The great hall of Shadowfang fell silent.
Elara stood frozen, Viktor's words echoing in her mind. Allies. Still gathering. Still out there.
Kael was at her side in an instant, his hand finding hers. Through the bond, she felt his shock—and beneath it, a cold fury that matched her own.
"Tell me everything." Her voice was steady, though her heart raced. "Who? How many? Where?"
Viktor gestured, and wolves began clearing the hall—not dismissing the crowd, but transforming the space. Tables moved. Maps appeared. Within minutes, the great hall had become a war room.
"Come." Viktor led them to the largest table, where a detailed map of the territories was spread. "I'll show you what I know."
---
The master's network was larger than anyone had imagined.
Viktor's finger traced across the map, marking territories as he spoke. "These five packs—" He touched points in the north, east, and south. "—pledged loyalty to the master years ago. Not openly—they maintained public neutrality while secretly supplying him with warriors, supplies, information."
Elara studied the marked territories. "Why? What did they gain?"
"Power. Influence. Protection." Viktor's storm-grey eyes were grim. "The master promised them positions of authority when he controlled the Crown. Territories to rule. Enemies to crush." He paused. "And he had something else. Something none of them could resist."
"What?"
"Blood magic. The ability to extend life, enhance strength, control others." Viktor met her eyes. "Your mother's line wasn't the only one with ancient power. The master had his own—stolen, corrupted, but real. He used it to bind these packs to him. To make them dependent on him for... continued existence."
Continued existence. Elara thought of Kress, of the emptiness in his eyes, of what the master had done to create such a weapon.
"How many wolves are we talking about?" Kael's voice was ice.
"Thousands. Spread across five territories." Viktor pointed at the map again. "Here—Ashfang, in the northern mountains. Here—Stonecrest, in the eastern badlands. Here—" He continued naming, each mark a new weight on Elara's heart.
Five packs. Thousands of wolves. All bound to a dead master by blood magic they couldn't break.
"They don't know he's dead." Bran spoke quietly from behind them. "Or if they do, they haven't accepted it. The blood bonds would still hold—for a time."
"How long?" Elara asked.
"Months, maybe. The bonds would weaken without his power feeding them. But they wouldn't break completely without intervention." Bran's ancient eyes met hers. "Someone would need to sever them. Deliberately. Powerfully."
Someone with royal blood.
Elara understood. "Me. I'd have to do it."
"If anyone can." Bran nodded slowly. "The blood bonds were created using corrupted versions of the same magic that sealed you as an infant. Your blood—your power—could potentially unravel them."
"Potentially." Kael's voice was sharp. "Or it could kill her."
"Both are possible." Bran didn't soften the truth. "Blood magic is unpredictable. Corrupted blood magic even more so. But if those packs are left bound to a dead master—if their leaders realize he's gone and panic—they could become a new threat. Desperate wolves are dangerous wolves."
Silence.
Elara stared at the map. At the five territories marked in enemy red. At thousands of wolves who weren't truly enemies—just trapped. Just desperate. Just victims of the same monster who'd hunted her.
"We go to them." Her voice was quiet but firm. "We offer them a choice. The same choice I offered Blackthorn. The same choice I offered Shadowfang."
"Elara—" Kael started.
"If we fight them, thousands die. Wolves who might have been allies if given the chance." She looked at him. "I'm not building a kingdom on corpses. I'm building it on choices."
Kael stared at her for a long moment.
Through the bond, she felt his fear—and his pride. His terror at the danger—and his awe at who she'd become.
You're really going to do this, he thought.
I have to. You know I have to.
I know. He pulled her close. And I'll be right beside you. Every step.
---
The planning took hours.
Viktor shared everything he knew about each pack—their leaders, their territories, their weaknesses and strengths. Dace filled page after page with notes, his quill flying. Cassian and Lyra studied the map, identifying potential routes and dangers. Bran offered ancient wisdom about blood magic, about the master's methods, about what Elara might face.
And through it all, Kael stayed close. A steady presence. An anchor.
As night fell, a shape appeared in the doorway.
Kress.
He looked... different. Not healed—that would take time, maybe years. But present in a way he hadn't been before. His eyes held something besides emptiness now. Uncertainty. Hope. Fear.
"Your Highness." His voice was rough. "I heard. About the master's allies."
Elara nodded. "You knew him. The master. You fought for him?"
"For years. Before Viktor bought my freedom." Kress's jaw tightened. "I saw things. Did things. Things I can never undo." He met her eyes. "But I also saw his methods. His strongholds. His weaknesses. If you're going after his network—" He knelt. "Let me help. Let me redeem something."
Elara looked at him. At the wolf she'd reached through compassion, not violence. At the weapon who was learning to be a person again.
"Rise," she said softly. "And yes. We'll need every advantage we can get."
Kress rose. For the first time, something like a smile flickered across his scarred face.
"Then I'll tell you everything."
---
The night deepened.
Elara sat on the balcony of her quarters, staring at the stars. Behind her, Kael moved quietly, preparing for sleep they both knew wouldn't come easily.
"You're thinking too loud again." He appeared beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Always." She leaned back against him. "Five packs, Kael. Thousands of wolves. All trapped by blood magic they didn't choose."
"You'll free them."
"You sound so certain."
"I am." He turned her to face him. "I've watched you do impossible things. Survive rejection. Defy a master. Heal a killer with nothing but words. If anyone can break those bonds without destroying everyone involved—" He touched her face. "It's you."
She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.
"I'm scared," she whispered. "Terrified. What if I'm not strong enough? What if I try and fail and they all—"
"Then we try something else." His voice was steady. "Together. That's what mates do. We face the impossible and refuse to give up."
Together.
The word was a lifeline.
She rose on her toes and kissed him—soft, slow, full of everything she couldn't say.
When they broke apart, his silver eyes held hers.
"Whatever comes tomorrow," he murmured, "I'll be here. Always."
"I know." She touched his face. "That's what keeps me going."
They stood together, watching the stars.
And for a moment, the weight of five packs and a dead master's legacy didn't seem quite so heavy.
---
End of Chapter 29🐺