The celebration did not last long.
Victory in Nightfall Dominion was never loud.
It was quiet. Controlled.
Measured.
Morvain had been taken to the lower chambers under guard. The council was fractured, its authority shaken. Wolves whispered in corners, reassessing loyalties that had once felt immovable.
And yet—
Nyra felt no peace.
She stood alone on the western balcony of the keep, staring at the forest stretching beyond the walls. The fractured moon hung higher now, its broken surface glowing faintly like veins of silver splitting across stone.
Kaelen approached without sound.
"You're hunting something," he said softly.
She didn't look at him. "Something is hunting us."
His gaze shifted to the tree line.
The forest was too still.
No night birds.
No distant howls.
Even the wind felt restrained.
"I felt it during the trial," she continued. "When the bond flared."
"Yes," he murmured. "So did I."
Not the bond itself.
Something responding to it.
A ripple in the unseen.
Her wolf paced restlessly beneath her skin.
"Morvain was only a piece," she said. "There's something larger."
Kaelen rested his forearms against the stone railing beside her.
"There is an old story," he began quietly, "older than the council. Older than the Dominion."
She turned slightly.
"I'm not in the mood for myths."
"This one is not a myth."
His tone made her still.
"It is said that when an Alpha and an Executioner bond fully—without oath, without coercion—it awakens something buried in the bloodline."
Her pulse quickened.
"What."
"A rival."
The word fell heavy.
"In the earliest days," he continued, "the Alpha was not chosen by council. He was chosen by challenge. Strength against strength. Pack against pack."
Nyra's eyes narrowed.
"You think someone will rise to challenge you."
"I know they will."
As if summoned by his words—
A howl split the night.
Not from within the walls.
From beyond them.
Deep.
Commanding.
Foreign.
Nyra's spine went rigid.
"That is not one of ours."
Kaelen's expression hardened.
"No."
Another howl answered.
Then another.
Not a pack call.
A declaration.
The guards along the wall stiffened.
Torches flared as warriors rushed to the battlements.
Nyra moved instantly.
"Open the west gate," she ordered.
Kaelen grabbed her wrist gently.
"Not yet."
Her eyes flashed. "They are challenging you."
"Yes."
"And you will answer."
"I will."
His voice lowered.
"But not recklessly."
The forest edge shifted.
Shadows moving against shadows.
Then—
A figure stepped forward into the moonlight beyond the gate.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
His hair was pale silver, almost white beneath the fractured moon. A jagged scar cut across his throat—old, deliberate.
Golden eyes lifted toward the walls.
Predatory.
Confident.
Nyra felt her wolf recoil.
Not in fear.
In recognition.
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
"Ardyn."
The name was almost a curse.
The silver-haired wolf smiled faintly.
His voice carried easily across the open distance.
"Brother."
A collective murmur rippled along the walls.
Nyra's breath caught.
Brother?
"You were supposed to be dead," Kaelen said evenly.
Ardyn tilted his head.
"And yet here I stand."
The moonlight brightened unnaturally around him.
Nyra's gaze sharpened.
"He carries old magic," she murmured.
"Yes," Kaelen said grimly. "He always did."
Ardyn stepped closer to the gate.
"I felt it," he called. "The bond snapping into place. The Executioner choosing you over law."
His golden eyes shifted upward—to Nyra.
Heat slid down her spine.
"You broke tradition," Ardyn continued. "You fractured the council."
Silence hung heavy.
"And so," he said calmly, "I have come to restore balance."
Kaelen's voice turned deadly quiet.
"By what right?"
Ardyn's smile widened slightly.
"By blood."
The word echoed like thunder.
A challenge.
Formal.
Ancient.
Nyra stepped closer to Kaelen.
"What is he claiming?"
"Firstborn right," Kaelen replied.
Her eyes snapped to him.
"You are the firstborn."
"I was."
The weight of that answer settled in her chest.
Ardyn spread his arms slightly.
"You should have died with the old regime, Kaelen," he called. "But you were always soft."
A growl rumbled through the wolves along the wall.
Kaelen did not react.
"You chose diplomacy," Ardyn went on. "You chose restraint. You chose—" His gaze flicked to Nyra again. "—attachment."
Nyra's hand moved to her blade.
Ardyn's eyes glinted.
"Yes," he murmured. "I can feel it from here. The Executioner's power woven into yours."
He stepped closer still.
"I challenge you, Kaelen Draven. For the Alpha seat. For the Dominion."
The forest behind him erupted with movement.
Dozens of wolves stepped from the shadows.
Rogues.
Exiles.
Scarred and hardened.
They knelt behind Ardyn.
Not wild.
Disciplined.
Chosen.
Kaelen inhaled slowly.
"If I refuse?"
Ardyn's smile vanished.
"Then I tear down your walls and take it by force."
The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight.
Nyra leaned toward Kaelen.
"You cannot fight him bound by ritual," she said quietly. "He wants the old rite."
"Yes."
"And if you lose?"
Kaelen's voice was calm.
"I do not intend to."
Ardyn lifted his chin.
"Dawn," he called. "At the edge of the western forest. Single combat. As our bloodline demands."
He turned slightly—
Then paused.
"And Executioner," he added, voice carrying smoothly, "you are forbidden from interfering."
Her jaw clenched.
"The bond does not protect him from me."
Kaelen's hand brushed hers briefly.
A silent warning.
Ardyn's golden eyes burned.
"Let us see," he said softly, "which brother the moon favors."
With that, he stepped backward into the shadows.
The rogues followed.
And just like that—
They were gone.
The forest fell silent again.
But the silence felt heavier now.
Charged.
Nyra exhaled slowly.
"He wants to kill you publicly."
"Yes."
"To fracture the Dominion further."
"Yes."
She turned to him fully.
"Why did you never tell me you had a brother?"
His gaze darkened.
"Because I watched him slit our father's throat."
The world seemed to tilt.
"And claim the Alpha seat."
Nyra's breath stilled.
"You killed him."
Kaelen's voice was quiet.
"I thought I did."
The fractured moon loomed overhead.
And for the first time since the trial—
Nyra felt true fear.
Not of the council.
Not of corruption.
But of blood.
Of family.
Of a war that was not political—
But personal.
Dawn was coming.
And it would not bring peace.