Chapter 2 Rouges And Ruins
1350 Words
Naidaska.
That Same Night.
Damon Vale stood at the border of Naidaska, his clothes bloodied, his breathing uneven as he stumbled into view of the patrol guards.
“Help!” he gasped. “Rogues… rogues attacked us!”
His performance was flawless. A split lip, torn shirt, mud-smeared arms, he looked like a survivor. But it was all calculated. The wounds he bore were shallow, self-inflicted to make the lie believable.
Within minutes, word spread through the pack like wildfire.
By the time Thorne and Garrix arrived, Damon was already in the courtyard, feigning exhaustion, surrounded by murmuring wolves.
“What happened?” Thorne demanded, his tone sharp but controlled.
Damon dropped to his knees, his voice cracking with emotion. “We were ambushed… at the outskirts. I.... I tried to fight them off, but there were too many. Lyra… they took her. I couldn’t stop them.”
Gasps echoed through the gathered crowd.
“They killed her?” Garrix asked, eyes narrowed.
Damon lowered his gaze. “I saw her fall. They tore her apart and dragged her into the woods. I… I barely made it out alive.”
No one questioned him. His tear-filled eyes, trembling hands, and visible wounds painted the perfect picture of a tragic lover.
The news hit Elias like a thunderclap.
He was already weakened, bedridden in the Alpha’s quarters. But when he heard the words “Lyra is gone" his heart shattered.
The servants said they heard his cry echo through the halls.
He refused food. Refused counsel. He didn’t even rise from bed. The great Alpha Elias, once the fiercest wolf in all Naidaska, now looked like a hollowed man carved from grief.
And with Elias too weak to lead, Thorne stepped forward.
“The pack cannot be leaderless,” Thorne declared at the next council. “With the Alpha too ill and his heir dead, I will take command until a new Alpha is chosen.”
No one objected.
Not even Elias, who stared into his hearth fire with dead eyes.
Thorne had won.
Deep in the Frosted Woods
Cold.
That was the first thing Lyra felt.
A biting, bone-deep cold that wrapped around her like a second skin. Her fingers twitched weakly as she gasped for breath. The pain in her chest was excruciating, it was like fire and ice laced together and every heartbeat pounded like a war drum.
The last thing she remembered was Damon’s eyes. Empty. Apologetic. Cruel.
The betrayal ran deeper than the blade.
She tried to move, but her body screamed in protest.
Footsteps crunched on the frosted leaves nearby.
“She’s still breathing,” a voice said.
“She won’t last long,” another muttered.
A third voice spoke calm, firm, and oddly warm. “Then we don’t leave her.”
A pair of strong arms lifted her gently from the ground. She wanted to fight, her instincts begged her to but she was too weak, her world slipping back into shadow.
The last thing she saw before the darkness returned was a man’s face, green eyes, a scar on his jaw, and a presence that felt like gravity.
Somewhere Unknown.
Days Later.
Lyra awoke to the scent of pine and smoke. Her body lay nestled in layers of thick furs, and the walls around her were made of rough-hewn logs. A low-burning fire flickered nearby, its warmth drawing the chill from her bones.
Her chest ached. She reached for it instinctively and felt the thick bandages beneath her tunic.
“You’re awake,” a girl’s voice said softly.
Lyra turned her head.
A young lady sat at her bedside, dark braids cascading over her shoulder, skin sun-warmed and eyes an unusual violet. She held a bowl of steaming herbs in her lap and a cloth in her hand.
“Easy,” the girl added gently. “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
Lyra’s voice cracked. “Where am I?”
The girl smiled faintly. “Safe.”
Just then, the door creaked open, and the man from the forest entered.
He was tall, built like a warrior, his dark hair tousled, a long coat draped over broad shoulders. His green eyes were striking, piercing, unreadable.
“I’m Kael,” he said simply. “You’re in rogue territory. We found you bleeding out in the woods.”
Lyra’s eyes widened, panic threatening to rise in her chest. Rogues. The word alone was a warning, tales told to pups to keep them in line.
She tried to sit up, groaning with effort. “Why didn’t you leave me there?”
“Because we’re not monsters,” Kael replied.
“Some would say otherwise.”
Kael shrugged. “You’re not dead. You’re welcome.”
“Not sure I should thank the very people my pack trained me to fear.”
Kael stepped closer, folding his arms. “Maybe your pack lied to you.”
His tone wasn’t threatening just… honest. And that unsettled her more than any blade.
The Rogue Camp.
One Week Later.
Recovery was slow. The healer introduced herself as Seren Valemire, and though she was polite, Lyra couldn’t shake the coldness in her tone or the jealousy in her eyes.
“She likes you, you know” Lyra commented one evening, watching Kael train with some of the younger rogues in the snow.
“Who?” Kael asked.
“Seren.”
Kael didn’t look away from the sparring match. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
“And?”
“And nothing.”
Lyra smiled faintly.
Despite her injuries, she began to walk again limping through the camp, watching how the rogues worked. There was no hierarchy. No Alpha or Beta. Just Kael, who didn’t command with authority but with mutual respect. They listened to him because they trusted him.
It was foreign to her.
And yet… refreshing.
On her tenth day, Kael approached her by the central fire pit.
“I want to help you heal properly,” he said.
“I’m healing fine,” she replied.
“I mean mentally.”
Lyra narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know betrayal when I see it in someone’s eyes,” he said.
Silence.
She looked away. “I don’t know what you're talking about.”
“I know the reason you're still limping isn't physical. I spoke to Seren, you were only stabbed in the chest so there's no reason you shouldn't be able to walk effectively.”
Lyra’s lips trembled. She tried to speak but stopped herself.
Kael didn’t press. He simply offered her a short wooden blade. “Train with me. Learn to protect yourself better. Next time, don’t let anyone get that close.”
She hesitated.
Then took the weapon.
Meanwhile in Naidaska.
Thorne sat atop the Alpha’s platform, addressing the pack with rehearsed sorrow.
“She was taken too soon. The rogues left us no choice but to prepare for war. As acting Alpha, I will guide us through this darkness.”
Damon stood by his side, silent and pensive.
Elias watched from the shadows, too weak to speak, but something in his eyes still burned. The others thought it was grief.
But it was suspicion.
Back in the Rogue Camp
That night, Lyra stood beside Kael at the edge of the clearing, watching the stars.
“I don’t know who I am without Naidaska,” she whispered.
Kael looked at her. “Then maybe it’s time you find out.”
"How do I do that?", Lyra asked.
Kael’s gaze didn’t leave the treeline. “Start by forgetting everything Naidaska ever taught you.”
Lyra followed his gaze. The wind stirred the frost-dusted branches.
But then, something shifted in the air.
A presence.
Kael’s posture stiffened. His hand brushed the dagger strapped to his waist.
Lyra turned, senses prickling.
“What is it?” she whispered.
Kael didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the darkness beyond the firelight.
“Someone’s watching us.”
In the shadows beyond the clearing, a figure retreated silently into the woods.
(To be continued...)
- Writer
