Chapter 5: The Floating Feather
1024 Words
The silver ash stuck to my fingers long after the feather was gone.
It didn’t burn, but it didn’t feel right either, more like a memory turned to dust, lingering on my skin.
I stood in the moonlit clearing for a long time, my heart racing and my eyes scanning the forest. The whisper echoed in my mind:
Silverclaw rises.
This wasn’t the wind, I recognized that voice. It was faint and distant, almost familiar like the one in my dreams.
I didn’t sleep that night.
When morning came, I didn’t tell Damian.
Instead, I focused harder on training.
I pushed my body until pain replaced my thoughts and I ran until my lungs burned and fought until my hands bled. But no matter how much I trained, the unease stuck with me.
It felt like something had woken up, and it was watching me.
Later that evening, Damian called a council meeting.
I sat next to him in the stone circle, this time as a human all The elders were already tense and their gazes sharp and full of warnings.
“We’ve received reports,” said Elder Garran, “a grizzled wolf missing an eye. “Another rogue pack was seen near the southern ridge and They were scouting. This is not random.”
“Organized?” Damian asked.
“They moved like soldiers,” Garran said. “They’re searching for something.”
Or someone, I thought.
Another elder, Lira silver-haired and the first to doubt me—fixed her cold stare on me. “Tell me, girl. Have you heard whispers in the dark? Seen anything that doesn’t belong?”
I paused. The feather. The voice.
I met Lira’s gaze and lied. “No.”
Lira’s nostrils flared. “Strange. The air around you carries old magic.”
“She’s Silverclaw,” Damian said firmly. “Old magic runs in her blood.”
“Magic that brings ruin,” another elder muttered.
Damian stood. “If the rogues come near our borders, we confront them with strength. Until then, we prepare. No more doubt. No more suspicion. Anabella is part of this pack.”
The word echoed.
But not everyone agreed.
I could feel it in their silence. They still feared what I might become.
And maybe they were right to.
That night, I wandered beyond the village borders. I needed fresh air and distance. My head throbbed with half-remembered dreams—flashes of moonlight and flame. I carried the warm pendant Damian gave me against my skin.
I stopped near the river, at the same flat stone where Damian had once sat, and traced the crescent on my wrist.
Then it happened again.
The whisper.
This time, it came with a vision.
The trees around me blurred. The moon above shone white-hot. Before me stood a woman cloaked in shadow and starlight.
“Anabella,” the woman said, her voice powerful and smooth. “You are not alone.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
The woman stepped closer. Her face looked familiar, Beautiful and Her eyes were the same silver as mine.
“I am the last queen of Silverclaw,” she said. “Your mother.”
My knees almost buckled.
“No… she died. The fire "
“She lived long enough to bind your magic, To hide you and To send you to safety. But now the seal is breaking. The world calls you back.”
I shook my head. “I’m not ready. I don’t know what to do.”
“You will,” the queen said. “But beware. A traitor walks among the pack. One who once knelt before Silverclaw and betrayed it.”
“Who?” I asked. “Tell me!”
But the vision faded.
The trees returned. The river rippled. The queen was gone.
I stood alone again, heart racing, the name on my tongue but never spoke.
The next morning, Damian found me sitting outside my cabin, my eyes bloodshot.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said.
“Didn’t need to.”
He crouched beside me. “Something's changed.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I think the past is coming for me.”
Damian studied me, then gently touched my wrist. The mark glowed faintly under his touch.
“You're burning hotter than before,” he said.
I nodded. “Because the fire in my blood remembers the betrayal and it’s ready to rise.”
Damian didn’t question me.
He only stood, tense, jaw clenched.
And said, “Then we prepare for war.”
The pack trained harder.
Damian increased the patrols and moved key fighters to guard the southern and eastern ridges.
Scouts reported back with tense updates about rogue movements, abandoned campsites, and strange scents on the wind.
I worked with a three-wolf patrol unit, which included two experienced enforcers: Marius, a large male with a chipped fang and a deep growl, and Kaela, who was lean with sharp eyes and carried twin blades. They didn’t talk much to me. I learned that trust was rare.
This suited me just fine.I didn’t trust anyone either.
Not anymore. Not after the queen’s warning.
A traitor walks among the pack.
This thought haunted me. I couldn’t sleep or eat. Every face seemed like a mask. Every smile felt like a threat. I watched Damian with the elders and tried to see his feelings—was it loyalty, fear, or deceit?
If someone betrayed Silverclaw once, who could say they wouldn’t do it again?
And worse, what if that betrayal was already happening?
On the fourth day of patrol, I picked up a scent.
They were on the old ashwood trail when the wind shifted, Marius stopped and Kaela crouched low.
“Rogues,” Marius growled. “Six. Maybe more.”
My heart raced. “They’re circling us.”
“Back to the high ridge,” Kaela said sharply. “Move.”
But it was too late.
The first rogue jumped from the bushes, teeth bared. Kaela met him in midair, blades flashing. Marius quickly shifted and howled as he charged at two more attackers.
I found myself surrounded.
- Writer
