**Chapter Three** *Blood on the Stone*
1074 Words
The walls had been breached.
Kael’s words echoed in Aria’s ears like war drums. Her body tensed, instinct prickling beneath her skin. The howls outside had turned savage—chaos in its purest form.
“What do we do?” she asked, heart pounding.
Kael was already striding toward the door. “We fight.”
He didn’t look back, but she followed anyway. Her legs moved on their own, driven by adrenaline, fear—and something deeper. The bond. The tug that pulled her toward him like gravity.
They emerged into a corridor ablaze with movement. Warriors sprinted past, some mid-shift, others bloodied and snarling. The air reeked of smoke and copper. Screams echoed from the outer walls. It wasn’t just an attack.
It was a s*******r.
Kael grabbed a sword from the wall and tossed another to her. “Stay with me. Don’t fall behind.”
“I can hold my own,” she shot back.
He didn’t argue, just gave her a nod that said *prove it*.
Outside, the Bloodfang fortress was under siege.
Flames crackled along the wooden barricades. Shadows darted between trees. Wolves clashed in the clearing, fang against fang, blade against claw. Aria’s heart twisted at the sight of it—her new home being torn apart, piece by piece.
She didn’t hesitate.
She dove into the fray beside Kael, blade swinging in practiced arcs. She wasn’t a soldier—but she wasn’t helpless either. Her training as a healer had taught her how to read movement, anticipate pain, and strike where it hurt.
A rogue lunged at her—tall, muscled, with eyes like dead embers.
She ducked his swipe, spun, and drove her blade into his side. He dropped with a gasp, eyes wide in shock.
Kael caught the next one mid-shift and snapped his neck with a brutal twist.
“We’re pushing them back!” someone yelled—but Aria didn’t dare believe it.
Because something was *wrong*.
She could feel it in the earth beneath her feet. A vibration. A hum.
A warning.
Then she saw him.
Ronan stood atop the ridge, watching the c*****e with cold detachment. His arms were crossed, face unreadable, like he wasn’t part of the chaos—just a conductor of it.
He didn’t join the fight.
He didn’t need to.
Because something far worse stepped from the trees behind him.
It wasn’t a wolf.
It looked like one—towering, fur black as pitch, eyes glowing red—but it *reeked* of something unnatural. Corruption radiated from it, warping the air. Aria’s stomach turned.
“What is *that*?” she gasped.
Kael went still.
“A shadowborn,” he whispered.
Aria’s blood ran cold. She’d heard the name in old stories—creatures twisted by dark magic, born from broken oaths and blood-soaked rituals. They weren’t supposed to *exist* anymore.
But this one did.
And it was headed straight for her.
“Run!” Kael roared, throwing himself in its path.
The impact shook the ground. Kael shifted mid-air, fur exploding from his skin, his wolf massive and silver-edged with power. They collided like titans, claws tearing, fangs snapping.
Aria didn’t run.
She stepped closer.
The creature tossed Kael like a rag doll. He hit a stone wall with a sickening c***k and didn’t rise.
“Kael!” she screamed.
The shadowborn turned to her.
It *grinned*.
Her wolf surged inside her, howling. Energy flooded her limbs, electric and wild. Her skin shimmered, pupils dilated, and for a moment—just a breath—she felt *powerful*.
Then everything snapped.
A burst of light erupted from her body, sending the shadowborn stumbling back with a hiss.
It recovered quickly—but not without fear.
“Who are you?” it rasped.
Even she didn’t know the answer.
But whatever had awakened inside her—it was *ancient*.
The creature lunged again.
Aria raised her blade, but before she could strike, something slammed into the beast from the side—another wolf, silver-eyed and massive.
Kael.
Blood matted his fur, but his eyes burned with fury. Together, they struck, blade and fang, until the shadowborn retreated with a snarl and vanished into the smoke.
When the battle died, and the last rogue fell, silence settled like ash over the clearing.
Bodies littered the ground.
The walls were scorched.
But Bloodfang stood.
Kael shifted back, breath ragged, blood dripping from his arm. Aria ran to him, catching him before he fell.
“You shouldn’t have fought it alone,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t alone,” he murmured, looking at her—not with pride, but wonder. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know.”
He stared at her, something unreadable behind his eyes. “I think… there’s more to you than even you realize.”
They didn’t get a moment to rest.
One of the sentries stumbled toward them, eyes wide with terror.
“There’s something else. At the gate.”
Kael’s body went rigid. “What now?”
The sentry swallowed hard. “It’s not an attack. It’s a message.”
They arrived at the gate with warriors flanking them.
Pinned to the wooden arch was a body—one of Bloodfang’s missing scouts, pale and lifeless.
But it wasn’t the body that sent chills down Aria’s spine.
It was the symbol carved into his chest.
A crescent moon surrounded by jagged black thorns.
Her breath hitched. “That’s… a mark of exile.”
Kael’s face darkened. “Not just any exile. That’s the mark of the *Nightfangs*.”
Aria blinked. “I thought they were extinct.”
“They were. Or so we believed.”
He reached for the parchment pinned beneath the body, his hands stained with blood.
The message was scrawled in deep, angry ink.
**“She is not yours, Alpha.”** **“The Moon made her, but we will claim her.”** **“Our Queen is coming.”**
A chill swept through Aria that had nothing to do with the night air.
Kael crumpled the parchment in his hand, jaw clenched tight.
“What does it mean?” she whispered.
But Kael didn’t answer right away.
He just turned to her, his voice low and dangerous.
“It means the war isn’t over.”
And as he stared into the trees, Aria knew something with terrifying certainty.
Whoever *their Queen* was…
She was coming for *her*.
- Writer
