New moon. Not a lick of light, just whispers that stuck to your skin.
Blackridge was quiet after the Gathering. Seven packs ran Kael's mark now—a snazzy silver crescent over a blacked-out sun. The rest? Laying low. Licking wounds. Plotting, probably.
Liora felt war crawling closer. She just didn't think it'd crash through her door this fast.
And not like this.
Not through him.
She was up in the eastern watchtower, eyes glued to a lone rider sneaking up beneath the night's cloak. She'd know that walk anywhere. That smell—unmistakable.
She bolted down the stairs, heart hammering like it wanted out.
By the time she hit the gates, he was already inside.
"Hello, Little Thorn."
Her hands shook. "Rykan."
Her brother grinned—well, sorta. Didn't reach his eyes, not even close.
He looked... older, somehow. Thinner, a slash of silver in hair that used to be dark as pitch. Armor still flashed their old pack's crest, which, lucky her, was now all buddy-buddy with the Council.
"Didn't think you'd come," she admitted.
"Didn't think I should," he shot back. "You've really pissed on tradition, you know that?"
She stepped in, searching his face, desperate. "I did what was needed. You would've too."
"I did. I stayed behind to keep our family breathing."
"Our family's dead."
"Because of him."
That one stung. She flinched, hard.
"He didn't betray us, Rykan. The Elders did."
"You're starting to sound just like him."
"Good."
Rykan's jaw worked like he was grinding his teeth to dust.
She reached for him, but he jerked away.
"I'm here with a message," he said, voice clipped enough to draw blood. "Council's labeled you and Kael enemies of the Accord. Any pack that shelters you? They're traitors now."
She laughed—sharp, ugly. "Oh, what, they'll slaughter them like they did us?"
His silence was answer enough.
Her voice dropped, barely more than a crack. "You here to kill me?"
He couldn't look at her.
"No. Not tonight."
She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Then help me."
"I can't."
"You won't."
He turned, already halfway gone.
"They'll hit at the Blood Summit. Kael thinks he's building a coalition, but the Council's got moles everywhere. You're walking into a bloodbath."
Liora froze.
He paused at the gate, not looking back.
"You get a week. After that? Don't expect another heads-up."
And just like that, he vanished into the dark.
---
War council, Blackridge Keep, shattered as ever. Maps and stolen letters and who-knows-what else cluttered the table. Kael at the head, face like he'd been carved from stone.
Liora spilled Rykan's warning.
Dante slammed the table so hard something cracked. "We can't ditch the Summit! First time in a hundred years the packs even pretended to play nice."
"March in blind, it'll be the last," Liora shot back.
Kael just stared at the table, all brooding silence.
Then he finally said, "We're not canceling. We go in, but we go in ready."
Dante blinked like he'd misheard. "You're for real?"
"We run, we lose. We look scared. Prove all their stories right."
Liora came to his side. "Then we bend the field to us."
She stabbed a finger at the map—Summit was at Hollowmere, this ancient, creepy circle of stones, forest all around, catacombs underneath. Perfect for a trap. Or a counter-trap.
"If they're planning an ambush, we flip it on them."
Dante grinned, savage. "Turn the hunters into prey."
Kael nodded. "Scouts on every entrance. Sentries underground. And we bring proof."
"The scrolls?" Liora asked.
"No. Better."
He looked at Dante.
"Get the Seer."
---
Three days later, a wagon rolled in under enough guard to start a war.
Inside? Woman bound in silk chains, blindfolded, eyes leaking moonlight.
The Seer of Hollowmere.
Kael stepped into the sanctum—air thick enough to chew, tinged with something old and electric.
The Seer cocked her head. "Kael."
"You remember me?"
"I never forget a cursed soul."
"I need you at the Summit."
"You want me to out the Council's lies?"
"No. I want you to tell the truth."
She smiled—slow, sad, all knowing.
"There's always a price."
"I'll pay."
She turned to Liora, standing quiet at the edge.
"No," the Seer murmured. "She will."
Liora blinked. "What?"
"To open the Sight, I need tether. Your blood's marked. Your soul's already tangled."
Kael shoved between them. "No."
Liora brushed past him. "Yes."
The Seer pressed a finger to her forehead, and Liora's world went white.
---
She fell.
Through stars, through years, through everything.
Serena, screaming in the vault. Kael, younger, kneeling by a dead wolf. Her brother lurking in the shadows while the Elders sealed her fate.
Then—flashes.
Fire.
A child.
Chains.
A name whispered a thousand ways.
"The Shadowborn is waking."
She crashed to her knees, gasping.
The Seer loomed over her.
"It's started."
---
Night before the Summit. Kael watched Liora sparring with Dante in the moonlit yard.
She was sharper, faster, like she'd been rewired. The bond between them throbbed, electric and wild.
She caught him staring and crossed the yard.
"Can't sleep?"
"I keep thinking about what she said."
"About the cost?"
"No, about the Shadowborn."
Liora dropped her voice so low, Kael had to lean in. "She saw something in me, Kael."
He nodded. "Yeah. I know."
She searched his face. "Are you scared of me?"
Kael barely hesitated. He stepped in, close enough to kiss her forehead, which he did, gentle and quick.
"No. Not of you," he whispered. "I'm scared for you."
—
Hollowmere looked gorgeous, honestly. Like you'd wanna sketch it and hang it over your bed, if you ignored the whole 'death around every corner' vibe.
Summit time. Stiff collars, stiff backs, tension thick enough to choke on. Each pack sent their big boss and a sidekick. Kael stood out front, his cloak doing that dramatic wind thing. Liora stuck close, equal parts shield and target.
They started with proof—scrolls, blood-stained trinkets, the whole drama. Real receipts.
Then the Seer got up. And, well, everything went sideways.
She tore the mask off the Council's lies, called out secret executions and dropped the big one: the prophecy. Some Shadowborn kid, born from betrayal, set to blow up the old order.
And then—Liora's name. Like a thrown blade, right into the middle of the circle.
People gasped. A few bowed, like she was royalty or maybe a bomb about to go off.
Others? Their hands went for weapons, fast.
Right then, a crack of thunder ripped through the sky.
And chaos did what it does best.