flared violently, light spilling across her skin, uncontrolled. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Lucien swore under his breath.
"Listen to me," he said sharply, gripping her shoulders. "You cannot let him pull you through the bond."
"I'm trying," she cried. "It hurts."
Lucien pressed his forehead to hers. "Then anchor yourself."
She focused—on the mountain, the stone, the pulse beneath her feet. Slowly, the pain dulled, though it did not vanish.
When she opened her eyes, Lucien was staring at her differently.
"With training," he said quietly, "you could sever the bond entirely."
Her heart stopped.
"You mean… be free?"
"Yes."
But even as hope sparked, something twisted deep inside her.
Freedom sounded like relief.
Why, then, did it feel like loss?
That night, as scouts reported movement along the borders, Elara stood beneath the open sky, staring up at the moon.
"Why does this hurt?" she whispered.
The Moon did not answer immediately.
When it did, the voice was soft—but merciless.
Because destiny resists denial.
Elara's hands trembled.
"Will he destroy everything?"
He will try.
"And me?"
A pause.
That depends on what you choose to become.
Far away, Kael crossed into Nightfall territory.
The bond snapped tight between them—like a thread pulled too hard.
And somewhere deep in Elara's chest, something ancient stirred… and began to wake.