Chapter 6 The wolf remembers
688 Words
The wind howled through the high towers of the ancient stronghold, its voice cutting sharp across the stone. Snow drifted down in slow, swirling spirals, but inside the fortress, the halls were not silent.
Not anymore.
Alpha Vaelen stood before the fire in his private chamber, hands clenched behind his back. The flames licked at the stone hearth, casting orange light across the carved runes that lined the mantle. But warmth did not reach him.
His wolf, Orion, was restless.
For days now, the Alpha had felt it—the pulse, the ache, the gnawing weight in his chest that would not fade. It had begun as dreams. Scent without face. Touch without memory. But now, it was more than instinct.
It was demand.
> “Find her.”
Orion’s voice rumbled in his mind like distant thunder. Wild. Unrelenting.
Vaelen gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He had tried to forget. Had tried to let the island night remain buried.
But the bond would not let go.
She was real.
She was alive.
And somewhere out there, she carried something that belonged to him.
---
It was just after midnight when Vaelen returned to the guest wing of the Sacred Isle, escorted by an old servant who had not aged much since the kingdom fell. The room had been left untouched—sealed since the Gathering ended. No one had entered. Not even the stewards.
He pushed open the door.
The room still smelled of old candles and winter roses.
But more than that… it still held her scent.
He inhaled deeply.
Vanilla.
Ashwood.
Wolf.
His.
He stepped inside, crossing the room with slow, deliberate movements. The bed was still slightly rumpled, though the servants had tried to straighten it. His heart pounded harder the closer he came to the window. There, tucked into the c***k between the wall and desk—a small folded sheet of parchment.
He reached for it.
Unfolded it.
It was a pack budget report, neatly itemized, signed at the bottom in delicate handwriting:
> Araya of Silver Moon – Trade & Resource Report (Year-End)
He stared at the name.
Read it again.
Araya.
Silver Moon.
Her name lit something in him.
His wolf surged forward.
> “Ours.”
Vaelen closed his fist around the paper.
So she had a name.
And now, so did her pack.
---
By morning, three of his top scouts were summoned to the throne room. Each one elite, trained in stealth, loyalty, and silence.
He held the paper before them like a decree.
“Her name is Araya,” he said. “She’s from Silver Moon. Find her. Watch her. Report to me the moment you know where she is.”
They nodded without hesitation.
“And do not engage unless I command it,” he added darkly. “She is not to be touched. Not to be frightened.”
The oldest scout blinked. “Is she… dangerous?”
Vaelen looked out the frost-glazed window.
“She’s carrying my child.”
A silence heavier than snow followed.
Then he turned back to them, eyes glowing faint green.
“Go.”
They vanished into the storm.
---
Alone again, Vaelen walked back to his war chamber. He unrolled the map of the wolf territories, his fingers tracing the Silver Moon region. He knew of them. Fierce. Isolated. Traditional. But honorable.
He whispered her name again. Let it fill the silence.
“Araya.”
His wolf stirred with recognition.
He did not know how she would react. If she would fear him. Hate him. Or deny him.
But the bond had started something.
And he would not let the child—the heir—be raised without his name.
Not this time.
Not with everything he had lost.
---
Far away, under a sky cloaked in dusk, Araya stood by her window, hand on her belly. The baby moved again.
And in her bones, something deep and ancient whispered:
> He knows.
She didn’t know how.
She didn’t know when.
But she felt it.
The bond was awakening.
And her time of hiding… was almost over.
- Writer
