Chapter3
965 Words
Wolves That Bleed
Rael’s POV
The weight of leadership is heavier at night.
When the halls fall silent and the whispers of my ancestors echo louder than the wind against the cliffs, I feel it press into my bones, this power, this crown of teeth.
Ironfang was forged in war, and I was raised in the ruins. There is no space for softness here. No room for fate’s games.
And yet…
The bond still burns.
Seraphina Nightwind.
I knew the moment she stepped onto Ironfang soil that everything was about to change. My wolf had clawed against my chest, not in rage, but recognition. She was mine. Fated. Chosen.
But I rejected her.
Because I had to.
Because if I didn’t, the prophecy would wake. And too many have already died trying to bury it.
My knuckles cracked as I closed my hand around the obsidian dagger on my desk, an heirloom passed down from the first Alpha King. Its edge still remembered the blood of betrayal.
I stood in the chamber where my father’s blood had stained the stones. Where he’d whispered his final words with smoke in his lungs and madness in his eyes:
“When the Nightwind returns, the storm will follow.”
They called him paranoid. Broken.
I’ve learned better.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Enter,” I called.
Ivy stepped inside, her arms folded across her chest, golden hair twisted into a loose braid. She looked far too much like our mother when she was angry. And Ivy was angry often.
“You sent for me?” she asked.
I studied her. “You spoke to Seraphina.”
She arched her brow. “Are you spying now?”
“You’re predictable.”
She smirked, then sobered. “You should’ve told her the truth.”
“She doesn’t need the truth. She needs to leave.”
“She’s not going to,” Ivy said. “And you know it.”
My jaw tightened.
“She’s the last of the Nightwind line,” Ivy continued. “If she dies, so does the magic that binds our lands.”
“She’s also the spark that could burn us all,” I snapped. “The prophecy isn’t just a story, Ivy. I’ve seen what happens when wolves chase fate blindly.”
“And I’ve seen what happens when you run from it.”
Her words hit deeper than I let her see.
“She’s not ready,” I said after a beat. “And neither am I.”
Ivy’s eyes softened just slightly. “Then get ready.”
She turned to leave, then paused at the door. “She deserves the truth, Rael. If you keep it from her, someone else won’t.”
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me with nothing but silence, and the storm rising in my chest.
Later that night, I ran.
Not from duty, not from fear, but from the pressure that threatened to c***k me open.
My wolf needed air. Space. Distance.
I shifted just past the cliffs, where the forest thickened and the moonlight dappled through skeletal trees. The wind rushed through my fur, familiar and grounding.
Until her scent hit me.
Wildflowers and smoke.
Seraphina.
She stood near the lake, barefoot in the grass, arms wrapped around herself. The moon lit her hair silver. Her eyes found me instantly.
“You’re following me now?” she asked, voice sharp.
I shifted back into human form, not bothering to hide.
“You’re on restricted land,” I said.
Her gaze narrowed. “So are you.”
Touché.
We stood there in silence, tension coiling between us like a living thing.
Finally, she spoke. “Why did you reject me?”
Straight. Sharp. No fear.
“I had no choice,” I said.
“There’s always a choice.”
Not this time.
“You don’t know what you are,” I said, stepping closer. “What your blood carries.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then tell me.”
I hesitated. My wolf snarled at my silence.
But before I could answer, the wind shifted again.
And this time, it wasn’t her scent I caught.
It was ash.
And blood.
We weren’t alone.
I grabbed Seraphina’s wrist and yanked her behind me just as a blur of motion erupted from the treeline. Shadows. Claws. Red eyes.
Rogues.
But not just any. These wolves stank of rot and dark magic.
I shifted mid-leap, slamming into the first attacker. My teeth tore through fur and flesh. Seraphina moved beside me, unarmed, but fierce. Her hands glowed with the faint pulse of forbidden magic.
She whispered something under her breath and flames spiraled from her palm, catching one rogue mid-charge. He howled, then crumbled into ash.
Witchfire.
What the hell?
The rest scattered, but not before I caught a glimpse of their mark, branded into the side of one’s neck.
A crescent moon split by a claw.
I froze.
That mark hadn’t been seen in over two decades.
It belonged to the Bloodhowl Rebellion.
Impossible.
When the last of the rogues fell or vanished into the dark, I turned to her.
“You’re bleeding,” she said, touching a cut near my collarbone.
But I barely felt it.
“Where did you learn that spell?” I demanded.
She tensed. “I—I don’t know. It just… came.”
Shit.
My blood ran cold.
This wasn’t just fate playing games anymore.
This was a warning.
The prophecy was awakening.
And Seraphina was the key.
If I didn’t stop it, or if I didn't stop her, the world I’d fought to protect would drown in fire.
But as I looked into her eyes, defiant and afraid, something in me whispered:
Or maybe she’s the only one who can save it.
- Writer
