The Summoning Stone
826 Words
Three days passed since Elias’s betrayal.
He hadn’t returned. His scent had vanished from the borders. Some claimed he’d been taken by the Council, others whispered he’d gone rogue by choice. Aria said nothing. But every night, she stared at the treeline a little longer.
Waiting.
The pack moved around her with wary respect. The tide was shifting. Where once there was resistance, now there was obedience. Not from loyalty—yet—but from awe. Aria had fought back Council enforcers. Declared herself Alpha. Survived a trap.
The Flame was waking.
Kael remained near, ever her shadow. He spoke less now, but his presence steadied her like iron beneath silk.
It was Kael who brought her the message.
“They’ve answered,” he said, tossing a silver-bound scroll onto the war table.
Aria unrolled it. Black wax. Ashfang seal.
“They want a meeting,” Kael added. “Neutral ground. The old ruins.”
Aria’s jaw clenched. “Then we go.”
⸻
The ruins sat deep in the Weeping Valley, where mist choked the trees and old stones wept with dew. It was said that the first Alphas had drawn blood here to summon the spirits of war.
Now, Aria walked the same cracked path, her boots echoing in ancient silence. She wore no armor—only a deep charcoal cloak clasped at her throat, a dagger at her hip, and the confidence of a woman with nothing left to lose.
Kael walked beside her, hand resting casually near his blade.
“Do you trust them?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “But I trust what they fear.”
He smiled faintly. “That’s the difference between us. I trust nothing… except the fire I’ve seen in your eyes.”
They reached the inner sanctum—an overgrown circle of stones inscribed with runes.
The Ashfang delegation was already there.
Three figures: one tall woman with red tattoos winding down her arms, one blindfolded man, and a girl no older than fifteen with silver eyes that never blinked.
“You came,” the woman said.
“I answered,” Aria replied.
“Why now?”
Aria stepped into the center. “Because the Council is on the move. And you know as well as I do, the packs won’t survive fractured. We need to unify.”
The blindfolded man tilted his head. “Many have tried.”
“None had my blood.”
The girl with silver eyes stared harder. “Prove it.”
Aria knelt and pressed her palm to the center stone.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—the runes ignited.
Golden fire flared around her fingers, tracing her veins, pulsing up her arm. Wind screamed through the valley. The stones shivered.
Kael’s hand went to his blade—but Aria didn’t flinch.
The flame obeyed her.
The girl stepped back, whispering something to the others.
“She’s real,” the tattooed woman said.
“Then she must take the Trial.”
⸻
Later, Aria sat before a small campfire on the edge of the ruins, listening to the conditions of the trial.
“You must summon the Flame-Wolf,” the blindfolded man said. “And survive its bite.”
“Sounds charming,” Aria muttered.
Kael frowned. “That beast hasn’t been called in decades. It burns Alpha blood.”
“Exactly,” the girl with silver eyes said. “Only one with true blood can withstand it. Others… die screaming.”
Aria’s jaw set. “When?”
“Now.”
⸻
The summoning stone was a jagged altar perched atop the cliff.
Aria stood alone, the wind howling around her, frost forming in her lashes. Her heart thundered—but not with fear.
With certainty.
She drew the dagger across her palm and pressed it to the altar.
“By the blood of the last Alpha, by the fire buried in my bones, I call you,” she whispered.
The runes blazed.
And the sky cracked.
Lightning tore across the clouds. A beast leapt from the fire—wolf-shaped, wreathed in white flame, eyes like dying stars. It growled, circling her. Testing.
Then it lunged.
Its jaws closed over her shoulder.
Pain erupted—searing, holy. Aria screamed, but she didn’t fall. She locked eyes with it, even as her flesh burned.
“I am not prey,” she growled. “I am the flame reborn.”
The beast froze.
Then—released her.
It bowed.
And vanished.
⸻
Kael reached her as she staggered down the hill, smoke rising from her skin.
“You’re insane,” he breathed, catching her.
“But alive.”
She slumped into his arms, blood dripping down her side, shoulder scorched and smoking.
From the hilltop, the Ashfangs watched in stunned silence.
The tattooed woman stepped forward, hand over her heart.
“We kneel,” she said. “To the Flame-Wolf’s chosen.”
And slowly, one by one, the others followed.
- Writer
