Chapter2
1176 Words
Seris knelt in the narrow shack she had turned into a temple, her knees pressed into cold earth, her palms open and trembling. The night was quiet—too quiet.
As she prayed she heard the dust and pumping of running paws and dismissed it, maybe her wolves were running laps Outside, her wolves slept in uneasy shifts, exhausted from three weeks of constant attacks by the Stormclaw Pack.
She prayed in whispers, fervent and raw, to the Moon Goddess, creator of the Nighttorn, protector of the lost.
Their true temple had been destroyed—ripped apart by Maelor, Alpha of Stormclaw, who knew exactly what he was doing when he burned it to the ground. Faith was a weapon, and he had aimed it well.
Three weeks.
Three weeks since Alpha Aeden had been taken.
He was old. Frail. His strength had been fading even before the ambush, and Seris could feel it now through the bond—thin but unbroken, like a thread stretched to the brink of snapping. He was alive. Not killed. Not yet.
Sleep brought no rest. Only visions.
Chains. Blood. Aeden’s breath rattling as unseen hands dragged him across stone. She woke every time with her throat raw from screams she never remembered making.
She was not ready for this.
Seris had only recently assumed the role of Beta, thrust into it not by training but by grief. Two years ago, her father had died suddenly. The autopsy said stroke, clean and final, but the loss had hollowed her all the same. She had been twenty-one then. She was only twenty-three now, carrying a pack that looked to her for strength she wasn’t sure she possessed.
She lifted her head.
The moon hung low and luminous, silver light spilling through the cracked roof of the shack. As it touched her skin, warmth spread through her chest, and the present loosened its grip.
Memory claimed her.
It had been an evening of laughter and firelight—the birthday a council man’s daughter, The worst of the celebration was over, The celebration had burned itself down to embers.
What had begun as an evening of laughter, music, and firelight—celebrating the birthday of a councilman’s daughter—was finally winding down. Guests lingered in small clusters, voices low, smiles tired. The musicians packed away their instruments. One by one, pack members drifted home, leaving the estate wrapped in quiet and the soft crackle of dying flames.
Seris slipped away from the courtyard and into the backyard.
“Asphen?” she called, lifting her skirts slightly as she crossed the grass. “Asphen—oh, moon above, where did you disappear to now?”
No answer.
The land sloped gently toward the lake, its surface smooth and dark beneath the moon. Beyond it, the forest loomed—ancient, watchful. As Seris walked closer, she noticed a few pack members emerging from the trees, laughing softly among themselves.
She stopped them. “Have you seen Asphen?”
One of them grinned. “Yeah. He wandered deeper into the forest a while ago, Beta.”
She winced. Beta. “I really need to get used to that,” she muttered, then jogged on.
She found him sprawled on the grass near the water’s edge.
“Trixe,” she sighed, slowing to a stop.
She was flat on her back, arms flung wide, fast asleep. The sharp edge of irritation faded into reluctant fondness.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” she murmured.
She nudged her. Nothing. Tried again—harder. Still nothing.
Defeated, Seris lowered herself beside her.
The cool earth cradled her spine as she lay back, staring up at the moon. The night was perfect—cool, alive, humming softly with unseen creatures. Somewhere nearby, a fox rustled through the undergrowth, digging into a rabbit’s burrow.
Poor bunny, she thought distantly. But that’s the way of things.
Prey and predator. Balance. Order.
Trixie snored softly beside her.
She had never known moderation—not tonight, not ever. Earlier, she’d been a whirlwind of reckless dancing and loud laughter, until alcohol and exhaustion had finally claimed her.
Now she was still.
Moonlight caught in her pitch-black hair, silvering the edges. Her eyes—dark blue, storm-clouded with streaks of gray—were closed in sleep. Seris reached out, threading her fingers gently through her hair.
She smiled.
Then the wind shifted.
A scent brushed against her senses—wrong. Unfamiliar. It slipped past her awareness before she could grasp it, leaving unease in its wake. She frowned but lay back again, closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep.
That was when the chill struck.
The unmistakable feeling of being watched.
Her skin prickled. The fine hairs along her arms rose.
Seris froze.
Three figures stood at the edge of the yard.
They were already in wolf form—massive, unnatural shapes carved from shadow. Their eyes burned like torches, merciless and bright. Not Nighttorn. Not kin.
Predators.
Her breath caught.
Behind them, the lake rippled.
From the treeline came a howl—deep, triumphant, cruel.
Instinct slammed into her.
Seris surged to her feet and shifted, bones snapping and reforming as fear sharpened into lethal focus. She had never faced intruders before—but she had been born for this.
She threw her head back and howled.
A warning. A call. A demand for reinforcements.
Beside her, trixie jolted awake.
Her eyes were bloodshot, clouded with drink as he stared at the wolf standing over him. “Seris?” She slurred. “What’s wrong—?”
Her rigid stance, bared teeth, and low snarl made her turn.
His gaze locked onto the intruders.
“Shit.”
He shifted instantly. The change burned the alcohol from his system as fur and muscle replaced skin.
Through the pack link, Seris snapped, “Asphen—howl. There are wolves inside the party grounds. We need numbers. Now.”
He didn’t argue.
As his howl tore into the night, Seris advanced.
The intruders were already halfway toward the lake, spreading with calculated ease. She searched for their Alpha—gauging sizes, postures, dominance.
Nothing.
Then her stomach dropped.
More wolves slipped from the shadows.
They were increasing.
Heavy thuds sounded behind her.
Seris turned just as Kael burst onto the clearing, already in wolf form—broad, powerful, unmistakable. The soon-to-be Alpha was flanked by pack members, teeth bared, eyes blazing.
Relief and resolve surged through her.
We are not alone.
The intruders shifted formation, spreading into a crescent—classic, predatory, disciplined.
And then they lunged.
Seris gasped and came back to herself, the memory shattering like glass.
The shack was still. The moon still watched.
She pressed her forehead to the ground, her breath unsteady but her resolve hardening like iron beneath her ribs.
“Goddess,” she whispered, voice breaking and fierce all at once, “I am still here.”
Outside, somewhere in the dark, a wolf lifted its head and howled.
And Seris rose to answer it.
- Writer
