Chapter 4 : Blood Upon The Gate
1145 Words
The night wind howled fiercer still carrying the bite of frozen earth and an ancient scent that cut straight to the marrow. Elara walked steady at Valerius’s side. His hand never loosened its hold on hers even as the ground beneath them trembled faint as if it too felt the weight of what was coming. Behind them the low rumble of hundreds of Lycans kept pace. A sound of unwavering loyalty that would never step ahead of their King. Yet there were no hoofbeats. No wolf cries chasing from Blackwood lands. Kael had fallen back. But Elara knew he had not truly left. Deep in the shadow of old growth she felt eyes still fixed on her. Not eyes that wished her harm. Only eyes that could not bear to let go even when he had been the one to cast her out.
“Are we truly safe?” she asked soft as she looked up the steep winding path toward a place spoken of only in terrified whispers.
Valerius nodded slow yet his face gave no peace. A line of tension cut deep between his brows something he had never let show before.
“To enter my ancestors land is to cross a line none may pass,” he answered low and heavy. “But someone has dared to cross it lately. Someone has found a road that should have been lost a thousand years ago.”
He did not speak the name. Yet the wind carried it as if the shadows themselves walked ahead.
As they climbed Elara saw things she had never dared to imagine even in dreams. Giant trees whose bark glowed soft beneath the moon. Silver flowers blooming bright even as winter bit deep and frost edged the path. And far ahead stone huts stood neat and strong where the Lycan people made their home. When they passed the dwellers stepped out. Not with fear or anger. Every head bowed low every hand pressed to the left of their chest as if welcoming something long lost returned at last.
“Why do they do this?” Elara breathed her throat tight at such reverence she did not deserve.
Valerius paused beside a great lone stone standing sentinel by the road. He pointed to the broken crescent moon carved deep into its face. The very mark on his ring. The very mark that now warmed faint against her shoulder.
“Because they know what you have forgotten,” he said simply and said no more.
As they walked on Elara’s mind drifted back to the small cottage where she had grown up alone. She saw her foster father’s wrinkled face always smiling gentle when she came home late. She felt his rough warm hands tucking her blanket tight on cold nights. She heard his quiet wisdom spoken whenever she felt out of place. “Trust your heart Elara. For it often knows what the mind cannot see.” The ache of loss struck sharp and sudden. But beneath it ran a colder dread as if something dark crept into every beat of her heart.
Valerius stopped short. He lifted one hand high signaling silence to all who followed.
Far above atop the rise where the black fortress pierced the night sky thin smoke curled slow from the highest tower. Not the warm gold of hearth fires. This was dark ash grey. And the wind carried its scent straight to them: burnt bone and frozen blood.
“Someone has arrived before us,” Valerius said tight veins rising faint on his neck.
They moved faster now every step sharp with caution. Far back in the thick trees a shadow shifted. It did not draw near. It did not flee. It only stood watching the fortress take shape against the dark. Kael. His golden eyes locked on the sealed gates. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles blanched as he fought every instinct to rush forward against every law he had ever sworn to keep. He had not chosen his side. He knew only one truth: if this fortress fell into wrong hands nothing would ever shield Elara from a fate worse than death.
When they reached the towering gates at last a dead silence hung over all. No guards stood at their posts. No footsteps. No voices. Only the wind tearing at the stone walls. And the great iron doors shut fast. Upon their dark surface a mark had been carved fresh with blood that still dripped slow down the metal: a perfect unbroken crescent moon.
Valerius stepped forward slow and touched it with one finger. The blood was still warm.
“He is already here,” he hissed cold fury rising through him.
Before he could strike or call out a deep calm voice rolled out from behind the iron as if the speaker stood right before them.
“Welcome Lycan King… and welcome home little Queen.”
The voice was strange yet achingly familiar as if she had heard it in nightmares she could not recall.
“You think this place still belongs to you?” it went on easy no threat yet more terrifying than any roar. “Look up.”
Elara lifted her gaze slow toward the highest tower. There heavy curtains drifted open in the night wind.
Her heart stopped.
Bound tight to the highest window post stood the one person she never thought to see in this dark foreign place. Her foster father. His old frame shook weak and frail. Yet his eyes were sharp and fixed on her. Not begging mercy. But warning her silent do not step into this trap.
“You are just a moment too late,” the voice rang out cold absolute triumph. “And now you must choose. Force your way in and watch the man who raised you breathe his last… or turn away and let what was always meant to be run its course.”
Valerius moved to strike the door down but Elara caught his arm firm. Tears spilled slow down her cold cheeks yet her gaze did not waver.
“He knows nothing of what you want from me,” Elara called out clear and steady cutting through the night. “And he is guilty of nothing that happened a thousand years ago.”
“He is guilty of raising what no human should ever have held,” the voice answered calm and certain.
Deep in the dark trees Kael’s fingers tore at bark until sap ran thick. He knew what would happen if she stepped inside. He knew what would happen if he let her go alone. But he could not move yet. Not until he knew which side he was truly meant to stand upon.
Slow and heavy the great iron gate groaned open from within.
And utter darkness waited to swallow them whole.
- Writer
