Chapter thirty one
The wind howled like wolves mourning the dead. We were two days into the mountain path, the snow biting through my clothes, the silence between Alaric and me thick as fog. The map he’d given me was old—hand-drawn in ink made from wolfsbane and ash—but the path it revealed was unmistakable. We were heading toward The Hollow Spine, the place where the First Alpha had died. And the place where my child’s soul, apparently, would awaken. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Not entirely. But I could feel something pulling me forward—something ancient and familiar, humming in my bones like forgotten music. “Are you going to tell me everything now?” I asked as we climbed the ridge. Alaric’s eyes stayed fixed on the path. “You wouldn’t believe it all at once.” “Try me.” A long pause. Then: “The
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