INTO THE NORTHERN WILDS
929 Words
The farther north they traveled, the colder the air became—not just in temperature but in spirit.
The Northern Wilds were unlike any territory Aria had known. Twisted forests stood like watchful sentinels. Rivers ran dark and deep, whispered with old curses. The people here didn’t speak unless spoken to—and even then, their eyes lingered too long. Not out of curiosity.
But hunger.
Kaelen noticed it too.
“This place doesn’t welcome outsiders,” he murmured, reins tight in his hands.
“It doesn’t welcome you, either,” Aria said quietly.
He looked over at her. “That’s because I’m no longer one of them.”
The Forgotten Blood
They camped just beyond the icy valley that bordered the Silver Scar—a canyon said to mark the last stand of the rogue uprising a century ago. The fire crackled low, and the guards kept a wider perimeter than usual.
“Thorne was banished before I was born,” Kaelen said that night, staring into the flames. “But I remember my mother whispering about him. How he wanted to rule with dark rites. How he believed only the strongest deserved to live.”
Aria listened, curled beside him beneath the heavy furs. “And your father cast him out?”
“Yes. But not before blood was spilled.”
Kaelen’s jaw tensed.
“He tried to take my mother. She fought back—and she killed his mate in the process. That’s why Thorne hates our line.”
Aria placed a hand over his chest. “Then we make sure the cycle ends with us.”
The Wild’s Welcome
They crossed into the heart of the Northern Wilds the next morning.
No armies waited. No ambush.
Just silence.
Until they reached Ironhowl Keep, a fortress carved into the side of a mountain. Black stone, sharp towers, and banners that fluttered with the sigil of the Wilds: a broken crown wrapped in thorny vines.
And at its entrance, a man stood.
He looked barely older than Kaelen—broad-shouldered, golden-eyed, with a cold smile that never reached his eyes.
Alpha Thorne.
“My nephew,” he drawled, arms outstretched. “And the infamous human girl who thinks she’s a wolf.”
Kaelen dismounted first. “This isn’t a courtesy visit.”
Thorne laughed. “No, I imagine not. Come in. Let’s discuss your delusions over supper.”
The Game Begins
The halls of Ironhowl were colder than outside. Even the walls seemed to breathe unease.
Aria walked beside Kaelen, chin high. She refused to let Thorne see her fear. But she felt the eyes—every servant, every warrior sizing her up like prey.
They dined in a chamber lit with iron sconces and a single, long table. Thorne lounged like a king, wine in one hand, arrogance in the other.
“Tell me,” he said, twirling his cup. “Is this your mate, or just a soft spot you’re keeping warm?”
Kaelen didn’t flinch. “She is my bond. My equal. My Luna.”
Thorne sneered. “How noble. A human Luna. You really are trying to destroy our traditions, aren’t you?”
“No,” Kaelen said coolly. “I’m trying to save them.”
The Test of Blood
Later that night, Kaelen found himself summoned to the ritual circle below the keep.
Thorne stood waiting with three of his warriors.
“If you want the Wilds to even consider yielding to you, you’ll fight for it,” he said. “That’s how we honor leadership here. Blood answers blood.”
Kaelen didn’t hesitate. “Then let’s spill some.”
They circled, claws bared, teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
The first warrior lunged—Kaelen side-stepped, slashed clean across his ribs. The second came harder—Kaelen ducked, twisted, slammed him into the stone.
The third—the biggest—roared, tackling him to the ground. They wrestled in a blur of limbs and fangs until Kaelen found his opening—driving his claws into the side of the wolf’s neck just enough to pin him, not kill.
All three warriors yielded.
Thorne clapped, slow and mocking. “You are your father’s son after all. Pity.”
Kaelen rose, breathing hard. “No. I’m what he could never be.”
Secrets Beneath the Keep
While Kaelen fought, Aria wandered.
She had felt something in the keep—an echo of the ancient magic she’d touched during the war. It led her into the catacombs beneath the fortress.
And there, in a chamber sealed with runes, she found them:
Bones.
Dozens of them. Small. Some barely larger than a child’s.
And sigils painted in blood on the walls.
Her heart slammed in her chest.
Thorne had been practicing forbidden rites. Blood rites.
Footsteps echoed.
She turned—and saw a girl in a gray cloak.
“Run,” the girl whispered.
Aria didn’t ask questions.
She ran.
The Warning
That night, Aria told Kaelen everything.
He didn’t sleep. Neither did she.
By dawn, they stood outside Ironhowl’s gates.
Thorne approached, arms behind his back.
“Leaving so soon?”
Kaelen’s voice was ice. “We know what you’ve done. Blood rites. Child sacrifices. You don’t deserve to rule anything.”
Thorne’s smile vanished.
“You’ve made an enemy, Kaelen. And you’ll regret it.”
Aria stepped forward. “No. You’ll regret underestimating us.”
They turned and left.
The Wilds didn’t howl goodbye.
But something deeper did.
The mountain trembled.
And the war that had been sleeping?
Had now truly awoken.
- Writer
