POV: Jamie
The clang of steel rang out again and again, echoing across the training fields as sweat dripped down my brow. Laurette's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Keep your stance firm, Jamie! You move like you're trying to dance around your opponent, not take them down!"
I grunted, rolling away from a Kaelmere warrior who moved with the speed of a windstorm. My arms ached from hours of sparring, my legs threatening to give way—but I pushed through. I had to.
Kaelmere's presence in Furstone was still fresh. Though the warriors followed orders, there was a silent challenge in their every move, as if they were still deciding whether we were worth their loyalty.
"Again!" Laurette barked.
The warrior I was paired with, Rourke, lunged forward. I dodged, barely. He was bigger, stronger, and not holding back. He knocked me to the ground with a calculated sweep, his blade poised at my neck before Laurette intervened.
"That's enough, Rourke."
He stepped back, sheathing his blade with a look that bordered on smug.
"You're fast, Luna," he said. "But not fast enough."
I sat up, panting, brushing dirt from my tunic. "Maybe not fast. But I don't plan to lose."
Laurette offered me her hand, pulling me to my feet. "You're improving," she said, her voice lower now, just for me. "But they're testing you. Kaelmere doesn't bow easily."
"I'm not asking them to bow," I muttered. "Just fight alongside us."
Her lips curved slightly in approval, but before she could say more, another Kaelmere warrior—a—lithe, sharp-eyed woman—stepped forward.
"Permission to spar with Luna Jamie?" she asked Laurette directly.
Laurette nodded. "Permission granted. No lethal strikes."
I sighed. "Oh, great."
The warrior smirked. "Don't worry, Luna. I'll make it quick."
We circled each other. My muscles screamed in protest, but adrenaline took over. She moved like smoke, swift and silent. I blocked, dodged, parried. But as the match continued, she pushed harder. Too hard.
A sharp jab to my ribs knocked the breath from my lungs. I stumbled, falling to one knee. I heard Laurette call out, but the world narrowed to just me, the dirt, and a burning in my chest.
It wasn't pain.
It was power.
Hot. Wild. Electric.
I gritted my teeth, my fingers digging into the earth. A crackling filled the air—a sound like the sky being torn open.
Then—light.
It surged from me in a pulse of raw energy, a blinding burst that sent the warrior flying back and knocked several onlookers off their feet. Gasps. Shouts. Confusion.
I collapsed onto my hands, breathing hard. My body trembled uncontrollably. The training ground fell into stunned silence.
Then someone screamed, "His wrist!"
Laurette was beside me in an instant, steadying me as I sat back on my heels. Her eyes dropped to my right wrist.
There, glowing faintly—just for a moment—was a symbol. A mark I'd never seen before, intricate and pulsing with light, before it flickered out.
"What was that?" I whispered hoarsely.
But Laurette said nothing.
Only stared.
They moved me to the infirmary, but I was fine. Shaken. Overwhelmed. But fine.
Laurette stayed behind, claiming she'd follow after. I caught her glancing again at my wrist, though she quickly masked it. There was something she wasn't saying.
Later that evening, I found Andrew on the terrace overlooking the park grounds, arms folded, the moonlight casting sharp angles across his face.
"You lit up the sky, Jamie," he said with a faint smile as I approached. "Literally."
I leaned beside him, resting my arms on the railing. "Yeah. Sorry about the scare."
He glanced sideways at me. "Are you okay?"
"I think so." I hesitated. "But there's something else, Andrew… I've been noticing things. Off behavior. Caroline, mostly. She's been missing training, avoiding patrols. Today, she was just gone. Again."
His smile faltered. "Caroline? Come on, Jamie. She's a pain in the ass, but she's loyal."
"Is she?" I asked quietly. "I want to believe that, too. But something's not right. I can feel it. Ann noticed it too."
Andrew sighed, brushing his hand through his hair. "I just—if you're wrong…"
"I know. It'll hurt. Especially you."
A long silence stretched between us. Then he turned fully, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in until his face was buried in the curve of my neck.
"I've missed you," he murmured, his voice lower now. "Missed your scent. Your warmth."
My heart thudded in my chest. I tilted my head so his lips grazed my jaw. "I missed you, too, Andy."
His hands tightened around my waist. "I like it when you call me that," he said, smiling against my skin. "Sounds like home."
We stayed like that, breathing in sync, holding each other quietly under the stars. But even that peace couldn't last long.
A knock sounded behind us.
"Alpha. Luna." It was Philip, always so damn prompt. "Laurette's called a war council."
Andrew groaned softly. "Of course."
I laughed against his shoulder. "Duty calls."
He leaned in, kissed me softly—once, twice—then drew back just enough to meet my eyes. "When this is over, we take a whole damn day to ourselves. No warriors, no politics."
"Deal."
And with that, we parted, stepping back into the thick of war preparations. Together.
Still us.
Still rising.
*****
POV: Elder Throne
The council chamber was empty, the last torch flickering as Elder Throne sat alone. The scroll from the rogue lay unrolled before him on the table, the parchment stained and brittle.
He stared at the sigil again, etched in crimson wax. It wasn't Maelin's mark. No, this was older. Wilder. Forgotten by most.
But not by him.
"The Black Fang," he murmured, almost reverently. "Impossible..."
They were supposed to be extinct—an ancient cult that thrived on chaos. But the symbol didn't lie.
Troubled, he rose, tucking the scroll into his cloak. If this were true, Maelin was merely a puppet. And someone else was pulling the strings.
Someone worse.
******
POV: Oona
Deep beneath the sanctuary's floor, in a chamber hidden behind layers of spells, Oona's patience frayed. She paced in front of Caroline and Lilith, eyes sharp, expression coiled.
"You still haven't gotten the Book of Nivorien?" she snapped.
Caroline shrank slightly. "Jamie's become more guarded. Ann too. I tried, but—"
"Try harder!" Oona hissed. "You're running out of excuses."
Caroline looked away.
Lilith crossed her arms, gaze narrowed. "Mother, what's in that book?"
"It's not just the book," Oona said, voice low. "It's what follows it. But since you've failed,"—she looked hard at Caroline—"you'll steal something else. His father's journal. It's locked in the chest in his room. Get it."
"Why?" Lilith pressed.
Oona's eyes flickered.
"Because there are truths in that journal that even Jamie doesn't know," she said. "And if we're to survive what's coming, we need every piece of leverage we can get."
Then she added, almost gently, "Don't make me regret trusting you."
Caroline nodded slowly.
Lilith didn't.
Her mother was beginning to lose herself. And if she wasn't careful... she'd lose them too.