CHAPTER FIVE — THE MAN WHO WASN’T MY FATHER
883 Words
The forest was too quiet.
Not the silence of night—
but the silence before something dies.
I stepped forward, every instinct screaming at me to stop. Kaelen’s hand shot out, gripping my arm so firmly his fingers trembled.
“Aria,” he warned, “that thing is not your father.”
But the howl still echoed in my bones.
It was his voice. His spirit. His pain.
“I have to see him,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “He’s marked. I can smell it from here.”
Another howl cut through the air—this one closer, desperate, broken.
I tore my arm free.
“I don’t care.”
Kaelen swore under his breath and followed.
THE CLEARING
We stepped into a circle of dead trees. Their bark was blackened, their branches twisted like they were trying to crawl away from the center.
From him.
My father crouched in the dirt, bones jutting under his skin, eyes glowing with a sick, icy light.
He looked like a man rebuilt wrong.
“Papa?” My voice cracked.
His head snapped up.
For a moment—just a moment—his expression softened. Recognition flickered through the madness.
“Aria…” he rasped. “Little moon…”
My chest caved at the old nickname.
I took a shaky step forward.
He surged back, snarling.
The sound wasn’t human.
Kaelen moved instantly, stepping between us. “Stay behind me.”
“No,” I argued. “He’s my father.”
“He was.” Kaelen’s voice was low, hard. “Now he’s a weapon.”
My father lunged forward, stopping just inches from us—held back by nothing visible.
His feet scraped trenches in the dirt.
Like invisible chains were dragging him.
His eyes rolled, veins darkening under his skin. “Run, Aria… RUN!”
I froze.
“Papa—”
“HE’S COMING!” he bellowed.
Kaelen stiffened. “Who?”
My father’s head jerked toward the sky, like something pulled it.
“The Bloodline King,” he hissed, voice not entirely his own now.
“He knows she’s here.
He wants the child.”
The blood in my body turned to ice.
“What child?” Kaelen asked sharply.
My father stared directly at my stomach.
Even though I wasn’t pregnant.
Not visibly.
Not yet.
Kaelen followed his gaze.
His whole body went still.
“Aria,” he said carefully, “is there something you need to tell me?”
I shook my head, trembling. “I don’t—no—there’s nothing—”
My father screamed—
a raw, soul-tearing sound that didn’t belong in a human throat.
Then he lunged.
Kaelen shoved me behind him, catching the attack mid-air. The impact jolted the ground. My father clawed and thrashed, but Kaelen held him down, teeth gritted as he fought something far stronger than a broken man.
“Aria, go!” Kaelen shouted. “He’s not in control!”
“I’m not leaving him!”
“You have to! If the Bloodline King is tracking him—”
My father suddenly went still.
Not calm.
Frozen.
Like a puppet waiting for a string to be pulled.
His head lifted slowly.
Those unnatural glowing eyes locked on mine.
But it wasn’t my father looking at me anymore.
A different voice spilled from his mouth—deep, ancient, cold enough to peel skin from bone.
“Do not let him touch you, little bride.”
Kaelen’s whole body snapped taut. “Get out of her father. Now.”
The voice ignored him.
“You carry what belongs to me.”
My heart stopped.
Kaelen swore and pressed my father harder into the dirt.
The voice inside my father continued:
“Your line is bound to mine.
Your blood is owed.
Your womb is owed.”
Kaelen roared, “SILENCE!”
But the voice didn’t break.
It laughed.
My father’s body jerked violently.
His spine arched.
Then—
He collapsed.
Completely limp.
Dead weight.
Kaelen pulled back instantly, breath sharp. I crawled forward, tears choking me.
“Papa? Papa!”
I shook him. His eyes stared blankly at the sky.
No glow.
No movement.
No breath.
But then…
His mouth moved.
Barely.
Just enough to speak one last horrific message.
“He is already… inside you…”
My lungs froze.
Kaelen grabbed me, pulling me away from the body, cradling my head to his chest as if he could shield my ears from what had already been heard.
His heartbeat was wild, violent, terrified.
“Aria,” he whispered, “listen to me—”
But then—
The trees around us shook violently.
The ground shivered.
A symbol—dark, ancient, burning—appeared on my father’s chest, glowing like a brand.
Then it exploded into smoke.
A message.
A warning.
A claim.
Kaelen backed us away, his voice barely audible.
“He marked you without touching you.”
My throat tightened. “What does that mean?”
Kaelen swallowed hard.
“It means he wants you for something no wolf can survive.”
I whispered, “What does he want?”
Kaelen looked at me with pure dread.
“You.”
His hand slid down to my abdomen.
“And whatever he thinks you’re destined to carry.”
- Writer
