Chapter Six
1308 Words
“Someone help—” Malekini choked.
Smoke filled her lungs, thick and merciless.
The chapel was no longer a sanctuary. It was a furnace, a burning abyss
Flames crawled up the walls, devouring stained glass, shattering light into molten color.
“Malekini!” Kaelen’s voice thundered from the entrance.
She tried to answer.
Coughed instead.
The air burned. Her chest tightened.
Every breath felt smaller than the last.
The children were already out. She had pushed them through the side door.
But she had fallen behind.
when
The ceiling groaned.
A beam cracked.
She stumbled back, disoriented, vision blurring.
“Help…” she tried again, weaker now.
At the entrance, Kaelen stepped forward, heat slamming into him like a physical wall.
The structure was collapsing fast.
If he went in—
He could get injured.
And if he died—
The pack would lose it's prince.
He knew it.
He felt it.
His instincts screamed at him to assess, to calculate, to wait for an opening.
One second.
Two.
Inside, Malekini fell to her knees.
The smoke swallowed her vision.
Her body shook.
She couldn’t breathe.
Her lungs begged. Her heart pounded against failing air.
And in that final, desperate moment—
Her voice broke free.
“Draven!”
It tore out of her. Raw. Instinctive. Not planned.
A plea.
Outside the chapel—
Footsteps thundered across stone.
Draven had already been running.
He heard her.
Not just the sound.
But the way she said his name.
Like she believed he would come.
Like she knew he would.
His jaw tightened.
“I’m here,” he whispered, already moving faster.
Kaelen turned as Draven rushed past him.
“Don’t!” Kaelen grabbed his arm. “The roof is going to collapse!”
Draven didn’t slow.
“She’s still in there,” he said.
“She won’t survive it,” Kaelen snapped. “You won’t either.”
Draven’s eyes met his.
Not angry.
Not reckless.
Just certain.
“If she’s in there,” he said quietly, “then so am I.”
And then he stepped into the fire.
The heat swallowed him instantly.
Inside, Malekini swayed.
The world felt distant.
Dark.
Her body tipped forward—
Strong arms caught her before she hit the floor.
“I’ve got you,” Draven said, voice low against her ear.
Her lashes fluttered weakly.
“You came…” she breathed.
“I always will.”
A beam crashed behind them.
Flames surged.
Draven pulled her against his chest, shielding her body with his own as sparks rained down.
The exit was barely visible through the smoke.
His shoulder burned.
A shard of collapsing wood tore across his back.
He didn’t slow.
The pain dreadful
but the dream hopeful.
Didn’t falter.
Outside, Kaelen stood frozen as part of the roof gave way.
The heat exploded outward.
For one horrible second—
Everything disappeared in fire.
Then Draven emerged from the smoke.
Malekini limp in his arms.
His shirt burned through.
Blood streaked down his side.
He staggered once.
Dropped to one knee.
Her body frail and slightly bruised
But he didn’t let her touch the ground.
“Breathe,” he told her, voice strained.
“Malekini, breathe.”
She coughed weakly against his chest.
Alive.
Kaelen stared.
He knew that burn.
That impact.
He had seen what fell.
That beam would have crushed whoever went in.
That was why he had hesitated.
Because he had calculated the risk.
Draven hadn’t.
Draven had chosen her.
Draven swayed.
His grip tightened around her instinctively, even as his strength began to fail.
“Don’t—” Kaelen stepped forward.
Draven’s eyes lifted once more.
Not accusing.
Not triumphant.
Just exhausted.
“She called for me,” he said softly.
And then his body gave out.
He collapsed to the ground—
Still holding her.
And that was the moment everyone understood.
This was no longer about rivalry.
This was about choice.
And she had already made hers.
***
Malekini had just returned from the marketplace, baskets still full of fresh bread and herbs, when she heard the screams.
Her heart skipped.
Children’s voices.
Panicked and scared.
She raced toward the chapel, feet barely touching the cobblestones, breath sharp in the evening air.
The fire was small at first, licking the edges of the chapel roof. Smoke spiraled lazily into the sky—enough to warn, not enough to terrify.
Her courage surged. She pushed open the door and saw the children huddled near the altar, wide-eyed and terrified.
“Quick! This way!” she shouted, her voice steady despite the heat on her cheeks.
Hands grasped tiny arms, she guided them out, one by one, into the safer courtyard.
But as she turned back, she saw a small boy, hidden behind a pew.
Without hesitation, she dove, pushing him toward the exit.
The boy scrambled free, but the ceiling above groaned, and a wooden beam cracked.
Before she could react, the wood gave way, hitting the floor with a thunderous crash.
She fell backward, smoke stinging her lungs, the flames closing in.
The boy’s hand slipped from hers. Panic flared.
At the Veyra estate, alerts had already spread.
Messengers brought word of a fire and trapped children at the chapel.
Kaelen’s ears pricked at the first warning howl; instinct flared.
Draven’s jaw clenched beside him, eyes hard as stone.
“They’re in danger,” Kaelen muttered, senses heightened, the air around them thick with urgency.
Draven didn’t hesitate. “We move now,” he said, voice low, commanding.
In a heartbeat, both transformed.
Fur bristled along their spines, eyes glowing gold in the afternoon glow.
Muscles rippled beneath sleek coats.
They leapt walls, bounding over debris, landing with the grace of predators built for this moment.
Sparks clung to their fur as they ran through the ashes, smoke curling like spectral snakes around them.
Kaelen’s instincts screamed to wait, calculating every risk.
But Draven, already airborne toward the chapel, moved with fearless precision.
The chapel door burned at the edges, flames licking higher, smoke thickening into choking clouds.
Cloaked figures slipped in and out of the shadows, unseen yet felt—silent predators observing from the corners, their intentions unknown.
Inside, Malekini struggled to rise. Her lungs screamed.
The heat pressed down like a living thing.
Her hand brushed the boy’s shoulder one last time before she collapsed, unconscious, smoke curling around her like a shroud.
Draven’s roar cut through the chaos, low, warning, commanding.
He swept her into his arms, dodging collapsing beams and falling embers.
Every leap, every bound displayed wolf majesty—claws brushing stone, fur smoking with ash, eyes bright with raw determination.
Kaelen arrived moments later, bounding to the edge of the fire. He hesitated, teeth clenched, jaw tight, caught between desire and caution. His brother’s sacrifice was already unfolding.
The children were safe.
Malekini, unconscious, cradled in Draven’s arms, her breaths shallow but steady.
Ash rained down, smoke clouded the night, and the wolves’ dark fur glistened with embered streaks.
Draven stumbled, wounded, but pressed on, ignoring the pain.
Kaelen’s hesitation had kept him back—but every muscle of his body tensed, every sense alive, witnessing the ferocity of his brother’s courage.
As the smoke cleared, questions rose. Who had set the fire? and why? why harm a chapel
But the Cloaked figures vanished before anyone could reach them, leaving only the ashes and the lingering scent of malicious intent.
The chapel lay scorched, but the children were safe, Malekini was alive, and one thing was certain.
Draven’s choice had saved her, his body bruised and bleeding in the all too selfish act.
Kaelen’s eyes followed him, a mix of awe, guilt, and unspoken admiration.
Wolves had the strength to leap into danger—but even the bravest wolf had limits. But he unfortunately had his limits
- Writer
