Winter Howl

Chapter 20 – Shadows in the Snow

Morning broke with a pale sun veiled by clouds, its weak light spilling across the frost-covered fortress. The world outside looked peaceful, but inside Frostbane, unease coiled like a restless wolf. The warriors sharpened their blades in silence, glancing toward Elysia with something between awe and fear.

She felt their stares like weight on her back. Wherever she walked, whispers followed—Snowweaver, prophecy, cursed or chosen? Even those who bowed their heads in respect did so with hesitation, as though her very presence might split the earth beneath them.

Elysia kept her chin high. She wouldn’t show the doubt clawing at her ribs. Not after last night. Not after Calian’s words still burned in her chest. Together, shield Frostwood… or drown it in endless winter.

Her hands trembled as she tugged her gloves on tighter.

“Don’t listen to them.”

She turned. Calian stood in the doorway of the hall, dressed in dark furs, his broad frame filling the space like he owned every shadow. His gaze, though, was locked on her alone.

“They’ll whisper until their throats ache,” he continued, crossing the yard to her side. “But when danger comes, they’ll follow you into fire.”

“Or ice,” she muttered bitterly.

Something flickered in his expression, gone before she could name it. Instead of arguing, he offered his hand. “Walk with me.”

Reluctantly, she took it, ignoring the flutter in her chest as his warmth seeped into her skin. He led her beyond the training grounds, through the outer gates, and into the snow-laden forest. The trees loomed tall and silent, their branches heavy with white.

“Why bring me here?” she asked.

“To hear,” he said simply.

At first, she thought he meant the crunch of snow beneath their boots, the howl of a far-off wolf. But then she stilled. Beneath the forest’s quiet was something else—a murmur, low and steady, like the heartbeat of the land itself. The longer she listened, the louder it grew, until her veins thrummed in time with it.

Her breath fogged. “What is that?”

Calian watched her carefully. “The call of the Frostwood. Only Snowweavers ever heard it. That’s how I know.”

“Know what?”

“That fate isn’t lying to us.” His voice was rough with certainty. “You were meant to be here, Elysia. With me.”

The words were a knife and a balm all at once. Her pulse stumbled, her throat dry. She wanted to deny him, to push away the bond tightening between them—but before she could answer, a sharp crack split the air.

Both froze.

Branches snapped. The forest’s hush shattered as figures slipped between the trees—tall, cloaked in ash-coloured furs, their eyes glinting red. The scent of iron reached them before the wind carried the truth: blood.

“Shadowsworn,” Calian growled, shoving Elysia behind him as his claws lengthened.

The intruders fanned out, silent as ghosts, their weapons glistening black. One lifted a curved blade, voice low and cold. “Snowweaver. The Frostwood calls for you—but it will not be you who answers. Our queen demands your power.”

Elysia’s stomach knotted. They know about me.

Calian stepped forward, radiating lethal intent. “Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” the Shadowsworn replied smoothly.

The attack came swift. Steel rang out as warriors clashed in the snow. Calian was a storm, tearing through them with feral precision, but there were too many. One slipped past him, lunging for Elysia. Instinct flared—before she thought, her hands rose, and a surge of ice exploded outward, hurling the attacker against a tree. Frost swallowed his body whole.

For a heartbeat, silence. Then fear rippled across the enemy ranks.

“She is the prophecy,” one hissed.

Their leader snarled. “Then break her before she breaks us.”

But none moved fast enough. Calian’s roar shook the trees, his wolf half unleashed, eyes blazing. In a blur of claws and fury, the Shadowsworn scattered, retreating into the dark like smoke. The forest swallowed them whole, leaving only their stench behind.

Elysia stood trembling, her palms still coated with ice. She stared at the frozen corpse of the man she’d struck down, her stomach twisting. She hadn’t meant to kill him. She hadn’t even meant to try.

Calian gripped her shoulders, forcing her gaze to his. “Look at me.”

Her chest heaved. “I didn’t… I didn’t control it. I just—”

“You protected yourself,” he snapped, more fierce than gentle. “Don’t ever apologise for surviving.”

Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away. His hands softened, sliding down to steady her arms. “This is only the beginning. They’ll come again, stronger, and they’ll never stop until they take you. The prophecy has already awakened the hunt.”

Elysia swallowed hard, dread and fire warring inside her. “Then what do we do?”

Calian’s gaze darkened, his voice low with unshakable promise. “We fight fate on our own terms. And we start by making sure no one takes you from me. Ever.”

The forest quieted again, but the echo of his vow lingered like thunder in her chest.

And deep within the snow-covered woods, unseen eyes watched them retreat—eyes that gleamed with hunger, waiting for the moment prophecy would crack them both.