Chapter 10: The hidden shadows over Drakemire
1847 Words
SEBASTIAN'S POV
The car moved quickly along the curving road to Drakemire. This region isn't too far from Blackvale. It will only take a five hour car drive. Outside the window, tall evergreen trees lined the way, looking old and endless, like they didn’t want us to keep going. The sky was heavy with clouds, ready to rain, and the pressure could almost be felt through the glass.
I hadn’t said much since we left.
My thoughts were still with Bella.
It felt wrong to leave her, even just for a few days. She was still healing—her body, her mind, her soul. And though I told myself she was safe, surrounded by Selene and my mother and every layer of security I could provide, it didn’t ease the gnawing in my chest. Some part of me felt like I’d walked away from a fire I should’ve stayed to guard.
Yes, that's how I feel every time I am far away from her.
“You’ve been quiet,” my father said beside me, his tone calm but not casual.
Our car was sandwiched between two convoys. He didn’t want to bring many guards, but I insisted. It’s always better to have countermeasures in place. Even though the two of us were powerful enough, I still didn’t let my guard down. I brought Ronan with us—my trusted right hand and one of the best wolf fighters I’ve ever had. He was the one driving.
I didn’t look at my father when I replied. “Just thinking.”
He already knew, even when I kept my thoughts muted. My father was just too sharp.
“Is it Bella?” He asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
I didn’t bother denying it. “Yeah.”
We went quiet again. The engine made a soft, steady sound, and the tires rolled over the wet road with a faint noise that felt like a warning—one we couldn’t quite explain. I've been having a bad omen on this trip.
“Stop worrying about Bella,” he said eventually. “She’ll be fine. Your mother and Selene are with her. You made the right call not bringing her along.”
I exhaled sharply through my nose. “She’s still recovering. I don’t want to drag her around until she’s ready.”
Bella is slowly returning to her old hobbies, and that’s a good sign. She’s been doing better since we got back. I just hope we can live a normal life someday—without her having to worry about anything.
“Good,” Magnus said with a curt nod. “Besides, this trip might be a bit tricky. It’s better if we keep it confidential for now.”
I narrowed my eyes at the mention of it. “What’s the council saying?”
“Elder Damaris confirmed it,” he replied. “The secret movement in the eastern part of Drakemire—near Silverclaw territory—was a sign of rebellion. There were reports of strange disappearances. Arcane energy flaring where it shouldn’t be. There’s talk of old bloodlines stirring behind it.”
I frowned deeply. “Rogues?”
“Maybe. Or something worse. The Alpha of Raventhorn sent a request for a meeting after receiving notice that we’d be coming. That’ll be our next stop after Silverclaw’s trial.”
Silverclaw—the name already made my skin itch.
“That pack has always been a problem,” I muttered.
“They’re proud,” Magnus said with a probing look. “But pride bends to power. I’m glad you came with me on this trip. It’s time they stop seeing you as just my son.”
I looked at him closely. His expression was calm and easy, but I could feel the weight in his words.
“I’m not you,” I said quietly.
I had always looked up to my father’s strength—how he ruled Eldenhart with pride and integrity. He was a good leader, always fair. He never let his judgment be clouded, not even by blood.
I could still remember, back when I was young, how they wiped out the entire Ashveil pack for their rebellion—even though they carried our bloodline. That was the pack Callum came from.
His father used to be an Alpha, but they rebelled to seize the throne. They betrayed my father—along with my father’s sister, Callum’s mother.
Callum and I weren’t just close friends. We were tied by blood.
My father glanced at me again, slower this time. “No, you’re not. You’re going to be better.”
That struck somewhere deep, sharper than I expected.
I didn’t answer at first. Just looked down at my hands. At the faint scars that traced over my knuckles—memories of battles I’d both won and lost.
My eyes went back out the window, to the looming woods and sky beyond.
“I’ll do what I have to,” I said finally.
He gave a nod that was almost an approval. “That’s all I need to hear.”
We drove in silence after that, but it wasn’t cold.
There was a rare understanding between us—spoken in glances and tone more than words. The kind that only came from war, from legacy, from bloodline.
I didn’t always agree with my father, but I respected the path he carved with his hands and teeth.
This journey wasn’t just any simple visit. It was a warning.
Silverclaw had always been a fracture point, and if what the Council feared was true— we were heading straight into the eye of it.
I just hoped we wouldn’t come out bleeding.
And more than anything, I hoped I wasn’t wrong to leave her behind.
‘Bella..Wait for me.’
*****
We arrived in Drakemire just before dawn. The sky was already dark and heavy with storm clouds, yet it still didn't rain. The air felt tense—like the whole land was holding its breath.
The gates of the council building opened slowly, grinding with the sound of iron against stone. There was no welcome, no guards calling out titles. Just silence, and the uneasy feeling of being watched from the narrow towers above.
Drakemire wasn’t meant to be welcoming. It was built for defense, built for war.
My father walked a step ahead of me, his posture strong and steady under the weight of his role. He didn’t need a crown—Magnus Whitlock had a presence that filled every room the moment he stepped in.
I followed silently, keeping pace with him.
We entered the council chamber from the southern wing. The stone walls were marked with old symbols, and they seemed to faintly glow, almost like they could sense the power in the room. The cold from the floor crept up my spine, but I pushed it aside.
Twelve thrones formed a semi-circle. At the center, Elder Damaris stood like a sentinel carved from bone and ash. She raised her hand, her voice cutting clean through the stale air.
“The High Alpha of Eldenhart, Magnus Whitlock, and his heir, Alpha Sebastian Whitlock, have arrived.”
All eyes fell on me before the words finished echoing.
Especially his—Alpha Corvin of the Silverclaw Pack sat with his back straight and his expression smug, as if the entire room were his personal stage. His silver eyes locked on mine with a spark of provocation—testing me—waiting.
I held his stare as I stepped into place behind my father, staying silent and brushing him off. He’s the last shifter here who didn’t know that provoking me wouldn’t do him any good.
“We’ve waited long enough,” Corvin said, voice sharp with faux boredom.
My father didn’t look at him. His silence had weight. And Corvin—despite his little performance—knew it.
Damaris didn’t entertain the tension. She slammed her staff down and opened the trial.
“Alpha Corvin,” she began, “you are not on trial—yet. But your recent activities have forced the Council’s hand. You will explain why your scouts have been sighted past the Ashpine border where the rogues were lurking. They're armed—marked.”
Corvin leaned forward, calm and composed. “We have been patrolling. That’s not a crime.”
“It is,” I cut in—sharp, “when your patrols wear the Shadowfall crest.”
The room stilled at my authoritative voice. My father didn’t know this—I made a separate investigation in advance and Ronan brought everything he had gathered from here.
I didn’t need to explain what the Shadowfall Rebellion meant. Every Alpha in the entire Eldenhart had lost someone to it. My family lost our entire bloodline. My grandfather died with half a dozen blades in his chest—betrayed by those he called allies.
Corvin smirked. “You’re throwing around accusations without proof. Just because a kid shows up with an old symbol doesn’t mean we’re the ones who trained them.”
“But you knew,” I said calmly. “You always do.”
He gave me a look that almost bordered on amused. “You sound pretty sure of that… pup.”
My wolf stirred at the insult. Pup? The nerve. I wanna see how long he keeps that smirk when he’s the one on the ground, howling in pain.
Magnus finally spoke, his voice hard and low. “Careful, Corvin. You’re not talking to a pup anymore.”
Corvin pulled back slightly, jaw tight. But his eyes stayed locked on mine, measuring every inch of me. This wasn’t just politics—it was two predators sizing each other up, each one waiting for the other to blink.
Damaris stepped in. “Until we get to the bottom of this, the Silverclaw Pack will be placed under strict watch. Their eastern patrols will be disarmed. Any further breach will be treated as rebellion.”
Corvin stood up sharply.
His Beta shifted behind him, clearly unhappy, but said nothing.
“You throw around the word ‘rebellion’ too easily,” Corvin snapped. “Maybe you should take a closer look at your own shadows.”
He turned to leave, but paused to glance back at me one last time.
“This new generation of Alphas— they're always so quick to destroy what they don’t understand.”
I didn’t flinch one bit. “And yet it’s always the old ones who end up getting burned.”
This time, he didn’t smirk. He just walked out.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind him.
Damaris turned to my father. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
My father didn’t respond right away.
But I already knew what was on his mind. Something about this place felt off.
“I feel it,” he said at last. “And it’s not just Corvin. Someone else is pulling the strings.”
I nodded, my thoughts already racing.
I already smell the scent of an upcoming war.
- Writer
