Chapter Four – Torn in Two
1097 Words
The village bells rang at dawn, pulling Aria from a restless sleep. She had tossed and turned through the night, Selene’s words echoing in her mind, her body still aching from the pull of the bond. She dragged herself out of bed, splashed cold water on her face, and tried to push it all away.
The huntresses gathered at the square, bows strapped across their backs, blades gleaming in the rising sun. Mira stood at the front, arms crossed, her sharp gaze scanning the group.
“The council wants more patrols near the northern ridge,” Mira announced. “Reports of wolves crossing closer to the fields. We move at once.”
The group dispersed, forming smaller patrols. Aria adjusted her quiver, but she felt Mira’s eyes on her, heavy and unrelenting.
“Walk with me,” Mira ordered.
They set out into the woods together, the air still cool and damp with morning fog. Birds sang overhead, but Aria felt none of the peace she usually found in the forest. Her mind was tangled, her chest tight.
“You’re worse today,” Mira finally said.
Aria bristled. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Mira’s voice was low but cutting. “Something is eating you alive, and if you don’t spit it out, it’s going to get you killed.”
Aria’s steps faltered. She wanted to tell her everything, to unburden herself. Mira was her sister in all but blood, her shadow through training and battle. But how could she confess the truth? That the enemy she was raised to destroy had claimed her heart with nothing more than a glance?
“I’m just tired,” Aria said at last. “The last hunt shook me.”
Mira studied her a long moment. “That’s not all of it.”
Aria bit the inside of her cheek and kept walking.
The patrol stretched long into the morning. They scouted the ridge, checked for fresh tracks, marked claw gouges in the trees. Every time Aria knelt to examine a print, her heart raced. Was it Selene’s? Was she watching from the shadows?
By the time they returned to the village, Aria’s nerves were frayed. She excused herself quickly, slipping away before Mira could pin her down again.
The council hall loomed near the center of the village, its wooden frame adorned with antlers and carved symbols of protection. Aria lingered outside, hearing voices raised within.
“They’re bolder now,” one councilman said. “Crossing closer each moon. The Alpha must be planning something.”
“They’ve tested our borders for too long,” another replied. “It’s time to strike, to end this once and for all.”
Aria’s chest tightened. Her fingers clenched the strap of her quiver. If they went to war, if they struck first—Selene would be at the heart of it. And Aria would be expected to lead the charge.
That night, Mira came to her cabin. She didn’t knock—she never did—just pushed the door open and leaned against the frame.
“You’re keeping something from me,” she said softly.
Aria looked up from sharpening her dagger. The blade caught the firelight, throwing a gleam across her face. “I’ve already told you—”
“Don’t.” Mira’s voice cracked. “I know you, Aria. Better than anyone. You’re slipping, and it scares me.”
Aria’s hand stilled. For a long time, silence filled the space between them. Finally, she set the dagger down.
“I met her,” Aria whispered.
Mira froze. “Who?”
“The Alpha.” The words tumbled out, rough and uneven. “I had her in my sights, Mira. I could have killed her. But I didn’t.”
Mira’s face paled. “Why?”
Aria’s chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. “Because… she’s my mate.”
The word hung heavy, suffocating the room.
Mira stared, disbelief etched into every line of her face. “That’s not possible. It’s a wolf superstition.”
“It’s real,” Aria said, voice trembling. “I feel it. Every breath, every thought—it’s her. I can’t fight it.”
Mira shook her head, backing away. “Aria, do you hear yourself? She’s the enemy. She’ll use you, break you, destroy everything we’ve bled for.”
“She hasn’t hurt me,” Aria whispered. “She could have, but she didn’t. She let me go.”
Mira’s hands clenched into fists. “You’re blinded. And if the council finds out, if anyone finds out—”
“I know,” Aria cut in. Her eyes burned. “I’ll be branded a traitor.”
Silence fell again, thick and heavy. Mira’s chest heaved as she stared at her oldest friend, her sister in arms. At last, her shoulders slumped.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” she said quietly. “But whatever this is… it will end badly. For both of us.”
Then she turned and left, the door slamming shut behind her.
Aria sat in the silence, heart pounding, tears stinging her eyes. She pressed her hand to her chest, as if she could claw the bond out and bury it. But the truth pulsed stronger than ever, unyielding and merciless.
Later that night, when the village slept, Aria slipped into the forest again. Her steps were quiet, her breath shallow, but her heart knew where it was leading her.
The trees opened into a small clearing, bathed in pale moonlight. And there she was. Selene. Waiting, as if she had known Aria would come.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Aria said, though her voice carried no strength.
Selene stepped closer, her golden eyes glowing in the dark. “And yet, here you are.”
Aria’s breath hitched.
“Your people plot war,” Selene continued, voice low. “They think they can end me. End us. But you know better.”
“I can’t betray them,” Aria whispered.
Selene’s hand brushed against hers, light as a feather. “And you can’t betray yourself either.”
The touch sent fire racing through her veins. Aria’s throat tightened. “You’re going to tear me apart.”
Selene’s gaze softened. “No. I’m going to make you whole.”
Aria’s chest ached with the weight of the truth. Torn in two, caught between duty and desire, she knew there was no escaping what had already taken root.
The bond wasn’t a chain—it was a fire. And it was only burning brighter.
- Writer
